Because of their pathetic performance, Jean and Neil were tasked with shutting the court down afterward. That meant sweeping and polishing the court floor, then straightening up the mess the Ravens made of the locker room. By the time they were finally able to shower Neil could barely move. He didn't even care that the Ravens' shower room lacked stalls. He knelt on the tiled floor under the spray and let the heat ease some of the pain from his shattered body. Neil flexed his swollen fingers to make sure they were in working order. They moved, but he couldn't feel them.

"You should have run," Jean said, too exhausted and sore to be hateful anymore.

"I grew up on pain," Neil said. "Two weeks of this won't mean a thing."

"Three," Jean said.

Neil looked at him. "I only agreed to two. I'm leaving on New Year's Eve."

Jean closed his eyes and tilted his head further under the spray. "You ignorant child. This is the Ravens' Nest. We go by our time, not yours. We run on sixteen-hour days. You'll see."

Neil was too tired to deal with his dramatics, so he focused on washing up. He dressed in the loosest clothes he'd packed and trailed Jean to the kitchen. He barely tasted any of the food he put in his mouth, but he needed his strength. Jean put their plates in the dishwasher and brought Neil to Black Hall.

Riko was waiting for them in their bedroom. Neil didn't see him until he was already inside, and by then it was too late. Jean locked the door behind him and leaned against it. Neil considered fighting him, but he didn't have the energy and there was nowhere to go. He went to his bed like he didn't care he was trapped in here with them and sat on the edge of the mattress. He looked at the books and thought of Kayleigh's letter, thought of Jean and Kevin putting up with this day after day, year after year.

Riko got up from his bed, and Neil looked at him. Riko was smiling, and the look made Neil sick to his stomach. His father had looked at him with loathing and fury. He'd never looked like this, like Neil's blood would be the highlight of his day. The Butcher was a vicious killer with a hair-trigger temper, but he thrived on death and fear, not pain and submission.

"Keep away from me," Neil said.

Riko pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. "I thought you weren't afraid of my knives, Nathaniel. Was that a lie to make yourself feel better?"