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Even though I didn’t trust Gray, I was far better off with him being the sole keeper of that knowledge. No one else needed to know that the devil’s eye marred my shoulder.

“Madizza?” one of the men said as he stepped up.

I didn’t recognize him from the legacies I’d spent most of my time with during classes, and a quick glance at the two girls and two boys who accompanied him confirmed that I didn’t know any of them either. The one who’d spoken glared at me, and I swallowed as I prepared for whatever argument was coming.

One of the other guys whispered, his voice low, drawn out, and mocking. “Helloooo, Willoowwww.”

“That’s me,” I said, forcing a smile even as my unease grew. They spread through the hall, surrounding me as they moved, and a chill skittered up my spine.

“Looking for your next victim?” one of the girls asked.

I turned my stare to her, my brow furrowing as I pursed my lips.

“She’s not the killer, Demi. She’s the one who should be dead. Not Shawn,” the first witch said.

“Or maybe she’s just trying to throw us off her trail,” Demi said, raising a brow as she sneered at me.

“I’m not the one doing this. Just because I’m a Madizza, that doesn’t mean I’m safe from whatever this is. I’m one of the thirteen, all the same as you,” I answered, thinking back to the bodies of the two students who had already died. I wished more than anything that there was something I could do to stop the killings, and maybe the best way for me to move forward was to refocus on finding the bones.

To stop delaying what I needed to do. Stop antagonizing the headmaster and make myself malleable.

Become whatever he wanted me to be.

“You expect us to believe you have nothing to do with it? Your blood rejuvenated the courtyard, and the first body was found there within days. You bled on the ground outside today and now Bash is dead too; his body just conveniently left there? You’re at the center of fucking everything that has gone wrong here,” she said, her voice rising as the flat of her palm struck me across the cheek.

My face turned with the force of it, and I raised a hand to touch the blood that welled at the corner of my lip.

“I’m not going to fight you,” I said, shaking my head as one of her friends raised his hands, ready to defend her.

“What are you? Afraid?” the other girl asked.

“Yes,” I said, breathing evenly. “But not of you.”

Her friend struck forward, sinking his fist into my gut and knocking the breath out of me. “Then fight, bitch.”

“You spelled witch wrong,” I argued, forcing my hands to stay still at my sides.

My magic tried to rise within me, but I rolled my neck to the side and inhaled, keeping it locked within my chest and refusing to let it crack the stones of the school with my anger.

“I am afraid of whatever is killing us. That’s why I’m not going to fight you.”

Another punch to my stomach, followed by one that struck my nose. It crunched in my face. Blood burst from it and dripped down over my lips. Pain made my head throb, but it wasnothingcompared to what I’d already endured at far more vicious hands.

“Because you’ll just kill us instead?” He sneered.

“Because I know how terrified you are,” I said, my voice more nasally than normal. My blood stained my teeth as I spoke, the metallic taste filling my mouth. “And I understand what fear can make us do.”

Someone punched me in the lower back, sending me sprawling to my hands and knees as sharp pain tore through my torso. A foot connected with my ribs, driving into me so swiftly that I sputtered, gasping for breath as I collapsed onto the floor.

Worse. I’d been through worse, I reminded myself. Pinching my eyes closed and curling up on my side, I pulled my legs against my chest to protect as many of my vital organs as I could.

One of the men reached down, grasping me by the hair.

“You should leave before he finds out what you did,” I said, shoving down bile as he glared down at me.

“Vessel loving bitch,” he snarled. “You’re so fucking loyal to him, and he follows you around like a puppy, doesn’t he? But where was he during the Reaping, Willow?”

“Are you finished?” I asked, feigning disinterest, even though the reminder was like a stab to the heart. It hurt more than any of the physical wounds they’d managed to inflict, serving as the reminder I needed.