Page 22 of Breaking Ophelia
The Board rises in unison, a wall of black robes and unsmiling faces. Abelard gestures to the door. “Dismissed. Mr. Montgomery will brief you further on your duties.”
We exit in silence. The corridor is empty, save for the echo of our steps. I keep my chin high, refusing to show how rattled I am.
Caius waits until we’re halfway down the hall before speaking.
“You didn’t cry,” he says. It’s not a compliment, but the shadow of a laugh.
“Why the fuck would I cry?”
He shrugs. “Go to your classes. Figure it out, I’ll be watching you. And next time I need you, don’t hesitate tocome.You don’t want to displease me, do you?”
I don’t answer. The ache between my legs hasn’t faded, and every step is a reminder of how he touched me. I want to hate him, to spit in his face and tell him he’s nothing, but all I can do is keep walking.
At the stairwell, he stops. He looks at me for a long moment, the smile gone, replaced by something older and harder.
“They want you broken,” he says, voice low. “But I’m the only one who gets to watch you shatter and lick up the wreckage. Keep that in mind, little vixen.”
He turns and walks away before pausing and calling back. “Tomorrow they will summon you again. They’re testing your compliance. Attend your classes and be punctual. Tomorrow will change everything for you.”
I stand there, fists curled, letting the heat bleed off my face.
The summons comes again. No envelope this time, just a student—older, square-jawed, eyes like a dead fish—waiting at my classroom door. He says nothing, just gestures, and I follow him down the hall. I wonder if the rest of the class is watching, if they know what it means to be pulled from a lesson by an escort instead of a bell.
Probably. This place is built on rituals, and shame is the only one open to outsiders.
He leads me to a side entrance this time, into a corridor I’ve never seen before. It’s colder here, the air less filtered, and the walls sweat moisture in thin lines that remind me of veins. We go down two flights of stairs, then into a room at the farthest end. He leaves me at the door. When it closes, I am alone with two pairs of eyes pinning me in place.
“Sit,” says Abelard.
I do.
Ms. Valence smiles, but it’s worse than a scowl. “You are punctual again, Ophelia. Good. We admire personal development.”
The words hang, and I can’t tell if I’m supposed to thank her or apologize. I do neither.
He steeples his hands. “Ms. Morrow. Do you understand why you are here?”
“I dunno, you called me here yesterday. Seems redundant to split this into two meetings, but here we are.”
Ms. Valence’s tongue flashes, wet and quick, at the corner of her mouth. “Direct. We appreciate that, too. But the truth is more complicated.”
“You are not here merely as a debt payment. You are here because the Academy demands continuity. Tradition.”
My pulse thrums at my neck. I keep my chin high. “I don’t know what that means.”
Ms. Valence leans in, elbows to the table, her jaw sharp enough to slice through meat. “The Board has been disappointed in the recent Night Hunt outcomes. Too much deviation. Too littlediscipline. Last cycle, the men took the games off campus. They say the bloodlines are thinning. Do you know what that means?”
I feel my shoulders tense. “That you need more kids to keep the old names alive.”
She laughs, but it’s hollow. “Precisely. The Night Hunt has rules for a reason. To prevent the breakdown of control. Pineridge cannot happen again. All that wasted time and money.”
I search her face for some clue, but all I see is satisfaction at my confusion. “What did happen at Pineridge?”
Valence’s fingers dance on the table’s edge. “That is not your business, little girl.”
Dr. Abelard’s eyes catch the light. “You are here because you have no one to run to. Because your father signed your name away in exchange for another shot at his own survival.”
The words should hurt, but I already knew them. The only thing that stings is how little I matter in the equation. “So I’m a breeder. Is that it?”
