CLARK POV:
My legs felt like jelly as I stood in the dim corridor, staring at Reed's disappearing figure. He'd led me to the men's dorm entrance, gave a curt yank on my arm, and then, almost casually, said:
"Mind your business, kid,"
Then turned and vanished.
And that was it. He let go of me, left me swaying there, dumbfounded. I looked down at my arm where he'd gripped me—it was tingling, almost numb, like a burning-bruised imprint. Was I supposed to thank him? I wondered.
His words echoed in my chest. "Mind your business, kid." My mind screamed: But I can't; I saw something. I can't just mind it.
Questions inflated in my chest. Was he involved with them? Were they a cult? Why the girl's screams turned to moans when blonde guy sank his jaw into her wrist? No tears. No struggle. Just... surrender.
It took all my nerve to step into the corridor again. It felt colder, darker. That feeling, the one you get when you sense predator eyes on your spine—it crawled all over me.
