Page 138 of Cold-Blooded Creatures

She fiddled with the glass of water Ryder had poured for her.

“If it’s hard to talk in front of everyone, we can go someplace else.” Kali reached above the table and placed her hand over Malaya’s. “You don’t have to talk to us. Or me. It can be anyone you’d like.”

“It’s…okay.” Malaya hugged the glass. “The Matchings. It’s what I’m used to calling them. But I can say auctions if you wish. I don’t really care.”

“Whatever works for you. We just don’t use their chosen name because you don’t have a choice, so it’s not actually a match,” Ryder explained. “But can you tell us more about it? How it goes?”

She shifted in her seat. “You don’t know?”

“We do.” Leaning back in his seat, Ezra rested his ankle on his knee. “We’re asking because you’re seventeen, and from what we know, you go through the auctions at sixteen. You went through it most recently out of everyone, so you have the latestnews. We need to know if they have changed anything since the last one.”

“Uh, okay.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Where should I begin?”

“How about before the auction?” Kali asked. “What did they tell you about it?”

“They didn’t share much with us except that after graduation, we’d go live with our Match who’d take care of us while we, well”—Malaya’s gaze plummeted to the floor—“you know.”

Sixteen fucking years old was the age when they were thrown into the auction. It was easier to mold the young, coerce them into believing this was right. Exactly like we did with our own, only we sculpted their minds into different, more bloodthirsty than society-serving shapes.

And to think Kali would have gone through the same ordeal if not for her traitorous action that later morphed into a torturous nightmare haunting her.

Two ruthless decisions tormented our trio: a funeral blaze and a betrayal of your own kind. Such a bright world, as Ryder liked to call it. The irony was not lost on me.

“The auction day.” I encouraged Malaya to go on as gently as I could. Sometimes, memories could hurt you more than the experience itself. “What do you remember?”

She pulled on the loose thread of her sweater’s sleeve. “I was with my class. Our teachers led us through an underground tunnel for a long time and then we climbed into a building. I don’t know where. They took us to a big room where a bunch of green-banded boys and a few men were standing around tables with food. They told us to walk around and talk with them. Some asked for my name. I remember my teacher taking the ones who did aside. I was told to sit in the corner until they came back.

“While I waited, nobody talked to me. They…avoided me. Sometime later, an older boy returned. He said I was hisMatch. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know his name.” Malaya wrapped the cream-colored thread around her finger and snapped it. “My teacher brought us to a different room where they did something to my wristband. She said it was so if I got lost, I could find my way to my new home. The boy asked her a few questions and then walked me to the street where a car awaited us. Uh, that’s it.” She shrugged.

They had loaded her partner’s information on her wristband, so that if she tried to run away, they could return her to him. An identification tag for his property.

“You truly don’t have a choice,” Kali whispered, utterly blanched. “I thought I knew what Alora went through. I did, but I also didn’t.” She raked her nails over her tattoo, where her wristband used to hang, and irritated skin shone between the gaps of ink. “I was supposed to go through it, not her.”

“What do you mean?” Ezra frowned. “You wore black. Black bands don’t go through auctions.”

I cupped her cheek. “You do not have to answer him.” He had no right to know her story.

“It’s okay.” Kali gave me a sad, fleeting smile, and cleared her throat. “It’s a long story, but during fertility testing at school, I got marked as black instead of green. They never figured it out.”

“You found a way to go around the system?” Shock lured Sadira’s feet off the table, and she sat up straighter, listening intently.

“Not me. My friend. She had a plan to get the black band, but I made sure it was me who got it, not her.”

“Shit,” Eli cursed. “That’s cold.”

“What is wrong with you?” Eislyn snapped at him. “You grew up here and have no clue what it's like in the city. You can’t begin to imagine how it feels to be born for one purpose, raised only to become breeding cattle. That’s the reality.” She rose, gesturing toward Kali. “She saw a chance to have a half-decentlife and took it. You don’t have friends, actual friends, there. That concept exists only here. There, you do what you have to do to survive.” Eislyn swiped her chocolate bangs away from her forehead, slapped Eli on the back of his head, eliciting a wince from him, and stormed out of the room, muttering to herself, “Idiot.”

If I could give her a promotion for the monologue, I would. Another one for the hit too.

“I’ll check up on her,” Sadira assured, slamming the door. A loud bang echoed in our dining room.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Eli rubbed the back of his head. “I meant that you have the guts to do what’s needed without second guessing. That’s having cold blood. Not that what you did was bad. You did what you had to. I was just surprised. Usually, it takes time for people to adjust to violence, because not everyone is born ready for it,” he rambled. “And you?—”

“I’m going to pretend this was a compliment,” Kali cut off his tirade. “But do me a favor. Don’t sit here.” She pointed to the exit. “Go after her.”

“Got it.” He scurried out, a tentative smile flashed in Kali’s direction for giving him an excuse.

I had never seen the man so spooked. Eislyn had gotten to him. I should give her a raise for it. Or a bonus. Additional days off.