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"I officially hate you, you overgrown mite!"

"That's an improvement actually. You looked seconds away from killing me. We've made some progress, hmm?"

She scowled and wrenched her leg free from his grip. "It's not progress when I still want to smother you with this pillow."

"Ooh, kinky. Never knew you were into these things—"

"GET OUT!"

(Y/n) had been rudely woken up and startled by the appearance of a certain white-haired male in the bed next to her. At her shocked stare, he grinned mischievously and had the decency to say, "Good morning dear, I thoroughly enjoyed last night."

So she did what was the only thing to do in that situation: kick him in the face. Only he had the reflexes to match his catlike nature, seizing her ankle swiftly before she could hammer his stupid face into the ground.

She promptly drove her other foot into his chest, knocking him off the bed in a fit of laughter.

Now that the nuisance was out of the room, she finally had some peace and quiet. One glance at the ornate clock hanging on the wall told her it was late into the afternoon. It was more like the nighttime rather, with the pinks and purples that painted the sky beyond her windows, the clouds basking in the afterglow of the fading sun. She shouldn't be awake at this ungodly hour. But she was, thanks to Kieran.

Her moment of silence and solitude was a fleeting one as a knock sounded on the door. Without waiting for an answer, the door reopened, light trickling in from the hallway and into her unlighted room. Tristan closed it behind him. He held something in his hands. After doing so, he took in her unkempt state and unpleasant expression with a raised brow.

"I trust that you've rested well? Although most people don't sleep at this time..."

If he was waiting for her to care, he'd be waiting for a really long time. She chose to continue the silent treatment and responded to his comment with an eye roll. She flopped back onto the bed and turned over with a huff.

She heard him make a disbelieving sound before stepping closer to her bed and placing whatever he was holding on the nightstand. "Have you had anything to eat?" He asked, taking a seat on the bed. "Aside from the mess in the kitchen. I've ordered takeout for you. The kitchen is still...out of order. And it's not healthy to only eat cake."

No response, (Y/n) schooled herself, ignoring the tempting aroma of the bag that drifted towards her. Yep, don't show a reaction. I'm not going to eat anything you give me. Nope. No way.

When he realized she wasn't going to respond he sighed and pulled away. Just when she thought he was gone, he sat back down, the mattress dipping under his added weight and the sheets rustling as he moved. There was a crack as he opened a container and placed it on the nightstand. The familiar smell of (f/f) was stronger than ever, filling the air with its delectable scent and triggering another roar from the monster that lived in her stomach.

Stupid stomach.

Tristan chuckled at the sound. "You have to eat something, (Y/n). Or would you prefer something else to eat? Just say the word."

She scoffed and burrowed deeper into the comforter. There was no way he was going to make her do anything.

"Very well." His soft tone was gone, replaced by the colder and harsher version she so despised. "How about we make a deal. For every bite you waste in this house, that friend of yours is going to lose a part of him. This time I was thinking of his fingers—"

"What the hell?!" (Y/n) sat up, the comforter falling off her shoulders and pooling around her legs. "What did you do to Reese?"

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "So she talks. Are you finally ready to cooperate?"

She ground her teeth, her hands tightening on the sheets. "You're despicable."

"I've been called worse."

Ignoring him, she snatched the container from the nightstand and shoved an unwilling bite into her mouth. "Happy now?"

"It's a start."

She gave him a pointed look and then one to the door, signaling that he could leave now. If he noticed, he chose not to take the hint. He didn't move from his position leaning against the bedpost, his arms crossed and one leg over the other in that same confident posture she hated, watching her. Watching if she'd choose to cower under his unsettling gaze or make the wrong move. Waiting. Waiting for her to slip up.

(Y/n) was pretty sure she hated Tristan more than she did Kieran at this point. She took another angry bite of her (f/f). She loved (f/f) but now she could barely taste it. How could she when Reese could possibly be in danger right now? He could be battered and bruised while she slept comfortably in this four-poster bed. It was a likely scenario; she knew they were capable of it.

When she was done, she slammed the container onto the nightstand. She was pretty sure that wasn't what nightstands were used for but she was too angry to care. "There. And I want to see him."

His response was immediate. "You aren't going anywhere."

She set her jaw, irritation blossoming in her chest. "So I am a hostage."

"No, you're a guest—"

"A guest who's not allowed to visit anyone else," she interrupted with a humorless laugh. "I can speak English and I know what a hostage is. Do you?"

His jaw ticked and his cold eyes flashed with azure poison. "This whole thing is semantics. What have I not given you? A comfortable bedroom and new clothes—"

"Clothes I probably don't even like and I can't even leave this place!" She spat."

"Your favorite food and the rest of your meals will be nothing short of a five-star dish—"

"As if that's going to change the fact I'm being made to stay here. Unwillingly, I might add!"

"A cinema, T.V., movies, a pool, whatever entertainment you can think of—"

"How about you give me my laptop and let me be on my way?"

Tristan's eyes darkened. "You, (Y/n) White, are difficult to please."

"Hardly," she snorted. "Set me and my friends free, let us go, vow to never bother us again, and I'd be a bundle of sunshine. I'd even kiss your feet."

His expression tightened to the point it was painful to look at but he said nothing. (Y/n) continued on, ignoring his murderous aura. "But I'm not helping you in whatever the fudge you've brought me here for. Protecting me? I'm not that dumb. You probably want to use me as some kind of scapegoat when you kill your father. Well, guess what. Call me a hypocrite all you like but I'm not helping you kill anyone, even if that someone is the headmaster, that psycho."

"Don't you hate him?" He said. "Don't you hate what he's done to your friends?"

"You and I both know it's easier to hate the actual murderer. Sure I wish the guy would get run over by a colony of fire ants—and hopefully chewed up by them and spat out—but that doesn't make you any less innocent. You let them die, so you basically killed them. I will never forgive you for that but then again, who cares? Why would you care how other people feel? You never do. You wouldn't even understand anyway."

He stiffened but his voice was deadly calm. "Are you implying I have no emotions?"

She tightened her grip on the sheets. It took all her willpower to not use them to strangle him—it would end badly and not in her favor. "You said it," she sneered. "Not me."

He made an odd humming sound at the back of his throat and his eyes left her face, falling to the bed, the walls, the frames—anything but her. He cleared his throat and placed his palms on the bed, pushing himself to his feet. She watched warily as he brushed down his shirt and adjusted his glasses, but he was no longer facing her.

"Excuse me," he said. There was an undernote to his voice she couldn't quite place. And when she did, he was already across the room and opening the door. Hurt, she realized. It was hurt. She had hurt him and not with her hands but with her words. The realization brought her less satisfaction than she wanted and something like guilt curled uncomfortably in her stomach.

She quenched it immediately. Good, she forced herself to believe. Let him be hurt. He deserves it. But the traitorous part of her wanted to take it back. An apology hung at the tip of her tongue but she bit it back, shaking her head. He deserved it given everything he's done and put her and her friends through. His only motive was himself. He only felt pride, so wasn't it true?

Even if she wanted to apologize, it was already too late. Tristan was gone, the door closing with a soft click behind him. If he had slammed it she wouldn't feel this bad. But he didn't, and it only made her guilt grow and grow.

Stop it, (Y/n) told herself. Don't feel crappy for your kidnapper. He has Reese prisoner, remember? Then again Tristan might've been bluffing. It could've been a bluff to keep her here and obedient. Either way, she had to make sure for herself. She had to see him in person.

She pushed herself off the bed, not wanting to stay in the room any longer. Pitying herself would do nothing. She opened the door and much to her surprise, Tristan was still there. He jumped at the sound of the door opening and spun around, already quickly fitting himself back into that emotionless mask. He stopped and angled his body away from her so that she could only partially see his face, his eyes not meeting hers. It was obvious he had no intention of speaking.

Her mouth opened and closed, not knowing what to say. Then she sighed. I'm not a nice person but obviously not mean enough. "Hey," she said quietly. Tristan said nothing, but something flickered in his eyes at her voice. She took a tentative step closer. The thought sounded so incredulous in her head but it had to be said. "Did I...did I hurt your feelings?"

His jaw worked as he looked at anything but her. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, his tone clipped. But it was obvious he did with the way he wasn't looking at her.

"Well, I..." She trailed off, not sure what to say. She bit her lip. Was there any point in apologizing? This entire situation was absurd. Tristan Knight was called the Ice Prince for a reason, and not just for his sharp tongue and prideful air. His heart was virtually frozen over. Who was he to care what a normal girl with no standing like (Y/n) was to say?

He shook his head, starting to excuse himself again but she stopped him, latching a hand around his wrist. He looked up in surprise. (Y/n) shoved down her indecisiveness and spoke. "I don't like you," she said. "And I'm not going to pretend I do. I'm no judge of what you deserve since I'm no saint either, but I can say I went over the line there. I have no right to assume things about you"—Especially when I'm like this, she added silently in her head—"I'm not asking you to forgive me. We can go back to hating each other after this. I just wanted to say, uh, I'm sorry."

That was probably the worst apology ever in history but, hey, what could (Y/n) say? She was never one for words and it was Tristan she was dealing with.

He finally tore his eyes from the spot on the floor his gaze was glued to and met her eyes. There was something forlorn in those clear blue orbs like a ripple on the surface of otherwise crystalline waters of a lake. Her breath hitched and her chest tightened at the sight.

"You're not the first to say that to me," he said quietly, only his lips moving. "I'm no stranger to insults."

"I know." Did she really? "But that one was different. Even calling you a prick is better. You are one, by the way."

A corner of his mouth lifted into a sad smile. "I accept your apology."

"Gee, thanks. I feel so accomplished now."

He shook his head but there was silent laughter in his eyes. "You're not used to apologizing, are you?"

"That makes me sound really bad but I'm going to ignore it. And no, not really. People know I'm usually being sarcastic. But this time...well, um..."

He reached over and freed a strand of her hair that was stuck to her face from her sleep, tucking it behind her ear in a gesture that was almost...soft. (Y/n) stood frozen as his hand, now that it's lost its purpose, hovered over her cheek for what felt like an eternity before dropping to his side.

He cleared his throat. "Tomorrow. You can see Grayson first thing in the morning."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Are you sure? Tomorrow?"

He went back to looking like he was internally struggling with something. "Yes," he voiced. "I will take you to see him myself tomorrow. But nothing more than that."

That was more than enough for her. She almost couldn't keep her excitement. "Promise? You can't go back on your word!"

"I never break my promises."

She cheered and threw a mental party in celebration. Her unexpected "apology" hadn't been any manipulative ploy of her to get on his good side but who knew? Apparently good deeds (she didn't know if this was considered one but oh well), even little ones, yield copious results.

She was still nowhere near breaking out of this nightmare that turned her life upside down, but this was a start.

(Y/n) was finally able to reach the starting line. Little did she know, there was no finish line in this rollercoaster called her life.

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The promise of tomorrow kept her awake all night. The (h/c)-haired girl tossed and turned both in anticipation and agonizing worry. What if Tristan didn't keep his word? What if there was some kind of catch to it? Or what if Reese was there...but in an unspeakable condition?

All she had now was trust. Trust in Tristan and his words that might be meaningless to him but everything to her. Trust in Reese that he'd kept his promise of being as annoying as he could to potential kidnappers. Kidding, the second one was a joke.

Maybe.

The curtains were drawn over the windows, hiding the cloud swathed moon and the mist that clung to the metal bars. Or perhaps they were hiding her, hiding her from whatever lurked beyond the glass. There was no sound in the room. None at all. Not even from the clock overhead; it ticked noiselessly as the hour hand slowly neared twelve. This had to be the latest she's been awake.

(Y/n) had busied herself the hours before by moving all the furniture in the room against the door in case the lock failed. Knowing Tristan, he probably had a master key to every room in the dormitory. Heck, could it still be called a dormitory when it was more like a five-star resort? The ground floor was literally a museum with all the magnificent artworks it boasted.

She sat straight up on her bed and frowned, playing absentmindedly with a corner of the comforter. If neither Tristan or Mr. Howards killed Nova, then who did? She had a hard time believing there was someone in the Game capable of deceiving the headmaster and killing people using the Seeker's name. How would that even work?

The whole made, as usual, her head hurt. Nothing seemed to make sense. Everyone was saying different things. June claimed Mr. Brooks killed Reese but the redhead looked perfectly fine. Tristan said Mr. Howards didn't kill all the people he was said to have but the man didn't exactly deny it either.

Then she brightened. I can just ask Reese tomorrow, she reasoned. He'd never lie to me. And he didn't say who attacked him, did he?

There was a thump on her door. She stilled. She heard someone jiggle the doorknob, unlock it, and then try to push their way inside. But the furniture held. The person made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and began walking away. (Y/n) held her breath for what felt like forever when another sound came, this time at her window.

Oh, crap! She nearly fell on her face as she scrambled off her bed. I didn't think to block the windows because who thought any of them would ever try to fit their rich, pompous donkeys through there?

But she was too late; the balcony door pushed open and Leon came inside. In his arms was a bundle of fur. He made a surprised sound and nearly stumbled back when he saw her eyes were open and she was very much awake.

He recovered from his surprise and coughed uncomfortably. "Sorry I woke you up," he began in an apologetic voice so genuine she nearly lost her initial annoyance. "The door was"—he glanced at the furniture stacked hazardously on top of each other against the door blankly—"Broken."

If it doesn't open there's probably a good reason for it! She wanted to shout at him. "So you thought it was a good idea to crawl in through the window?"

"Sorry...I'll come in the morning next time."

No, don't come at all!

He seemed to notice the bundle he was holding. "It's for you," he said quietly, taking a step towards her. She instinctively flinched back. Hurt flashed through his metallic eyes for a brief second. He quickly masked it with indifference. (Y/n) watched him suspiciously as he approached her bed and set the bundle down on her covers.

It was a puppy. A cute and very fluffy Samoyed to be exact.

She furrowed her brow. "As cute as it is, why are you bringing me a dog?"

Leon looked embarrassed as he scratched the back of his neck. "I wanted you to find it in the morning," he admitted. "I thought it would be nice for you to have. Pass time with when you're bored. I wanted to bring a German Shepherd instead but we already have one of those..."

That peaked her interest. "You have a dog here? Besides this one?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "A few of us brought our pets here. I think Kieran has some kind of lion at home he wanted to bring. Tristan has a Rottweiler but it's more accurate to say his butlers have a Rottweiler." He realized he was rambling and cut himself off with a cough. He didn't mention Jaehyun and (Y/n) didn't bring it up either.

"Oh..." she poked the sleeping dog's fur, worried that she might wake it. "Thanks for the gift." I'm still mad.

He nodded and cracked a small smile as he watched her attempt to pet the dog again but not know where to put her hands in fear she might hurt it. He bit his lip, resolving himself of something, and moved closer. (Y/n) involuntarily tensed up as his shadow fell over her. Thankfully, he stopped right by the bedside and knelt down next to the two.

"She likes being scratched under the chin and on the back of her neck," he said softly, running his fingers through the dog's soft white fur as if it was a thing of glass, so brittle and easily broken under his touch. "You'll see when she wakes up."

"Mhm, got it."

There was a slightly dazed look in his eyes as he opened his mouth to stay something but held it back, a distressed look on his face she couldn't quite place. "What's up?" She propped, a little confused.

He shook his head. "It's nothing." The black-haired male placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself up to his natural height, easily towering over her and the bed combined. He placed a hand on the frame, leaning on it, his bright silver eyes peeking out through his dark locks.

"Don't stay up too late," he told her. "Get some rest."

Bro for the last time, I ain't a kid. But she didn't say that, opting for a nod and a thumbs-up instead. "Got it, old man."

Only when he was gone did she breathe out a sigh she didn't know she had been holding. The room was dark again and he had made quick work of the piled-up furniture as he left, this time through the door. She looked down at the sleeping bundle of fur beside her and sighed. It's hard to read his intentions and stay mad at him when he acts like this.

The next morning she woke up in peace, much to her relief. No annoying overgrown mite invading the bed or an overly tall beanstalk on steroids climbing in through her window and giving her a heart attack. Her moment of peace and quiet didn't last long, however, when the door opened just as she was about to settle back into the sheets—or better, lock herself in the closet—and the last person she wanted to see waltzed into the room like he owned the place.

She met his bright smile with a blank expression. "Good morning, (Y/n)!" He chirped, plopping down on the edge of the bed. The mattress bounced him up, his hair flying up from his glimmering ruby eyes before falling back over them. "Did you sleep well?"

An innocent question in an equally innocent tone. But she knew better now. Choosing to stay quiet, she fixed her gaze on no spot in particular behind the boy.

His gaze darkened. "I asked, did you sleep well?"

A shiver ran up her spine at his cold tone and she clenched her jaw, knowing he would only threaten her again or pester her with his annoying delusions. "Fine," she spat in the most venomous voice she could muster. "Didn't wake up well though."

If he caught her sarcasm, he chose to ignore it. "That's great!" His joyful expression as if this world he lived in was a perfect fantasy, a far cry from what was really happening, was too much for her too look at. "Breakfast is ready downstairs. Or do you want to eat here? I don't mind bringing it to you—we wouldn't have to see their mean faces but then again I guess Tristan would skin me alive."

Then why did you ask? She wanted to growl.

He tapped his bottom lip in thought and then brightened. "Oh well! We have alone time later anyway. We have allll the time in the world from now on!"

As his spirits rose hers only dropped. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach that refused to go away no matter what she did, digging its long claws into her skin, threatening to tear out chunks of her sanity with it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew things wouldn't be the same again. They wouldn't let her and Reese go without a fight; they already knew too much. Worst case scenario they would be killed. The dead can't talk, after all. And then their bodies destroyed to further cover up the evidence, leaving their families without any closure. None at all.

It was cruel, and she knew Tristan was perfectly capable of that. And Jaehyun voicing her worst fears out loud only made things worse.

The boy lowered his head to peer into her downcast eyes. "What's wrong?" He voiced, a little wrinkle between his brows as he scanned her face worriedly. "Are you upset? I'm sorry, I should've asked what you needed! Let's get breakfast and then I'll show you something to cheer you up, alright?"

"How about you bring me to Reese and let us go on our merry way?" She knew it was a futile attempt but an attempt nevertheless. Little chips and nicks into the mountain was what ultimately led to the creation of the Transcontinental Railroad.

And hundreds of dead laborers.

His expressions morphed into something dark, a harrowing inverse to the serene and angelic features that both unnerved and placated her at the same time. His grip on her wrist tightened until it was almost painful but his smile remained fixed in place.

"Breakfast. Okay?"

It wasn't a question. It was a demand. She hated demands, but who was she to resist?

(Y/n) winced at the discomfort in her wrist that soon turned to pain. "Okay, I got it!" She tried to yank her hand away. "I said okay!"

He finally let go. Her hand flew to her side as she pressed her arm to her torso protectively, massaging the skin that was surely beginning to bruise. Jaehyun rose off the bed, looking as if nothing had happened.

He extended a hand to her. "You'll like what the chefs prepared today. Something sweet always cheers me up. You'll like it. I'm sure you will!"

"I don't like sweets," (Y/n) lied, spitting out the words as if they were poison.

The blond simply shrugged. "Well, you'll like these."

Did this guy hear anything she just said?

He pulled her up without waiting for her response, the sudden action nearly making her trip over her two left feet. "Come on, they're going to get cold!" He scolded as he dragged them down the stairs, (Y/n) being as unwilling and unagreeable as she could. "I guess it doesn't matter if they're cold since they're buns. But they're best warm. You'll see. I'm sure you'd like them!"

I'm sure I'd like to pull your head out of your a** with how deep it's buried down there.

The dining room was bigger than almost her entire apartment and well-lit with a marble floor, brass fittings, potted plants, and a long, mahogany table with white cushioned chairs around it. The beautiful wall lights with their twisted golden designs gave an effect of uber-luxe sophistication.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting when he tugged her through the door. That was a lie: she knew exactly what she was expecting, the classic board of executives meeting where the people who have already seated stare you down for being late. Fortunately, the table was mostly empty. Kieran and Leon were still absent, leaving only Tristan seated at the head of the table.

Commence the stink eyes.

"You're late," was his only greeting. No "good morning" or "how was your sleep?" Even Jaehyun, that little devil, had the decency to inquire after her welfare. Even if he was prone to dragging her out the door and down flights of stairs as if she was nothing more than a ragdoll. The boy was really a lot stronger than he looked.

"Good for you," she snapped, picking the seat furthest from the two. Or as far as she could go with the blond sticking to her side.

His brow furrowed but he didn't comment on her sarcasm. It would be like asking a fish to start living in a tree. "I hope you like Italian. I made sure the chef matched your tastes but I wasn't sure if you enjoyed their cuisine—"

Nice talk, but I don't care, she thought dryly, tuning him out as she poked her fork into her generous helping of what looked like baked eggs and sausages. All with tomatoes and some kind of tomato sauce with buttered rolls on the side. On another plate were several servings of cloud eggs and slices of honeydew. She had a glass of chilled (f/d) with it all.

Jaehyun pushed a plate towards her. "Try it," he said excitedly. "They're called Maritozzi."

The pastries on the ivory plate were still warm; fluffy white buns filled with fresh cream and studded with something like pine nuts, raisins, and candied orange peels. Powdered sugar was dusted lightly on the golden brown sides.

Under his eager gaze, she had no choice but to stab her fork through it and take a bite, not really caring if she was committing any kind of food crime at the moment. The whipped cream melted on her tongue, the fluffy sweet bread yielding instantly under her bite. She hated to admit it, but it was delicious.

Ha, as if she'd ever admit it. She'd eat the food like it hurt her tastebuds to take a single bite.

"You like it?" Jaehyun was waiting for her comment. He seemed to see something in her eyes before she could respond. "That's great!" What is?! She wanted to scowl. "I think you'll like these too."

Morning Jaehyun was like that one uncle who comes over every year and keeps telling you "you're too skinny! Eat more!" and places layers upon layers of food on your plate, making you eat until you burst. (Y/n) couldn't see Tristan's face anymore—which was nice—over the growing mountain of breakfast foods before her.

Starving children are dying somewhere and I'm being fattened up like a pig, she thought as she took a bite of a piece of toast slathered with butter and jam. Well, I hope popsicle keeps his word at least.

As if reading her mind, Tristan placed down his fork and wiped, more liked dabbed, his mouth with a folded napkin. "Are you done, (Y/n)?" He asked, rising gracefully out of his seat. "A promise is a promise. I will meet you in the study if you're not finished—"

"No, I'm done." She hurriedly returned her utensils to the plate and got up, ignoring Jaehyun's curious gaze.

Tristan turned his attention to the blond. "We have some matters to attend to," he told him. "Do not tell the others anything."

Jaehyun didn't look pleased with the idea but ultimately chose to suck it up. "Okay," he sighed. Then to the (h/c)-haired girl, "I'll see you later, okay?"

His hopeful look and voice almost made her falter. Almost. She merely shrugged and followed the blue-haired male outside where he was waiting by the door. Maybe she should've snuck a piece of Reese's Pieces chocolate to bring to the redhead, (Y/n) realized. She could only hope they were treating him well.

Wait no, that would be cannibalism.

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A/N: Anyone wanna recommend character songs?