Page 37 of Wrath

“I had to make a choice,” she almost whispers, “and I chose wrong.”

“You chose your husband?” She avoids my eyes as shame washes over her expression. “My mother did the same,” I say with a shrug. “I wish they’d sent me to a new family.”

“You do?”

I nod. “Everyone deserves a chance at being happy.”

“I used to think if I ever got out of here, I could try to find her.”

“It’s the first thing we’ll do when we get out,” I tell her, squeezing her hand.

I take the trolley and go through to the warriors’ rooms. I can’t shake the pain in my chest, and the thought of seeing Wrath again makes me feel sick. I go to Abe, smiling as I place his tray down. “Morning, Abe.”

“You really don’t like my name, do you?” I see the hint of a smirk.

“Should I call you Michael?”

He glances at the door nervously. “What is wrong with you?”

I shrug. “I don’t have anything to lose anymore, Abe. I guess I’m in self-destruct mode.”

“I’d appreciate you imploding alone and not taking me with you.”

“How does it feel?” I ask, pouring him a cup of water. “The ceremonies?”

He frowns. “Why are you asking?”

“I just want to know. I’m curious.”

“It’s like a relief,” he tells me, biting into his toast. “They build me up, so when I finally get there, it’s a relief.”

“I wish we could talk longer,” I say as I back out the room. “I like our chats.”

He grins. “I hate them.”

“Liar,” I sing-song as I leave. I can feel him warming to me, and as I enter Max’s room, I’m smiling while thinking about how different things would be if we all got out.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” I ask as I hand him his tray.

Max narrows his dark eyes. “Huh?”

“You must dream of getting out. Wrath does.”

“Wrath?”

“You might know him as Ares,” I say, watching his face closely for a sign of recognition.

He bites into his toast, his eyes still dark and angry-looking. “I know him as Wrath. Don’t use his real name again.” He sighs before adding, “There’s no way out.”

“Do you remember how things were before you came here?”

“We’re not allowed to remember,” he snaps. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“You can remember,” I tell him, pouring his water. “They can’t stop your thoughts.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve spent years trying to get to this point, and you’re not ruining that and having me back in fight club.”

“What’s that?”

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