I feel a burning sensation in my throat and swallow it back. Her words hurt, but I can’t let them get to me. That’s exactly what she wants. She’s been playing me all night, luring me out to her car, threatening to take me miles away from Darkwood’s campus. I can’t figure out why she didn’t just drug me too, along with my friends—except that she knew that long car ride would be worse torture for me than being locked up here, with Maude, Thea, and Pippa.

And Ollie. She set him up as an extra-special treat for me. She probably couldn’t wait for me to get here and see him in that chair, couldn’t wait to witness the blind hope in my eyes when I thought, for a split second, he might be Levi…

“You weren’t supposed to be here for hours, after we drove around half the night,” Harlowe notes as she paces in a circle, running a finger absentmindedly down the sharp edge of the knife. “I suppose we’ll have to speed up the evening’s agenda. Graham?”

He takes the cue, scuttling off to follow orders while Ivy walks over and slaps Ollie humorlessly on the cheek, more than once.

“Get your hands off him—” I make a move to shove Ivy away from Ollie, feeling more protective of him than ever. Then he opens his eyes and groggily looks around.

“Emma?” he asks, confusion in his voice. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

Before I can answer, the dim light in the room is unplugged, or turned off, and we’re all plunged into absolute darkness.

“Now,” Harlowe commands. Before I know what’s happening, a holographic slideshow begins playing on the opposite wall, which is bare except for a few pipes and wires, serving as a giant, flat screen.

“What—”

“Sh,” Harlowe hushes me. “Watch first. Ask later. Actually, ask never. This should be completely self-explanatory.”

The first photo in the sequence is one of Pru’s family, and I instantly feel myself tensing up at the sight of the image. It’s Pru, as an eight- or nine-year-old, blowing out the candles on a unicorn birthday cake. Her mother stands behind her, looking young, her skin glowing and healthy, and I know this picture was taken before the cancer ravaged her body. That photo fades, and a new image takes its place: a picture of a beaming Madison standing up on a stage while her father is sworn in as vice president. Madison’s about ten and wears a white dress and a pink coat. Her mother, Bianca Huxley, stands stiffly behind her, resting a hand on Madison’s shoulder.