Sixteen

Hayleigh’s entire body was shaking so bad she could hardly walk straight on the way back to the dorm.

With clammy hands she fumbled for her keys and began trudging up the stairs. Every step felt heavier, a second closer to almost hurling everything she ate. She was sick to the core, angry and disgusted at Rowen. At herself.

What had she been thinking, agreeing to Keiran so easily like that? She would rather die than join the game again—as Keiran’s goddamn pet of all people—and yet the look on Rowen’s face at that moment had been worth it. Almost.

Vengeance was not her thing. She coped by forgetting, and for weeks she’d been in a better place. She’d been so close to moving on, but now Keiran had successfully planted the seed of discord in her mind. She was not stupid not to know what he would gain from it, and yet she’d recklessly agreed.

No. She had not made a promise. Nothing bound her from fulfilling her words, except...