Page 66 of This Coven Won't Break
What if someone told the Hunters we were recruiting David? What if the Hunters knew we were coming to raid their facility? Once the thoughts lodge in my brain, a list of suspects comes racing through.
Maybe Veronica, Cal, and I were right before. Maybe David helped the Hunters create the drug, then thought better of it and tried to change his allegiances. Except... he didn’t know anything about the raid, which means it was probably someone else. Someone who tipped off the Hunters and got David killed, so he couldn’t create the potion to destroy them.
What if it’s Lexie and Coral? They weren’t thrilled that I let Alice escape, and Veronica did call them long before they were recruited. Plus, Lexie made those charms that could detect other Clan Witches. That could explain how the Hunters knew where to find us.
Or maybe it’s Tori. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Lexie or Coral, so I don’t know where Tori is or what happened to her. She was the one who wanted to bind Alice’s magic. Maybe she helped the Hunters make the drug as a way to get back at the Blood Witches and didn’t realize the Hunters would target all three Clans.
But how would the Casters have known about the Council’s other plans for Dr. O’Connell’s research?
Then it hits me.Alice.
Alice, who acted like she didn’t want any part of this. Alice, who was furious at me for inviting the Casters to Salem without warning. Who was furious that I dropped out of the raid. She threatened to back out unless I helped, and then less than a day later, Benton was out of jail.
I must finally fall asleep, because the next thing I remember is waking up to the sound of metal scraping against the stone floor. I scramble to my feet, disoriented and sore from sleeping on the ground.
Benton stands on the other side of the cell. A deep purple bruise blooms across his right jaw, and dark crescents sit under his eyes like he slept worse than I did. There’s a tray of food on the floor of the cell where he must have pushed it through, and he holds a cloth bag in his hands.
He glances from me to Archer, who is awake but still leaning against the wall, and then shoves the cloth bag through the bars, tossing it in my direction. “There are clothes and soap and toothbrushes in there. You should eat the food before it goes cold.”
I glance behind me at the door to the little bathroom, the one piece of dignity this awful cell provides. “I bet you love this.” I grab the tray and take it to Archer. I won’t eat until Benton’sgone, even though my stomach is begging for food. “I bet you dreamed of this while you were in jail.”
“My parents are gone for the day,” he says, ignoring my accusations. “You should rest while you can.”
“Why? So we can befreshfor their experiments? Do they have more fun torturing us if we can stay conscious?” My words are bitter and angry, but Benton won’t even meet my gaze. He stares at the floor, his fingers pressed against the metal bars, and I can’t help but remember the way he asked his father to stop. His father’s wrath so swift and vicious that it knocked Benton to his knees.
I don’t understand how he can win, how he can see us locked in a cell, and still look so miserable.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he murmurs to himself, but the empty hallway echoes his words back to me.
“Why?” I try and fail to inject the same level of acid as I did into my earlier words. “Upset your parents get to kill me instead of you?” My voice trembles as the reality of it crashes in. They’re really going to kill us, once they’ve used us for all we have.
Finally, Benton glances up to meet my eye. He stares at me like he’s trying to peer into my soul, and when he finally turns around to leave, he looks impossibly sad and alone.
Benton’s expression haunts me the rest of the day.
At least, I think it’s been a day. It’s impossible to tell without the sun or clocks to mark the time. My empty stomach grumbles, but then even hunger gets tired of spending time with me and abandons me to my thoughts. Archer, who is in even more pain than yesterday, tries to coach my magic into existence. Westrategize how to escape. He tells me how to hold on to my sense of self, but Benton’s expression lingers in my mind. He should be happy that I’m caught, that I’m going to die, and yet...
And yet.
Every time I hear a door close out of sight, I expect the Hunters to come back. I expect to see Benton’s father with his cold eyes and shiny silver lighter. I expect someone to draw our blood to begin their tests, but it’s like something else has captured their attention. No one comes for us. Not until the tide of hunger has come in and out at least three times.
Then finallyheis here again.
Benton is back with another tray of food. His face is different now, a mask composed of plaster and ice. Emotionless. He slides the food through the space at the bottom of the cell and leaves without a word. I help Archer eat—he can’t bear to use his hands—and after I’ve finished what’s left of our food, I curl into a corner and reach for my magic again and again until my entire body aches and unconsciousness consumes me.
Metal crashes against metal, and the sound jolts me out of uneasy sleep. I flinch away from the sound, slamming my elbow against the wall.
“Now, what do we have here?” A familiar voice asks, but I can’t place it right away.
I force myself to sit up, squinting until I can make out the shapes in the light. My heart stops.
Riley.
Morgan’s ex holds a crowbar in one hand, and he hits it against the cell bars again. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” He sneers at me, and I notice the bruising around his eye. His jaw. He carries himself gingerly, like there are injuries I can’t see.
The coven didn’t do that to him. Did the Hunters?
“How are you here?” I rise to my feet, legs stiff to the point of pain. “You were locked up. You were behind the barrier.”
