Before I leave the cellar,I cast a glance over my shoulder and see two eyes shining in the darkness. One of Kostya’s little jewels is awake. I change direction and stroll toward her. When I reach the bars, I press my finger to my lips. “Shh. You won’t tell, will you?”
She shakes her head rapidly, eyes wide.
“Good girl,” I purr. “Because if you breathe a word to Number Eleven, I’ll cut your face off and feed it to the dogs.”
I give the terrified woman a final warning look and head out, a lazy smile playing on my lips.
I haven’t felt this good in years. Kostya, I fucking love your pageant.
11
Lilia
Iwake up in a cold sweat, the blanket laying over me like a hot slab of lead. I throw it off and sit up, fanning yesterday’s dress against my sweaty body. Am I getting sick? I certainly had a night full of fever dreams. The confused hallucinations went on and on, sometimes fuzzy, and other times scarily vivid.
All of Kirill. Kirill in this bed, touching me. His fingers in my mouth. His mouth on my nipples. My clit. Spitting on my pussy. The slow, intense invasion of his cock.
I push my damp hair off my face. Holy shit. I’m having sex dreams about a murderous, knife-wielding madman. Being locked in a cage is sending me cuckoo.
Before I can pull myself together, a guard unlocks my cage and tells me to get ready. I stumble through the door and head straight for the bathroom, dying for a cool drink of water and to scrub myself all over.
There’s no shower, only a cold tap and buckets. I wait my turn and then strip off in the small, tiled room with three other women. There’s more space and less chaos today, and I realize with a hollow feeling that it’s because so many of us were eliminated from the competition yesterday.
I wash my body down with a sponge and scrub my thong under running water, as I’ve been doing every day. I have to put it back on soaking wet, but at least it’s clean and it’s small enough that it dries quickly.
When I turn around to leave the bathroom, wearing only my thong, I notice that Marija is staring at me, a strange expression on her face.
“What? Have I got a rash or something?” I ask, checking my body for marks. Maybe I was bitten by a spider that gives you horny dreams. That would explain a lot.
Marija presses her lips together and shakes her head, pushing past me to the taps without a word.
That was weird. I haven’t been able to figure Marija out yet. I stood up for her the day the others were angry that she’d tried to rat on us to our captors, but she hasn’t said thank you. I didn’t like what she offered, but I understand the instinct to survive at any cost. I’ve never given her any reason to dislike me, as far as I know, and yet she’s always distant. The others tell me that Konstantin seems to favor her, and she was interested in his pink diamonds on that first day.
Well, I’m not her competition. If she keeps it up, she’ll become Konstantin’s bride and bring up his children in luxury. Good luck to her.
She’ll need it.
There’s a rack of clothing outside the cells, and I select a dress without looking very hard at it. It’s turquoise and has long sleeves. I choose it mostly because I think it will be comfortable when I sleep in it tonight.
Numbers Two, Four, Eight, Thirteen, and Sixteen all sit miserably in their cells, watching the rest of us get ready. They won’t be tormented today, but they’ll have all the time in the world to wonder what terrible fate Konstantin has planned for them.
He’s tested our nerve and our integrity. Our ability to follow instructions to the letter. If I break the rules and I’m eliminated, will Elyah kill me straight away, or will he want to torture me? I gaze down at the dress I’m wearing, wondering if I’ll be alive for it to keep me warm tonight. He was furious when I left the judging room yesterday, and he spent the rest of the session sunk in furious silence, letting Kirill and Konstantin question the remaining women.
Everyone’s nerves seem frayed and brittle as the guards walk us up to the corridor and along to the judging room. Terrifying days, wretched nights, and little food all take a toll on us, and I see more than one woman trembling as we’re shepherded into the room outside the judging room door.
A few minutes later, the door opens, and Alejandra is dragged inside.
Celeste dissolves into shaking sobs. “When will this end? I feel like an animal in a slaughterhouse, counting down the moments until I’m killed.”
I grasp her hand and squeeze it. “We’re human beings, even when they force us to do things we don’t want to do. We have to remember who we are even though they call us by numbers and treat us like cattle.”
Marija is standing on Celeste’s other side. She doesn’t say anything, but she shifts on her feet and rolls her eyes.
“Have you got something to say?” I ask her.
Her lip curls. “Who put you in charge? Why are you even trying to be their favorite when they’re going to kill you anyway?”
I give a barking laugh. “Me? Trying to be their favorite? I assure you, that’s the last thing I’m doing.”