how deep the water is, which poses a huge problem, seeing as how I can’t swim. Not that my parents didn’t try to teach me. They did a couple of times, but they kind of gave up when they realized I feared water and would freak the hell out every time they put me in a pool.
Maybe if I tell them, they won’t make me do this.
I nearly laugh at the stupidity of my own thoughts, but decide I have to at least try.
“I can’t swim.” I fidget with the leather bands on my wrists, feeling very exposed at the moment.
Zay snorts a laugh. “Nice try, but we’ve heard better lies from others trying to get out of this.”
My gaze skims the three of them, my heart rate quickening. “You guys do this to people a lot?”
Zay gives a lazy shrug. “How do you think we got everyone to fear us?”
As the urge to chatter arises, I press my lips together. Jesus, I think I’m going to have to jump. If I do, are they going to save me when they realize I can’t swim?
Probably not, which means …
Am I about to die?
I could try to run, but we’re out in the middle of nowhere, with three of them and one of me …
My gaze travels to the road behind me. How fast can I run?
As if sensing my thoughts, Zay sidesteps in front of me and folds his arms. “Don’t even think about running. You won’t make it very far, and you’ll be punished even more if you do.”
“Punished more than potentially dying? Yeah, I doubt that,” I mutter, racking my brain for another way around this.
Zay gives me a calculating assessment. “There is one other option if you’re too chicken shit to jump.”
Aw, yes, option one, the option Jax believed I was too much of a fighter for.
“What is it?” I ask warily.
Zay rubs his lips together then glances at Jax.
“We decided we should stick with option two,” Jax reminds him, resting his arm on top of the hood.
“I know.” Zay flits a glance in my direction then looks back at Jax. “But if she doesn’t want to jump, we might as well give her the option.”
Jax’s brow meticulously arches. “And giving her this option has nothing to do with you wanting to give her the option?”
“No,” Zay insists in an irritated tone. “She’s just interesting enough that I’m curious how it’ll go if we give her the other option.”
Jax rubs his jawline as snow begins fluttering from the dark clouds. “If you want to give it to her, then go ahead. I don’t think it’s going to turn out how you want it to, though.” He steps back and gestures at Zay to get a move on.
Hunter grins at me, snowflakes covering the top of his head. “I really hope, little raven, that you think carefully about your options here and make the smarter choice because, personally, I don’t want to see that pretty face of yours frozen in pain if you dive into that water.”
I glare at him, but he keeps on grinning.
Gritting my teeth, I twist back to face Zay. “What’s the other option?”
He gradually reclines against the front of the car and drags out the silence, probably to show me that he’s the one in charge here. “Instead of jumping off the beam, we’ll let you spend the rest of the year being our servant.”
“Your servant?” I repeat, unsure if I heard him clearly because, seriously, he wants me to be his servant?
No fucking way.
“Yes, servant. Which, in case you’re too stupid to understand what that word means”—he smirks at me when I glare at him—“it means you’ll spend the rest of the school year doing whatever we want you to do.”
I frown. “That sounds really unappealing.”
He shrugs. “Then I guess it’s the water for you.”
I hug my arms around myself and chew on my bottom lip. Maybe I could do that—be their servant. Swallow down my pride for a bit. But I guess it really depends on what that entails.
“Like, what sort of stuff would you want me to do? Clean your house? Make you food? Because you should know I’m a terrible cook.”
“I’m not talking about cooking or cleaning our house,” he says with a dark grin. “Well, unless I’m in the mood to see a little maid outfit on you, which doesn’t sound like a bad idea now that I think about it.”
Wait … Does he want me to be, like,