Chapter 7
The heavy thud of the bedroom door closing echoed in the living room. With Briar gone, the atmosphere among the remaining four shifted, becoming loose and ugly.
Dallin threw his boots up onto the pristine crystal coffee table, right next to the crack Alana had made. He poured himself another generous measure of expensive bourbon, relishing the perks of their new corporate sponsor.
"So," Dallin said, taking a slow sip, "how long do we let her freeze out there before we make the call?"
Jered resumed polishing his combat dagger, the metallic scrape loud in the quiet room. "Give her a few hours. Let the cold and the reality of the slums really sink into her bones. She needs to feel totally abandoned."
Charmaine hummed in agreement, elegantly crossing her legs. "Despair is a fantastic tenderizer. By the time Chet's men find her, she'll be begging for a warm bed, no matter whose it is."
Cash poured himself a drink, swirling the amber liquid as a sadistic smile stretched across his face. For three years, they had watched her struggle. They had watched her cry in frustration after every failed summoning, secretly knowing Dallin had rigged the game from the start. And they had used the "Dud" label to break her confidence, keeping her chained to their squad as a free labor machine. Now, discarding her like trash felt like the ultimate victory. They had used her up, and now they would sell the scraps.
Cash pulled up his comm-link interface. "Let's see how our little stray dog is doing. I want to see her cry before I call Chet."
He tapped Alana's name on his contact list, switching the call to holographic video mode so everyone could watch. He cleared his throat, practicing a look of fake, mocking pity.
The screen pulsed blue as it attempted to connect. Dallin leaned in, grinning.
Three seconds passed.
Suddenly, a massive, glaring red 'X' filled the projection. A cold, synthetic female voice echoed through the luxurious living room.
"We are sorry. The user you are trying to reach has placed you on their blacklist."
The room went dead silent. Dallin's laugh caught in his throat, making him choke.
Cash's fake smile froze. The muscles in his jaw twitched. He jammed his finger against the redial button, pressing it so hard the screen warped.
"We are sorry. The user-"
Cash canceled the prompt. The veins on his forehead bulged against his skin. His authority had been challenged. The idea that Alana-the useless Dud they had manipulated for years-dared to preemptively block him was an insult he couldn't stomach. He was the one who discarded her. She didn't get to walk away.
"Dallin. Call her," Cash barked.
Dallin fumbled with his wrist, pulling up his own contacts. He hit dial.
Red X. Blocked.
Jered tried. Blocked. Charmaine tried. Blocked.
She had cut them all off. Completely.
Cash's face turned a violent shade of purple. He grabbed his heavy crystal whiskey glass and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the pristine white wall, shattering into a hundred pieces and leaving a dark, ugly stain.
"That ungrateful bitch!" Cash roared, his chest heaving. "She thinks she can just shut us out? After everything we gave her?"
He paced the room like a caged animal, his boots crunching on the broken glass. His breathing was ragged, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles popped. The audacity of it burned him from the inside out.
"Tomorrow," Cash snarled, his eyes burning with toxic rage. "When she comes to campus to beg for a transfer, I am going to humiliate her in front of the entire academy. I will tear her pride to shreds."
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