2.4 | Knight In Distress ✓

10 | damsel in jitters

1 0

d a m s e l   i n   j i t t e r s

  

Things were beginning to fall apart. Now that the seventh round was over and Liam had fulfilled his promise, there was no knowing what the eighth round might hold. I had only Marcel to rely on. Although her status as a girlfriend kept her on Liam's (and, by extension, Corvus's) side, I knew I could trust her to get Miles out of fixes.

But we were now in too deep within the Hell Weeks. And if each round proved more dangerous than its predecessor, I hardly liked to see what the eighth, ninth and tenth round would bring.

I relayed my fears and frustration to Ean, who now seemed to be my only anchor amidst this mess. And he listened, although as a favour to him, I had to help him out at the shack despite Mum having given me a day off.

"Okay, let's get something straight here," he said, after I had told him what the seven rounds of initiation had entailed. "This sort of shit only happens at Riverton, right? Nowhere else?"

"Right."

"Oh, thank God," he exhaled dramatically. "I am never stepping foot into Riverton. You shouldn't, either."

I glanced up sharply. "Who said anything about attending Riverton?" I asked, but there was a ball of uneasiness I couldn't quench in my stomach.

"Weren't you and Marcel looking at Riverton brochures some months back? You two were talking about how exciting it'd be to room together and braid each other's hair and prance around campus with frilly pink tutus," he finished, his voice getting higher pitched in a ridiculous attempt to mimic us.

I rolled my eyes and continued arranging the packets of cookies on the shelf. "First of all, that's not how we sound like. Secondly, that was just fleeting enthusiasm - on my part, at least."

"Good thing it was just...hey, your phone's ringing."

Setting the carton of cookies down on the shelf, I headed over to him and he handed me my cell. "It's Miles," he muttered, eyebrows knitting together in curiosity.

After swiping the call button, I pressed the cell to my ear. "Miles?"

There was the sound of static on the other end of the line, and his voice sounded rather weak as he spoke. "Darcy?"

"Hey. Everything alright?"

"Sorry for calling. I-I just needed to hear your voice."

If this was a movie, then it'd be an incredibly cheesy moment filled with soft sighs from the captivated hearts of the audience. But it wasn't, and life had far more terrifying moments than it had cheesy ones. This was one of them.

And I knew at that moment that the eighth round of initiation had begun. My heart was racing as I gripped my phone tightly, shooting Ean a look that immediately sent him flipping the shack's sign to close.

"Miles? Where are you?"

I felt an uncanny sense of déjà vu as I waited for Miles to give an answer. It reminded me of the time when Marcel called and told me that Miles was going through the sixth round of initiation.

"Campus," he said, but his voice seemed rather unsteady, like he was having trouble breathing.

Even if I didn't have a first-hand experience at things like these, I knew without a doubt that something was terribly wrong. My first guess was that Miles was stuck in the eighth round of initiation, so I went with that hunch.