When I try to open my mouth all that comes out is an angry roar and
whoever is pinning me down stifles it, grinding my face into the
mattress.Don’t fight them, this is just a misunderstanding, it
has to be.
“What’s going on here?” That’s
Conlan’s voice, thick with sleep, and I’m glad he’s here because
that’s what I’dlike to know. “Ben—”
“You know the rules,” Ellington says.
There’s no sympathy in his words—what happened to the guy who gave
us ten minutes in the dark last night? Where is he now?
Rough hands turn me around, someone I don’t
know, a guy my age with thick, dark hair matted into ratty curls
that frame his face. There’s a gleam in his eyes that I don’t like
and he pinches my arm where he holds me. Someone else has my
wrists, someone I can’t see, but that Ramsey guy is on Dylan,
bending his arms behind his back at awkward angles, and Maclin’s
hand fists in those long bangs I love. “Let him go,” I growl,