Page 34 of Envy

Like caring too much for the girl who lied to us all. I see the way he looks at her. Helikesher. Maybe he’d sleep with her if she showed any interest.

But I know she doesn’t. She’s still conflicted about whether she should trust him. And right now, she has every right to doubt him. Rose is an addiction for someone like me—apsycho.

I want to cage her.

Dominate her fucking mind.

Terrify her.

But at the same time, I want her to desire me.

She brings out the dark, unhinged version of myself that I keep locked away—the version I reserve for others when I want to wipe them off the face of the earth.

“Today, I want to go over human rights and globalization,” Professor Mullen begins. “As you can see, I’ve brought Mr. Vikiar. He has conducted extensive research on the matter and would like to share his findings. This is an opportunity to spread awareness about the issue. He will cover human trafficking and the context of migration, labor, and exploitation.”

Panicrisesin my chest, forcing me to sit up.

Azriel’s gaze lands on mine.

There’s something in his eyes. Pity. Guilt. All I see isred. I want tostrangle the knowledge from his mouth.

“My name is Azriel Vikiar. Some of you may not know, but I’m a hybrid student. I would like to share the results of my findings with you.”

The class grows quiet. He shuts the lights. The projector flickers on. The bastard has a whole presentation prepared.

My eyes dart across the screen as he flips through images—buildings in the middle of nowhere. Then, an image stops mecold.

Young girls. Barely ten years old. They’re dirty, malnourished. Their eyes hold adrug-induced daze—similar to the way I found Rose on the shower floor.

My stomach churns.

The bruises. The scars.

Track marks etched into their delicate skin.

Needles.

Drugs.

Girls sprawled on filthy mattresses in different rooms.

“This is where human traffickers hide their victims,” Azriel says.

Gasps echo around the room. Some students watch with blank faces, unfazed.

It makes me sick.

“I know there are stories and reports of women and young boys being trafficked, but I would like to share this topic with children.”

I only pick up bits and piecesof his words. The ones that matter. The ones Alaricwantsme to hear. The ones that involve Rose. If that’s even her real name. Because she might benameless. No parents. Because these fuckers impregnate them to produce more. To sell them. Like animals.

Then I see it.

An image of a young girl withsoulless eyes?—

And atattoo of a set of numbers.

I tear my gaze away. Bilerisesin my throat, threatening to spill out of my mouth. No one knows what the numbers mean, but it’s how they mark them.

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