"First of all, you have got to stop calling me little lamb."

It's probably not the smartest thing to say to a girl with murder in her eyes and a knife in her hand. Fortunately━or unfortunately, I suppose━I wouldn't say that smart is an attribute of mine.

She takes a step closer. The knife glints.

"You humiliated me, you humiliated my boyfriend, and I know you're a spy," Emilie says.

Think fast. Think fast. All I have in my hand is a flashlight.

I really wish I had my weapons. A gun. A knife. But they stripped me of those after I tried to escape, and now I'm empty-handed against someone with a murderous look in her eyes.

This floor is a maze. I have no idea how to get out of here.

It still doesn't stop me from saying, "I humiliated you? You do that without my help."

Her lips twist into a snarl. Emilie is pretty━that blonde hair, a waterfall of ringlets down her back. The bright blue eyes, lined in dark ink. But now, as she lunges toward me, all I can think is, This is Hunter's type?

I sidestep easily. At least my fighting skills are still strong, and I'm in the mood for a fight.

You know what? Fuck this. I'm not running. I'm not going to get lost in this little labyrinth of marble corridors and little statues.

I just found out my mom has been lying to me for my whole life. My entire life━based on deception. Based on half-truths. Based on someone who was trying to protect me.

I don't need to be protected. Not by Hunter. Not by my mom. Not by anyone.

With a casual flick, I disarm Emilie of her knife. The silver skitters across the floor, and her eyes dart toward it, giving me an opening. I sidestep over her and swing my fist towards her jaw.

The punch that cracks her head back fills me with something a little like satisfaction.

This━this is what I am craving.

A fight.

You chose the wrong day to corner me.

Emilie dives towards her knife, and I tackle her. Her arm wraps around my back, and we roll until she hits the wall.

"You'll pay for this," she growls.

"You know, that goth-eyeliner look went out of style in 2012," I say. Really, I think it's thoughtful. But it only seems to enrage her. No idea why.

Her hands wrap around my throat.

Oh, the strangling route?

Baby, I invented this one.

I knock her forehead against mine, savouring the sharp bliss of pain. Her eyes roll back momentarily, and I use the opportunity to slam her head into the wall.

Dazed, her fingers desperately pry at me. Scratching at my neck. Reaching further behind me.

I don't see what she's doing until too late. Her hand latches onto the knife.

Trust me━I don't give her the chance to stab me. I promise, I'm a little bit smarter than that.

It takes one swift knock of my arm to send the knife sliding for the second time.

Her blue eyes meet mine. There is hot, blazing fury in them. The blue heat of the hottest fire.

Then I slam her head into the wall again, and she slumps to the ground. Unconscious.

Well, not that I'd mind if she was dead.

Jude! my inner conscience scolds. Whatever. I guess unconscious works just fine, all things considered. Murder isn't really a great skill on my resume.

Yeah, better not make it a list.

I can't help thinking of the blood on the gold candelabra, and the girl's accusing stare. You killed him! You killed him!

No, I better not add any more murder to my conscience.

I slowly get to my feet, pocketing the knife Emilie lost. I put my mother's flashlight back on the dais, and I take one last look back at Emilie's slumped form before I head to the elevator.

"Fuck me," I say, as soon as the door opens.

I know what you're thinking. I told myself I would end it.

But in this moment, I don't give a damn.

Hunter's eyes widen briefly, that swirling brown darkening with desire. She doesn't protest, she only closes━and locks━the door behind me.

"Fuck me until I can't remember my name," I whisper into her ear.

A challenging grin appears on her lips, and I have to restrain myself from ripping off her clothes. Soon, her leather jacket and bra and underwear are puddled on the floor, and I'm bared of everything, spread before her.

We don't make it to the bed. She pushes me against the wall, hard enough that the desk next to us rattles.

The faded, sunset colour of orange makes me smile━right before she trails her mouth over my breasts. And then I stop smiling, and I start moaning.

The sex is rough. Frenzied. I sling one leg over hip, and her fingers fill me, hot and fast, until I am rocking against her desperately. I meet her thrust for thrust, and her little moans are enough to send me spiralling hard enough that I grip the edge of the desk with white knuckles.

"Yes, Hunter," I cry out. When her lips swirl over my nipples, hardening them, I rake my fingers down her back. I want to bruise her. I want that bitch, Emilie, to know Hunter is mine. In the moment━brimming with heat and sex and desire━I lose control. Hunter's hands cup the swell of my breasts, her fingers touching the plushness of my skin, and when she puts her mouth on me, I let out a guttural sound.

"Tell me how you like it, Jude," she says, her lips wet with my juices.

"Just like that," I say, my hips writhing against her. Seeking release.

And she gives it to me. Just like that.

When I come, it is hard enough that my head rolls back. My eyes squeeze shut, and all I can do is ride out the pleasure as Hunter's tongue forces wave after wave of bliss out of me. Coaxing a climax out of the deepest, most sensitive parts of me.

Violently, I shudder. And when she is done, I collapse into her arms.

Emilie tried to kill me.

I bury my face in her neck. She smells like pine and evergreen. She smells like freedom and power.

I have to catch a murderer, or your sister will slit my throat.

But when I kiss her, I forget everything. Even my name.

And it's exactly what I wanted. Except it's everything I shouldn't have.

This is wrong, but when she lets out a sigh into my mouth, when she brushes a tendril of hair behind my ear, I can't help but wonder, Then why does it feel so right?

Here's my plan.

First, I follow Tommy when he's on guard duty. I blow something up as a distraction, and then I get the hell out of the Underground.

Next. I go to the Crescent Sorority House, and I find Sylvie. I ask her what the hell is going on. Because if anyone knows something is up, it will be her.

Lastly, I find the killer. And I kick his ass.

Then I bring him back to Anise.

And when she gives me permission to unleash revenge, the Saints will pay.

Of course, none of this involves Hunter━or a real plan. I don't know how I'm going to find the murderer, and I don't know how I'm going to bring him back.

How do I say goodbye to Mikayla and Gianina and Tommy and Cade? How do I tell them where I'm going?

Simple answer. As much as I want to, I won't.

Which leaves me with one problem. And I think you can guess.

Hunter━who I don't know how I'll get away from.

And the reason? I don't think I want to.

But━shit. I have to. None of this is real. None of this can be home.

So when I stagger through the door into my room, exhausted from the fight, and I see Hunter, who is looking at the photograph of the two familiar little girls, all I can do is say, "Hey."

Her eyes widen when she sees me, and in my next step, I buckle to my knees. Hunter is instantly there, holding me up.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing much," I say. "I just gave Emilie a minor concussion after she tried to stab me. How about you?"

Hunter's brown eyes darken. Something is distinctly off about the colour, but I don't have time to place it. She snarls, "You gave Emilie a concussion?"

"Emilie tried to stab me and that's what you're worried about?" I snap.

"Where is she?"

I refuse to let the shame crawl up my cheeks. What am I supposed to be ashamed of, anyway? That I defended myself? What happened to You're a fighter, Jude?

"I left her downstairs," I say, my chin raised. "On the fiftieth floor. Where she attacked me."

Hunter backs away from me, towards the door. I think she'll say something, like maybe, Are you okay, Jude? Are you feeling alright after some maniac tried to stab you? Do you need anything after that traumatic incident?

You know, anything. Anything to tell me she cares in any way.

"I have to go," Hunter says curtly, and something inside of me squeezes.

I almost don't recognize it. Disappointment.

I take an involuntary step towards her. But she slams the door, and I'm alone in the room. Breathing hard. Heart racing. I shouldn't care.

I shouldn't care, but I do.

I sit down onto desk chair, picking up the photograph Hunter left laying flat. A pastel-orange frame. My favourite colour. Inside, two little girls outside in a shabby backyard, playing on a rusted swingset.

Should I know them from somewhere? The picture, strangely enough, is black and white. Which doesn't make sense, considering we're not that old. But I can't see the colour of their eyes or hair or skin, and it feels like I'm missing something important.

I let the picture fall to the desk again with a thud. What did I expect? Did I think she would kiss me better?

You're so stupid, Jude, I think, and rage pricks in my eyes. Frustration. I'm crying, and I hear my mother's voice spit, Weak.

Even after everything, she is judging me.

I hate you, I think. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

But maybe it's not her I hate, despite all the lies. Maybe it's myself, for thinking that Hunter was different. For believing something stupid.

I had originally planned on escaping in one week━Friday, seven days from today━but why not now?

I don't have much to pack, but hurt stings inside of me like a salted wound. I was attacked on the last level of the Underground by a raging bitch, and Hunter had the nerve to ask me where she was.

Tommy's voice rings in my ears. Emilie and Hunter used to date . . .

Fine, I think bitterly. Maybe Hunter isn't over her. Maybe that's all I was━someone to fuck. A rebound. I don't care.

It's not hard to see that I'm jealous. But even admitting it to myself makes me mad.

Maybe I'll leave tonight. But first, I want to fuck something up.

And I know exactly where to start.

There's nothing that I own. A few pairs of basic clothing that I stuff into my satchel, a toothbrush, and some school notes. I sling it over my back, and I leave the room without looking back.

If all goes according to my plan, I won't be returning tonight.

I know━a little early to go through with a plan that isn't exactly well thought out. But if I stay here a moment longer, if I have to look at Hunter again, knowing that she defended Emilie over me . . . so maybe it's irrational. I don't care. Maybe it makes me a coward. I don't care.

On the ride up to the 29th floor, my jaw clenches. Anticipation. Flooding me━a grim expectation of what I'm about to do.

If they want a fight, they can have a fight.

Four against one? Anyone see the injustice in that? It's pathetic, and if my mom taught me one thing, it's that I have the ability to stand up for myself.

The doors open, revealing the crowded bar, a maze of bright blue, pulsing lights. It takes me a few seconds before I see who it is I'm looking for, but when I do, my fingers tighten into fists.

I might have an anger problem. But really, I'd like to call this one self-defense.

And if you're wondering, no, I don't regret doing it.

I tap on the shoulder of Reid━the tall, lean, muscular man who first kissed me, who was one of the four━and I savor it as he glances at me. Shocked. Surprised.

And maybe even a little scared. As though he knows what I'm going to do right before I strike.

Good.

I grin, and his eyes widen just in time to capture this memory that I am sure he will one day treasure.

The crowd cheers, and with a punch that would make my mother━a blackbelt in karate━proud, my fist connects with his eye.

>>>

Probably an unexpected little scene, but I had fun. I am so excited to write the next chapter.

From the moon and back,
Sarai