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The car drops me at the gates and I'm already surrounded.
Six of them. Freshmen like me, but they got here first and that means they think they own the entrance. The tall one in front has her arms crossed. The others fan out on either side. They're blocking the path to the main courtyard.
I don't recognize any of them from last time. That's good. Means they don't know what I can do. Means they haven't decided yet if I'm worth breaking.
"You lost?" The tall one speaks first. Her hair's pulled back so tight it makes her eyes look mean. "This isn't the modeling agency."
The others laugh. It's the kind of laugh girls practice in bathroom mirrors.
I could walk around them. There's space on the left. But if I do that now I'll be doing it every day for the next four years. So I step forward instead.
"I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
"Oh, she talks." A short girl with a nose ring steps closer. She's got a knife on her belt. They all do. That's the thing about Ironridge. Weapons aren't banned. They're encouraged. "You know what happens to pretty girls here?"
I do. I died because of it.
But I just smile. "Tell me."
That throws her. She wasn't expecting me to engage. Most pretty girls either cry or run. I did both last time. Not this round.
"They get used up," the tall one says. She moves into my space. She smells like cheap body spray and something sharper. Adrenaline maybe. Or fear. "Core Zone boys keep a few as pets. The rest get traded around until there's nothing left worth trading."
"Sounds like you've thought about this a lot."
Her eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." I let the smile stay. "Just wondering if you're warning me or making me an offer."
Someone behind me laughs. Not one of the six. There's a crowd forming. Great. An audience means whoever wins this gets a reputation. Whoever loses gets remembered.
The tall girl's face goes red. "You think you're funny?"
"I think I'm late for orientation." I try to step around her.
She grabs my arm. Her fingers dig in hard enough to bruise. "You don't walk away until we say you can."
I look down at her hand. Then up at her face. "You sure you want to do this?"
"What are you gonna do? Cry?"
Last time I would have. This time I twist my arm, break her grip, and take two steps back. It's not a fancy move. Just basic self-defense. But it's enough to change the energy.
The crowd goes quiet.
The tall girl stares at her hand like it betrayed her. Then she looks at her friends. They look back. There's a whole conversation happening in the silence.
Finally the girl with the nose ring pulls her knife.
"You want to play?" She flips it once. Showing off. "Let's play."
I don't move. I don't run. I just watch the blade catch the light.
"Core Zone's gonna love you," she says. She's walking toward me now. Slow. Savoring it. "Pretty face, no survival instinct. You'll be someone's toy by the end of the week."
"Maybe." I keep my voice level. "Or maybe you're about to do something really stupid in front of a hundred witnesses."
She stops. Looks around. The crowd's gotten bigger. There are phones out now. People recording.
But she doesn't back down. Instead she smiles. "I'm not gonna cut your face. That'd be wasteful."
She lunges. Not at me. At my dress.
The fabric tears. A long clean slice from shoulder to hem. The sound is loud in the quiet. My sleeve falls. The dress hangs open.
The crowd murmurs. Some laugh. Some whisper.
I look down at the ruined dress. Then at the girl. She's grinning. Proud of herself.
"There," she says. "Now you look like you belong here."
She turns to walk away.
That's when I move.
I step forward, catch her wrist, and twist. The knife drops. I catch it before it hits the ground. Then I'm behind her, one arm around her shoulders, the blade under my own throat.
Everyone freezes.
"You're right," I say. My voice is quiet. Calm. "Pretty girls get used up here. But you know what's worse than being pretty?"
I press the blade a little harder. Not enough to cut. Just enough to make the point.
"Being boring."
I let her go. Drop the knife at her feet. Then I step around her and walk through the gates.
No one stops me.
The courtyard is huge. Gray stone buildings on three sides. A fountain in the center that's not running. And everywhere, students. Hundreds of them. All watching me walk past in my torn dress like I own the place.
I don't. Not yet.
But I will.
I'm halfway to the main building when the speakers crackle to life.
"Attention all students." The voice is male. Bored. Like he's reading off a script he's read a thousand times. "Orientation will commence in thirty minutes. All freshmen report to the East Hall. Returning students, you know the drill."
There's a pause. I keep walking.
Then the voice comes back. Different now. Sharper. Interested.
"Oh, and one more thing. This year's first trial will begin tonight. For those of you who are new, trials are how we separate the players from the prey. This one's a classic."
Another pause. Longer this time.
I stop walking.
"It's called Pretty Prey. Rules are simple. We've selected one student as the prize. Everyone else is the hunter. You have seventy-two hours. If the prey survives, they get immunity for the semester and a Core Zone recommendation. If they don't..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to.
"This year's Pretty Prey is Ivy Gray. Congratulations, Ivy. Hope you're ready."
The speakers cut out.
The courtyard erupts.
Everyone's talking at once. Phones are out. People are pointing. At me.
I stand there in my torn dress, feeling every eye on my skin.
Last time, I didn't know about Pretty Prey until it started. I spent three days running. Hiding. Begging. It didn't matter. They caught me anyway.
This time I've got thirty minutes.
I start walking again. Faster now. I need to get inside. Find a map. Figure out where the safe zones are. If there even are any.
But before I reach the doors, someone steps in front of me.
Cain.
He looks exactly like he did in my living room yesterday. Perfect hair. Perfect suit. Perfect smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Ivy." He says my name like we're old friends. Like he didn't drown me in a lake last time. "We need to talk."
"Not interested."
I try to walk past him. He moves with me. Blocking without touching.
"You don't understand what you just walked into."
"I understand perfectly." I meet his eyes. "I'm bait. That's the point."
"No." His voice drops. "The point is to see who takes the bait. And who protects it."
I stop. "What?"
But before he can answer, the speakers crackle again.
"Correction. All students participating in Pretty Prey must register in the South Hall before tonight. No registration, no hunting rights. And just to keep things interesting..."
The voice pauses. I can hear the smile in it.
"This year's prey has one advantage. She can claim a single protector. One person who's allowed to fight at her side. Choose wisely, Ivy. Your life depends on it."
The speakers die.
Cain is still staring at me. "So," he says. "Who are you going to pick?"