Page 24 of Broken Embers

She laughs—a short, surprised burst—and then drops into the chair across from mine.

“I was trying to figure out how to say hi without sounding insane,” she confesses, and I nod, realizing the table bump was planned. “Guess I failed.”

“Not entirely,” I mutter, grabbing a paper napkin and wiping my hands. “You got my attention.”

“I’m Valeska,” she says. “Resident inmate number two.”

“Sabrina.” I blink as her words sink in. “So there are more of us.”

“Three total. Including you,” she confirms. “Though Inmate One isn’t exactly what I’d call… friendly.”

“Yeah?” I arch a brow. “What’s their deal?”

She leans forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s a psychopath. Charismatic. Dangerous. Plays the good guy right up until he gets bored, then decides to twist the knife.”

“Sounds like a delight.”

“My older brother,” she adds with a smirk. “Most people call him Mikhail. I call him Fuckface.”

That makes me laugh. “Noted.”

She nods toward my now-empty tray. “Sorry about the fruit.”

“It’s fine.” I pause. “Well, no. It’s sticky and annoying. But honestly? You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in five days who didn’t have a clipboard or a tranquilizer gun, so I’ll allow it.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she deadpans.

We fall into a strangely comfortable silence. I study her as she pulls two chocolate bars from her hoodie pocket and hands me one. “How about I give you one of these for knocking over your fruit?”

“Shit!” I nearly rip the candy from her hand. “This makes the feeling like I’m about to attract a swarm of bees so worth it.”

Moving to another seat, I peel the candy bar and notice her weird brooch. It is a large spider with red eyes. “Cool brooch.” I nod toward it.

“Thanks.” Valeska looks at it. “It goes with the look.” She laughs.

All thought runs from my head as I sink my teeth into the delicious caramel gooey goodness of the candy bar and savor the taste of sugary sweetness. “Mmmm”

“Good?” She grins.

“Oh fuck, yeah,” I nod. “I’ve had nothing but bland food since I became an unwilling guest of the RMSAD.”

“Story of my life,” she mutters.

“How long have you been here?” I ask slowly.

Valeska looks at me. Shrugs. “In this facility, or a prisoner of the RMSAD?”

“Both?” I frown, and I start to get a funny feeling.

“How about all my life?” Valeska hisses, her eyes flashing with emotion. “In this facility? On and off, depending on what year or season it is.”

“Where are you staying?”

“In the house across the courtyard.” She inclines her head toward the house.

I stare at her. Something ice-cold unfurls in my gut.

“Youlivethere?”

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