Page 6 of Wicked Dove (Institute Thirteen #1)

FOUR

ELODIE

My heart pounds as I stare at the furious guy in front of me. I feel like I can’t breathe. He’s too close. I should push him away, tell him to back off, but all I can do is stare at him.

He’s mesmerizing.

Thinking such a description of him in my mind is like pouring a bucket of ice water over me, shaking me back into the present. Attempting to yank my hand from his grip, I fail miserably, his hold only tightening as I snarl at him.

“Remove your hand,” I say, nostrils flaring with irritation, but all he does is tighten his grip further, reminding me he’s in control. My lips part, about to give him a piece of my mind when he drops my hand as if it’s burning. My arm falls loose at my side as I watch him walk away.

He flops down on the bed, stretching his long legs out as he folds his arms behind his head and closes his eyes, acting as if I’m not even here. I hadn’t even realized he was there. I was too focused on getting out as quickly as I could.

Why doesn’t he hold that same desire?

Tilting my head at him, I fold my arms protectively over my chest. All I remember before waking up was pain, sheer agony. Did he not go through that too?

“Stop staring,” he grunts, his eyes still closed, and I narrow my gaze at him. How does he even know I’m looking in his direction? I stick my middle finger up at him for good measure, only to startle when he cocks a brow, all while his eyes remain shut.

Ass.

“Are you happy to be here?” I blurt, earning a scoff from him.

“No.”

“Then why aren’t you trying to get out?”

He shrugs, still content and relaxed on his bed. “There is no getting out.”

I huff. He’s given up. He just doesn’t want to say it. I’m not giving up.

Pursing my lips, I turn back to the glass, fist raised as I consider causing a stir again, but before my knuckles hit the clear cage, I peer back over my shoulder to find him staring at me. The challenge in his eyes is undeniable.

I lower my hand, watching as his eyelids fall closed again.

Helpless, I stare at him, searching for answers he appears to have that I haven’t yet learned.

“Where are we?”

“The Sanctum.”

My eyes widen in surprise. I wasn’t expecting him to answer me. Even so, he’s not really sharing anything I don’t already know.

“I’ve learned that part. I’m looking for a bit more depth,” I push, and a smirk touches the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t know girls had depth,” he retorts, fueling rage through my veins as I glare at him. Not that he would understand. He’s happy to provoke me with his damn eyes closed.

“I didn’t know boys had any thoughts at all, but here you are,” I snap back with a huff, and he opens one eye.

“Was that an insult?” Amusement sparkles in his emerald-green pools.

“Are you insulted?” I bite back, planting my hands on my hips.

“No.”

“Then obviously it wasn’t.”

It was. At least, it was intended to be, but it seems I’m losing my sharp tongue being trapped in here.

I can either try again or choose another tactic. His eye shuts again, filling me with frustration as the energy shifts in the air.

It’s weird. Thick and daunting, yet peaceful and calming. It’s almost as though I’m supposed to be relaxed in here while I wait for whatever comes next, but his presence taints it.

“What’s your name?” I mutter, trying to pierce the thin veil of hostility hanging in the air, but he chooses to ignore me.

That’s fine. It’s not like I’m new to being ignored.

High school wasn’t exactly great for me.

With a trailer park address and no new clothes or gadgets, I was the outcast. Everyone was too scared to hang out with me, but even more afraid of crossing me.

Turning away from him, I face the glass, confused by the rest of the room I can see on the other side.

It’s just a few storage cabinets and a door.

No natural light, no indication of an outside world existing.

It’s like we’re being imprisoned in a standard room, but we don’t have access to all of it.

It doesn’t make any sense. It’s nothing like I’ve seen before, and I can’t decide if it's worse than my floating room prison from earlier.

I try to shake it off as I fill in the blanks to my question on his behalf. “Oh, me? My name is fuck face, what’s your name? Oh, hi, fuck face, I’m—”

“I’m trying to sleep,” he snaps as I’m spun around. A second later, my back is pressed against the glass as he towers over me, toe-to-toe, with his eyes narrowed and his shoulders tight and tense.

Emotion bubbles inside me; the desire to defend myself is off the charts, but recalling the last time I tried to defend someone seeps into my mind and my confidence evaporates.

I push against his chest to no avail. He doesn’t take the hint to back off. Instead, he braces his forearms on the glass above my head, caging me in further.

“Aren’t you worried I’m going to harm you?” I rasp, aware that everyone else I’ve met since I’ve arrived has deemed me a scythe and treated me with a hint of disdain. Sure, he has the same level of distaste for my presence, but he’s not acting as though I’m as deadly as everyone has made out.

He scoffs, confusion in his gaze. “Harm me with what?”

“My knee straight to your nuts,” I snap, refusing to actively acknowledge what they all think I am right now. Not with him this close.

He grimaces, making me smile.

“That’s a low blow,” he grunts, pushing off the glass and taking a step back.

“You’re weird.” And completely unpredictable.

“Thanks,” he mutters, stalking back toward his bed.

It’s no surprise to watch him get comfortable in the exact same position as a moment ago.

I blink at the glass, waiting for a solution to come to mind, but nothing stands out, so I bite my lip and concede, shuffling back toward the bed I woke up on. We’re about fifteen feet apart, enough for me to pretend he’s not even here.

Despite the thought, I glance at him once I’m lying down, too. The silence is deafening. It’s all I’ve been greeted with since I woke and Walker was nowhere to be found.

As long as I don’t make him mad, he seems tolerable.

Taking a deep breath, I stare up at the ceiling. “Are you being tested too?”

“You’re being tested?” he clarifies, and I don’t dare look to see if he’s glancing at me or not. Instead, I stare up at the ceiling and nod. When he says nothing in response, I can’t stop myself from giving in.

His blond hair is slightly tousled from running his fingers through it, but it’s the way his eyebrows knit that makes my heart lurch.

His hair is so fair it’s almost white, yet his eyes are so troubled they look like tainted emeralds.

I’m sure he could cut me in half with his jawline alone, but the way he holds his hands, fingers slightly curled, as though he’s ready for a fight at any given moment, tells me he could snap me in half with ease, no jawline needed.

“What’s the look for?” It’s almost not surprising when he ignores me. “Hey, don’t pull that face without explaining. It’s rude,” I insist, fighting the urge to sit up. I curl my hands into the sheets beneath me as his eyebrows rise at me.

“No, you’re rude. Now shut up and let me rest,” he retorts, relaxing his features, but before he can close his eyes and ignore my presence again, I push on.

“They’re saying I have magic. I can use it on you if you keep being an ass, you know,” I threaten like a fool, immediately regretting it the moment the words leave my mouth.

It works, though. His eyes remain on mine. “They’re saying… as in, you don’t know?”

“You should be afraid,” I warn, doubling down on the fake confidence without actually answering his question.

His lips curl into a sinister smile, but he says nothing.

“Why are you here?” I purposely count to one hundred, baiting a response out of him as his gaze pierces mine, but still nothing.

“You are a handful,” I declare, waving a hand at him, and he grunts.

“And you don’t shut the fuck up.”

I lurch forward to sit on the edge of the bed, finger poised and aimed his way. “Excuse me for not being able to settle. I don’t know where the hell I am. I don’t know how much time has passed since I’ve eaten. I just want to go home to my… family.”

My chest rises as I struggle to steady my breathing. I hadn’t realized I was feeling so much. Speaking it out loud helps, but I hate that I’ve overshared with someone I don’t even know. On top of that, my heart aches with worry for Walker.

“Well, good luck with that,” he says with a sigh, tilting his face to the ceiling as he closes his eyes again.

“You sound about as ominous as the last guy I spoke to.”

“Brown jacket?” he asks, not bothering to turn back to me, but I nod all the same.

“Who is that?”

“Drew.”

“You know him?” I blurt, and he shrugs.

“He hauled my ass in, too.”

Nice ass. I immediately shut down the thought, especially since the only times I’ve caught a glimpse are when he’s threatened me and stalked off. No thanks.

“What are you here for?” I ask, suddenly realizing that there’s more to the guy before me than meets the eye. He must have some kind of magic too. But what? It’s not glaringly obvious.

“What’s your name at least?” I press, desperate for any answer, but his breaths are so steady you’d think he is asleep.

I know better, though. “If you’re not going to tell me your name or why you’re here, how about you tell me about The Sanctum.

Is that less personal for you?” I grind out, and he sighs, turning onto his side to face away from me.

Ass.

“Everyone knows about The Sanctum,” he grumbles, and I blink at his back.

“What day is it?”

A heavy sigh rings through the air. “Friday.”

“Okay, it’s been over forty-eight hours, I think.” My words linger in the air until another grunt falls from his lips, and he spins around to face me this time.

“Since you shut up?” he bites, and I frown.

“Since I learned of The Sanctum.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise and I attempt to push my luck. “Please, tell me everything.”

His jaw ticks, the desire to ignore me heavy, but to my utter disbelief, he parts his lips instead.

“The Sanctum is the governing body of our world. They stand for justice, peace, and truth. They bring justice to those who cause pain, peace to those who seek it, and truth to those who are on the brink of losing themselves.”

“That almost sounds poetic,” I breathe, and he snickers, but there’s no humor to the sound. Not even an ounce.

“It’s not. They’re brutal, ruthless, and hell bent on micromanaging everybody.” I gulp at the truth in his tone. It’s palpable. “The Sanctum headquarters are in the Gulf, but they operate all over the world, dominating The Vale.”

“Why?” I mutter, startled by the fact he’s sharing anything at all.

Another shrug. “Because they can. You can’t stand for anything other than what they believe. There’s no other rite of passage.”

I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “That sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“They’ve run things for the past two hundred years. Rebellions have risen against them, all have failed, so I can’t imagine some na?ve girl in holding bay seventeen stands a chance.”

The swipe is clear. I purse my lips, trying to stop his words from getting to me, and it works for the most part. “You’re a bundle of joy,” I say with a sigh, done with interrogating him now.

Looking to my left, as far away from him as possible, I pause when I notice a small flower carved into the wall.

“Did you do that?”

I don’t know if he can actually see what I’m referring to, but his words send a chill down my spine when he speaks. “No, that was Jenkins.”

“Who’s that?” I ask, already afraid of the answer.

“My old cellmate.”

A heavy, uneasy feeling settles in my stomach, and even as I try to brush it off with a playful laugh, it does little to lift the mood. “How did he manage to get away from all of your charm?”

Silence falls thick and fast over the room until he speaks three little words and shatters my hope.

“They killed him.”