I'm up ridiculously early this morning, just as I have been every morning of this week. Every bone in my body feels shattered, every muscle torn and every injury received by Maeve hurts, but I've been putting everything into training and working out. I'm not sure where the sudden bursts of motivation have sparked from, but I've decided I don't want to be seen as the runt of the litter anymore. I want to be strong and fearless so I never land in a sticky situation and find myself defenceless.

I have noticed quite an improvement. I already have a lot more stamina than I did at the start of the week and my stomach has already stiffened with muscle, reducing the food bumps I'd usually have after eating a large meal. The other's have come down to be surprised that I'm here in the basement yet again, and I've felt a fair few eyes watching me during the time I've spent down here. It's gotten to the point that Danielle or Zavier have had to step in before I knock myself out with exhaustion, but I've always found a way to keep myself going.

I stop hitting at the punching bag for a breather, wincing as I undo the handwraps to find my knuckles are busted and bruised. I'm sat on the floor for some time, catching my breath in between sips of chilled water. I'm exhausted, but it's barely past eleven in the morning. In one hour I'll grab myself some lunch, have a chat with Maeve or Enoch, who I've actually found to be a very decent guy, before coming back down here to get back to work.

At least, that should be the plan.

I stand back to my feet, ignoring the blood that rushes from my head and the black dots that swarm my vision. I'm about to move onto the treadmill when I hear echoed footsteps entering this part of the basement, and to my dismay, Blake walks into the area.

While everyone who comes down here as been watching me with pride or encouragement throughout the week, it's always been Blake who has been watching me with judgement. He's made it more than clear that he doesn't think I belong here, and I always see him chuckling at me in the corner of my eye when I slip up and get my technique wrong. It's very aggravating.

This time he stalks past me with a cigarette in his hand. I flicker my eyes away to coil my handwraps up, before my vision turns cloudy for a split second and my lungs fill with that overwhelming scent of nicotine. I glance back up with annoyance, seeing Blake's smirk after blowing the smoke in my direction. Gross. If there's one thing I don't like about the older members of this group, it's their smoking habits.

He ignores the middle finger I hold up to him and continues on his way to the shooting range.

I must've been running on the treadmill for around half an hour, barely needing to walk as much as I used to, before I think I've had enough. My energy is seriously wearing thin and I'll be puking in the nearest bin before I know it, not exactly something I'd want Blake, who is now doing weight-training with Jayden, to see and inevitably use against me. I take long gulps of my water, finishing the second bottle of this morning, and make my way up the stairs to raid the kitchen cupboards of all it's contents.

As I walk into the kitchen, I see Maeve, Chelsea and Danielle, who has baby Posie bundled in her arms while the three of them talk.

"You look beat," Maeve comments as they notice my entrance.

"I am," I say back, walking over to the fridge to fill my bottle with fresh water and opening the door to pick anything to eat.

"Have you really been down there every day this week?" Chelsea asks.

Before I can answer, Danielle chuckles. "You bet she has. Enoch had to catch her before she fainted the other day. She's been working hard."

"Damn, she's making me look bad," Chelsea smirks. "I didn't bother with all that when I first joined."

"That's because you were eight months pregnant," Maeve reassures. She then nods over to the table when she notices I haven't chosen any food yet, my damn indecisiveness making my stomach growl. "We got food delivered."

I perk up at the sound of that and go over to the table, seeing a large box of takeaway food on the surface I hadn't noticed when I walked in.

"Tuck in," Maeve says, and I do exactly that.

The four of us chat for a small while, talking about normal, everyday topics as if everything is fine in the world and we're four normal, young women. I've finished eating too much food and am holding a sleeping Posie in my arms when Maeve mentions something about showing me the 'wardrobes'.

"Wardrobes?" I ask, glancing up from marvelling at the baby's gorgeous features.

"We're planning on going to a nearby nightclub later tonight," Maeve explains. "I was thinking that, if you wanted to and you're not too broken, we could all get ready in the wardrobes and have some fun tonight."

"Who's going?" I ask, already liking the sound of letting my hair down for the night and actually living for once. I've never been to a proper party before, let alone a club.

"Everyone but me," Danielle says, taking a sip of coffee. "Unfortunately, being boss comes with duties, so it'll just be Posie and I hanging out while I get a shit-ton of work done."

I find it funny that I can picture Danielle sat in an office in a dressing gown with a fire going and Posie sleeping soundly beside her, while I could also see her in one of her revealing, sparkling dresses, shooting people in the head at masquerade ball she's decided to raid. Even in my short week here I can tell this woman has a hundred different sides to her.

"But how will me and Maeve get in? We're under eighteen."

"Fake ID's," Chelsea says simply as she lifts Posie out of my arms.

Maeve nods. "I was given one a few months back, Enoch makes them really quickly. As long as we put on enough makeup and wear the right clothes, they wont ask any questions."

Chelsea looks from Maeve to me. "So, you in?"

I smile and shrug, already thrilled for a night out and the chance to get to know everyone a bit more. "Sure."

Maeve squeals before rounding the table, grabbing my hand and hauling me out of the chair. I chuckle at her excitement as I follow her across the mansion to yet another door that needs a thumb-print access. I watch as she puts her thumb on the screen and smirk as her access is denied. However, it does work the second time, and she opens the door for me to step into the most extravagant wardrobe I've ever laid my eyes upon.

"Holy shit," I whisper in awe. Maeve watches in amusement as my hand glides across the racks of dresses and skirts in so many colours and shades and patterns. Then there's the shelves that hold what must be over a hundred pairs of shoes, some of which with heels so tall I would break my ankle within three seconds of having it on my foot. There are no windows in the room, but it's incredibly well-lit, with strips of LED lights around the ceilings and lighting up the items on the shelves.

"The makeup is all in the other wardrobe," Maeve tells me. I look over at her with wide eyes.

"Another wardrobe? How many are there?"

"Three for the girls and two for the boys," she says. "And that's not a sexism thing, it's just that Danielle wanted another one built because we keep going overboard whenever we go shopping, whereas the guys are happy to wear the same suit more than once."

I pull the hem of a dress out from where it's hanging on the rack. "And we get to choose whatever?"

Maeve shrugs. "Whatever fits is yours. And don't worry if it gets ruined or ripped, it can easily be replaced."

"Why would it get ripped?" I ask, but I'm distracted by the jewels sewn onto one dress that a girl might choose to wear to prom. Are they real diamonds?

"Many reasons..." Before I can ask what those reasons might be, Jayden steps through the door that we had left open.

"Afternoon, ladies," he greets, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets. "Need any help choosing something for tonight?"

I go to exchange an odd look with Maeve, but she doesn't even look surprised. "Maybe you should help Aurora, otherwise she'll be here all night wanting to try everything on."

She's not wrong.

Jayden makes his way over, gently taking the dress from my hands and scrunching up his face. "Not your colour."

I quirk up an eyebrow. "Oh, I didn't think you'd be such a fashionista."

"Oh, Sweetie, just watch," he winks.

We're trying on clothes for the next three hours. I remember when Mum would force me into doing this; making me try on pageant dresses at the age of six so that it could get tailored perfectly so that it could squeeze the life out of me. I would scream bloody Mary as all I wanted to do was go outside and chase my brothers around the garden or go to the park with Dad, but there wasn't any getting away from her.

But now it's so different. I don't think I've laughed this much in my life. We spent the first hour trying to put together the most ridiculous outfits, wearing large, floppy hats with sparkly, animal print dresses and some of the highest heels. Including Jayden, who actually manages to style it out probably better than Maeve or I as the colours work incredibly against his dark skin.

He's still wearing the cheetah print dress now while he gathers any dresses he think might suit me, Maeve looking for her own while I sit on a velvet love-seat in the centre of the room. With the revealing material of the dress I'm wearing, I can count the many bruises that litter my arms and legs, and I'm reaching up into the thirties. Most of them I can't even remember how I got them, even the pretty gnarly ones. Jayden's reassured me that some beige tights should do the trick at hiding them but I'm not convinced.

While I'm preoccupied with smoothing my finger over a large, purple one on my skin as if I could magically rub it off like it's a smudge of paint, Jayden stands in front of me. I glance up at him and a smile is quick to cross my face with the outfit he's holding up. It's a sequinned, pink cropped vest top with a tight, black skirt.

"That's perfect," Maeve says.

"It's something my mother would boil me alive for wearing."

"So?" Jayden smiles, shaking the outfit out to me.

"So, it's perfect."