Sorry about the skipped week. I was traveling and dealing with major phone drama.

Thank you to Mel!

TEN

Bella

"I am not interested in picking up crumbs of compassion thrown from the table of someone who considers himself my master. I want the full menu of rights."

— Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Edward looked lost as I stared up at him. He was not someone that struck me as the type to be unsure of himself, but at that moment, I could see it clearly across his face. He was just a lost boy, like the rest of the teens around the academy.

It was surprising to see such vulnerability on his face, and for a moment, I wasn't sure what to do.

Then he rolled his head on his neck, and a curtain came down, hardening his eyes to jade chips.

"How much do you know about what's going on at this school?"

His question threw me for a loop.

"Enough," I said slowly, unsure if I should divulge what I did and didn't know. The truth was, while I could see that this school housed offspring from some of the most elite families, probably in the Western world, I didn't know much. It felt dangerous to admit it though.

Edward sighed like I was annoying him.

"Have you ever heard of the Sixteen?"

When I continued to stare at him blankly, he scowled.

"There are sixteen families who rule the world," he started.

I choked on a laugh and his eyes narrowed.

"Come on, no one rules the world," I argued. When he didn't smile or show any hint that he was lying, I swallowed hard, my pulse picking up.

"This school is for us, the children of these families," he said, pushing past my comment. "About seventeen years ago, there was a rift that came between the families. They split evenly, eight and eight against one another." His mouth snapped shut, and I watched the corner of his jaw flutter as he ground his teeth. "I want to know why."

"Why what?" I asked, wanting clarification. His jaw clicked, like he was grinding his teeth.

"Why the rift," he clarified through clenched teeth.

I frowned. "Can't you just ask your parents since they are part of this elite club?" I asked, skeptical.

He let out a breath. "Asking these sorts of questions would get me killed, or worse."

I stared at him. "What is worse than being killed?"

He didn't answer, but there were ghosts in his eyes that told me he had a long list of things he feared more than death. I swallowed again.

"So, you want me to put my own life on the line?" I asked, wishing I'd asked for more than one hundred dollars a day.

He blinked and his gaze focused on me. "No one would think much about why you wanted answers. You're fresh here. It's natural you're curious, and you don't have any power, which means even if you found anything, it would stay buried."

My mouth went dry. "You're talking about me like I'm less than human," I snipped.

"You're less than the Sixteen," he replied flatly. "It's the same thing."

I wanted to slap him. "You are not better than me," I said through clenched teeth. "None of you are. You're all sociopaths with too much money."

He didn't look offended by my assessment, merely shrugged. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Regardless, right now, you are the only person in this whole school who can help me find any answers."

I could see it, the desperation in his eyes. I could see how much he wanted—no, needed—these answers he was asking me to find. It made me uncomfortable to see how vulnerable he truly was under the mask.

"Fine," I breathed. "Where do I start?"

Edward's eyes focused on me very briefly, his bright eyes looking surprised, maybe even a touch impressed.

"There are archives of the Sixteen, but no one is allowed in there. You're going to have to sneak in."

Honestly, why did I expect anything less?

"And if I'm caught?"

He shrugged. "Don't get caught."

I rolled my eyes.

"The best time to go will be when no one is around." His brows dipped. "The Sixteen have a ball coming up; that might be a good time."

"A ball?"

He must have heard the skepticism and laughter in my voice because he focused those laser eyes on me. "Yes, a ball. It's held every six months. A chance for us to be put to the test against important people." The flat detachment in his eyes told me that though he was trying to sound impressive, he didn't believe in any of it himself.

I barely resisted rolling my eyes, again. "And do all the commoners go too?" I asked, leaning on the word to show how much I hated it.

"Only with an invite from one of the Sixteen."

"Of fucking course," I muttered, shaking my head.

His jade eyes tracked across my face before he smiled a little. "I'd take you, to show you what you're dealing with, but I think it's best no one knows we are working together."

My eyes narrowed. "I'd like it best if no one knew we'd even spoken to each other."

At this, he grinned, and it was so fucking charming, I felt immediately disarmed.

"Probably best," he agreed. "Still, consider yourself lucky. Most of the kids at this school will never get an invitation, not even a fake one."

I shook my head. "I don't feel lucky to be singled out for what I'm sure is a disgusting display of excess and debauchery," I snapped.

Edward was still grinning. "Some kids have killed for an invite," he said, and though he was still smirking, it changed, his face growing a little darker. I tried not to shudder.

"I won't kill," I whispered, my throat feeling tight.

His eyes bore into mine like he was trying to see all the way into my soul.

"I don't expect you to," he said finally.

My mouth was dry, and suddenly, I wanted to be as far away from Edward as I could get.

"Can I go yet?" I asked, my voice small, barely more than a whisper.

Edward let out a breath. "Unless you're interested in a quick fuck? I promise I will make it worth your while."

My eyes shot up to his, glaring when I saw him smirking again.

"Absolutely not," I ground out.

He chuckled lightly but nodded.

"I won't stop offering, you know," he said, as I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder, re-securing it from where it was slipping down my arms.

"I'll keep saying no," I warned him.

His smirk was so confident, I felt my stomach clench just looking at him.

"No one can say no to me forever," he murmured, stepping closer to me. I could feel his body heat against the back of my hand where I was still clutching a book to my chest. He was a lot taller than me, and I felt crowded as he inched nearer and nearer.

He stopped, millimeters from me, and all I could feel and smell was him. He wasn't touching me, but he was somehow everywhere.

"I always get what I want," he whispered, leaning down toward me.

His eyes were brilliant and bright with his hunger. I could hardly breathe.

"The problem is," I whispered, my pulse erratic from his nearness. "You don't actually want me."

He frowned, pulling back slightly.

"All you want," I continued. "Is the challenge because I keep saying no. If I were to give in, you'd use me up like you do all those other girls, then toss me aside. And I'm not interested in being used for whatever it is you're trying to escape by sleeping around."

His eyes were wide, almost round, like he couldn't believe what I was saying. I wondered if anyone had ever said anything like it to him before.

I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders. "I'm going to go now. If there is information you need to pass along to me, you know where to find me."

With that, I stepped around him, unlocked the deadbolt, and slipped out of the bathroom into the still-empty hallway. I hurried into the library, not wanting to wait to hear Edward come out again.

…

It was difficult to focus the rest of the day. I couldn't quite wrap my head around what had happened with Edward, that we were somehow working together now. It was surprising, and not above suspicion, that he'd come to me for help, and though I didn't trust him by any stretch of the imagination, I didn't necessarily think he was lying either.

Either way, I was willing to see where this went.

I didn't feel Edward's eyes on me once during the few classes we had together, which worked out well since I didn't look at him either.

I wasn't picked on or bullied in class, which was an improvement, and when we had a pop quiz, I felt confident enough to answer every question.

By the time I got back to my dorm room, I felt stable which I hadn't felt in a long time.

There was a box on my bed waiting for me when I got in. Alice was sitting on her bed, writing in her journal with headphones in. I glanced at her then rolled my eyes, focusing on the box. There was no note on top, so carefully, I pulled off the lid.

Inside were three new sets of uniforms, all in my size, with a cell phone sitting on top of them. When I picked up the phone, it had a single message from a contact that read E.C.

To keep in contact, and because you've been looking like shit.

E.

Despite myself, I couldn't help smiling at the note. He was an ass, but I was realizing that was part of his charm.

I looked down at the uniforms, frowning. They were my size and looked brand new. I didn't want to accept anything from him, but I knew I couldn't afford to be selective now.

Putting the phone on my bed, I took my new clothes to my wardrobe, popping open the lock before hanging them carefully. Somehow, despite the fact that they'd been folded, they were still perfectly pressed.

I ran my hands over the material, frowning when I realized it even felt softer than what I had on. Did Edward have access to some luxury uniforms or something?

I rolled my eyes because almost undoubtedly, yes, he did.

I pulled out my borrowed yoga pants and hoodie and fished around for my toiletry bag before locking up my wardrobe again. Glancing at Alice once more told me she hadn't moved even an inch from her perch on her bed. I took the phone with me into the bathroom and flipped on the shower.

…

There weren't many kids out this late at night, but I was determined to find even a hint of privacy, so every time I saw one, I kept pushing on.

Finally, I found a balcony off one of the main halls. It was too small for even furniture, but it would be a decent spot to make a call.

I slipped outside, cold in the night air. I picked up my phone, dialing the familiar number. It was a toss-up whether Mom actually picked up. This number would be unfamiliar to her, and she might ignore it, thinking it was a scam.

"Hello?"

Hearing her voice brought immediate tears to my eyes. I blinked hard against the sudden swelling of them.

"Hey, Mom."

I heard Mom let out a breath. "Bella, baby, I've been so worried! Where have you been? I've been trying to call you!"

I winced.

"I'm sorry, Mom, I lost my phone," I lied.

Mom made a sound somewhere between frustrated and amused. She'd lost her phone so many times, she'd never be able to get mad at me for the same thing.

"Well, it's no matter," she said, and I could picture her shaking her blonde curls. "How are you? How is your new school?"

"I'm fine. Adjusting to school," I said carefully. "The kids here are really smart."

Mom hummed. "Then you must be right at home, baby."

I leaned back against the balcony, frowning. This was perpetually the problem with my mom. She heard what she wanted to then stopped listening when things got difficult. It was what she'd done with Jake… with countless other things in my life.

It was easier to lie to her, tell her what she wanted to hear, then shout to a woman who wouldn't, or couldn't, hear the hardships I was facing.

So instead of telling Mom how I'd nearly been killed and had been threatened since, I let out a breath, my eyes squeezing shut.

"Yeah," I said in response to her, my voice utterly flat.

"Phil says hi," Mom continued. "He's got a new job! Foreman for a construction company, isn't that wonderful?"

I rolled my eyes. Phil was always 'getting a new job.' He was the only person I knew who did worse with the commitment of work than my mom.

He was still holding out hope that he'd wake up one day, young and in shape enough to get past third string on a minor-league team.

"That's great, Mom," I said dryly.

"Isn't it? The company said something about giving him a truck after six months!"

They'd never see that truck. Phil would have some sort of temper tantrum and quit far sooner. That was his pattern.

"Awesome," I told her, not meaning it.

Mom chirped along, her happiness unbothered by my flat tone.

Our conversation lasted all of eight minutes, wherein Mom spoke mostly about her or Phil.

Her self-centeredness wasn't surprising, and it wasn't even disappointing as it had been in the past. Instead, I let my mom talk, listening to her babble on about things she thought were important, grateful that at the very least, some things hadn't changed.

…

Alice was still writing when I made it back to our room. She didn't look up as I came in and settled on my bed, her attention fixed on what she was doing.

I bit my lip, frowning.

The challenge ahead of me was steep, and I was coming into it completely blind. What was I supposed to do if I couldn't sneak into the archive?

I considered texting my worries to Edward then quickly brushed the thought aside. I wouldn't be confessing anything to him anytime soon.

I looked across my room at Alice and wondered, not for the first time, what her story was.

We shared a room, so I knew she wasn't part of the Sixteen. How had she ended up here? And what had happened to her since?

"Hey, Alice?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. She paused in her notebook, looking up at me with a scowl. I swallowed hard. "What do you know about the Sixteen?"

I don't know what I expected her to do, but I was surprised when she sat up and snapped her notebook shut, her attention entirely on me.

"So you're finally figuring it out," she said, her voice low and steady. "Took you long enough."

I ignored the jab. "What do you know about them?" I asked again.

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want to know about them?" she countered.

I shrugged. "Everything."

Alice climbed off her bed and went to her desk to retrieve a stack of tattered notebooks. When they were in her arms, she moved across our room to my bed and plopped them down.

"This is what I've learned," she whispered, pointing at the books.

I reached for one, glancing up at her to make sure she was okay with me touching it. She nodded and I gently pulled open the worn cover.

Inside the notebook was page upon page of the strangest-looking writing I'd ever seen. Symbols, codes, all of it was clearly not English, but I was fairly certain it wasn't any other official language either.

"What is this?" I asked, looking up at her.

"My own coded language," she explained. "I devised it to keep my work safe."

I stared at her. "You made up a language?"

She tapped her notebook. "I've made up several. It's not hard, once you understand that language is math."

What?

"Okay, so how do you translate this?" I asked, tapping her notebook.

"Well, first it has to be decoded," she said with a shrug.

I stared at her. "You wrote in code in your own language?"

She nodded. "The minds around here are world-class," she snapped at me. "You think they can't figure out how to translate basic languages? I have layers of protection on my work to keep people guessing what I know."

I stared at her, unsure if she was fucking brilliant or truly insane.

"Okay, well what if you tell me what you know?" I asked.

She sat on the edge of my bed, reaching for one of the notebooks. "You can't unlearn this," she whispered. "Once your eyes have been opened, they can't be shut again."

Her warning was chilling, but I nodded to her to let her know I understood.

She let out a breath and nodded. "Very well. Let's start at the beginning."