I read about prison experiments in school. Why else would they leave?

Reid scrunches up his face. “There’s no way that’s legal.”

“Oh, like that’s ever stopped them,” Grace comments from inside. She pokes her head out. “Nothing’s here. No sign of why they’re gone or where. No letters or notes. No hot coffee either. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here all night.”

She tosses a candy bar my way, and I barely manage to grab it.

“Eat up,” she says. “You look peaky.”

I stare at it, not hungry in the slightest.

“There’s no one on patrol either?” Reid asks. One of the boys who followed Reid has turned and is spreading the word. At a small gesture from Hunter, two others run into opposite directions.

“Not in our wings,” Grace says. “Presumably not in yours either, and I can’t imagine everyone’s hiding up north.”

“I have a few people checking the premises,” Hunter says, walking up to all of us—but especially me. He’s a lanky white boy with dirty-blond hair and sharp cheekbones. He stops next to me and places an arm around my shoulders. When he leans in, I can feel the hilt of a knife press into my side. No doubt he feels me tense up immediately.

He smiles at me. His voice is musical and smooth as honey. “We were planning to have fun tonight, but I did not expect the night to be this good.”

I must’ve squirmed, because Grace steps forward. “Lay off, Hunter. You’re a creep.”

Hunter lets go of me, and I stumble backward. It happens so fast, it takes my brain a second or two to catch up. He grabs Grace by the arm and twists her with such force, she goes crashing into the wall. Before she can pull back or defend herself, he is on her, and I see the flicker of a blade near her chin. While she inches away from the knife, he licks his lips. With the same charismatic voice, he says, “I’m happy to remind you of the rules here. But for tonight, it seems, we have more important issues at hand.”

She swallows.

“Understood?”

“Yes.”

He flicks his knife up in the air and catches it deftly as he gives Grace some breathing room again. She doesn’t immediately move. She clings to the wall like it’s the only thing that keeps her standing, and I’m fairly sure I’m the only one who sees a whole roller coaster of emotions play out across her face. Fear. Anger. Heartbreak.

She pushes herself up and brushes her hands on her pajama pants, and whatever mask she wears slips back into place. Only the shadows in her eyes remain. “What is your plan then, oh wise and magnanimous leader of all of us lowly folk?”

Hope buzzes with stories about Hunter. Stories that even I’ve heard. Stories that he killed another boy without reason or provocation. That he’s unpredictable and dangerous.

I believe everyone always has a reason for their actions. But when I see the glint in his eyes, I also believe the dangerous part.