Iris Giorgianni is no ordinary girl. She's living a double life: a neglected daughter at home, but a fighter on the streets. As the leader of The Sangue - one of the most wanted and well-known gangs in London - Iris has a reputation to uphold. Only...
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"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along."
- Eleanor Roosevelt
IRIS WAS exhausted before the team games had even begun. She was incredibly jet lagged, had no motivation, and didn't even feel the need to utter a single word to anyone around her.
Once her name was called, she followed a line of people out of the tent and through an opening in the trees. She watched some of the people around her chat amongst themselves, some girls linking arms, some boys punching each other playfully. Nobody seemed to be too violent – there were a few people who had teardrop tattoos on their faces, but other than that, she wasn't able to gain any understanding about the people she was due to live with.
Her brain began to throb with a deep ache. She needed to rest, and she needed to sleep. This wasn't the day to be doing outdoor games.
Apparently, Jade had other plans. She stopped at what looked like an assault course, made with wooden climbing frames and various rope activities. There were also some tyres, a wall and whatever else was at the end of it.
"Okay everyone, listen up." Jade shouted over the group. "I need you to get into your teams."
The delinquents moved towards one another like magnetized zombies, faces slack and feet dragging. Iris, however, stood alone, wondering what to do with herself as she watched her camp mates.
Jade's eyes glanced at Iris and she smiled. "Go join the group at the back, it will make an even number."
Iris didn't care who was in her group; she just wanted to get this over and done with. The idea of actually doing what she was told reminded her of school – and she had mistakenly thought those days were long gone.
"Klutz." A deep voice rumbled, jolting her awareness.
She swivelled on the heels of her feet to reveal the boy from earlier, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh. It's you."
"I'd expected more of an apology from earlier, actually, but I'll settle for that." He chuckled, his lips quirking into a smile.
Iris watched the boy curiously, frowning as he stared back at her. He was well built and easily approachable, but his expression held an air of ambiguity. Something told her that he was not as cheerful as he seemed. She analysed him: eyelashes that stroked the skin above his eyes, small freckles dotting on his nose. That was one of the characteristics that people seemed to admire about Iris: her ability to understand someone – to know when they're hiding something. She could often read people as easily as an open book, and the smirking boy who had taken sudden interest in her led Iris to believe that he wasn't as simple as he had wanted to be. In fact, far from it.
