Author: Sophie Jordan

“You’ll run together, sweat together, bleed together,” the guards yell from the back of ATVs. “Out there, your gender doesn’t matter! It’s not going to matter in here.”

Even though I’m not the slowest, I’m the slowest girl. Four boys trail me. One looks like he’s never missed a Twinkie a day in his life, so that is rather lowering. And worrisome. Especially when during one of my first runs, I see a guard with a stopwatch frown and jot down my time on a clipboard.

I have to be better. Each day this is my sole thought as my feet pound over the ground. Except I’m convinced my legs will give out any moment and I’ll fall flat on my face to be trampled by the boys behind me.

I push past pain. Past the stitches pinching my side.

Saliva floods my mouth one morning as I catch myself from falling. Staggering, I keep on and suddenly notice I’m not running alone anymore. Someone keeps an even pace next to me.

“C’mon. Speed up.”

Gasping, lungs burning, I turn my head. Sean runs beside me, his arms swinging lightly, his strides smooth and easy like we haven’t been running for an eternity. Of course this would be easy for him.

I huff at the sweaty hair falling in my face. “Just let me die.”

He gives a short laugh. “You’re not going to die.”

“Yes. I. Am.” I pant each word, marveling at how he can talk like he’s strolling in the park and not fighting for every breath. It infuriates me and gives me the strength to push my legs harder.

“Not today.” There’s something in his voice that draws my attention. A grimness that carries over the sound of my pants and the pound of feet around us. A quick glance at his face reveals Sean focused straight ahead, his stare fixed on Sabine. Her delicate face is still bruised and swollen, her lip scabbed up. His gaze slides to Addy. The stocky girl hasn’t hurt anyone else. No one has. There haven’t been any altercations . . . not since the guards used that electric prod on Addy. Word got around about that.

His gaze flicks to me and he speaks in a low voice. “You need to watch your back in here. The guards can’t keep us all in line. Not all the time. Some of these kids . . .” His voice fades, but I understand.

I look ahead, scanning the few dozen backs running ahead of me. All of them carriers. Some of them must be violent at their core. The threat of electric prods and the promise of a future won’t be enough to stop any true killer.

I start running harder, pushing past the burn, ignoring the tremble in my legs, the lungs that ache, determined not to be weak. To become faster, stronger. No one’s victim.

I don’t look to see if Sean keeps up behind me, but I sense him there. As I move ahead, I feel multiple sets of eyes on me, calculating, sizing me up. I don’t back down, don’t slow my pace, too aware that if I do they’ll remember that I can’t perform.

The only thing I need for them to remember is that I’m not weak. Not a target.

The following morning we’re led into the refectory after our first run. We fall on our breakfast like wolves. As usual. We’re always famished. It’s a constant state of being. My stomach rolls at the generous fare spread before us. Eggs and bacon. Toast, muffins, biscuits, waffles the size of encyclopedias. Clearly, they don’t intend to starve us.

I hardly chew before swallowing a mouthful. Still, I’m cautious not to overeat. I don’t want to be too stuffed. We have another run and more grueling activity ahead. You eat too much and then you’re left puking up your guts.

A tray loaded with food slams down in front of me. A massive, thick-necked boy sinks down across from me. His plastic chair creaks in protest. Sabine tenses beside me. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s always there, a shadow beside me. She especially doesn’t talk with Gil and Sean, eyeing them with distrust, but her presence has become reassuring. One of the few things I can count on.

“That all you’re gonna eat?” The guy nods at my plate of eggs and toast.

I take another bite of toast and shrug. Sabine has even less food on her plate, but he doesn’t comment on that.

“Saw you running. My name is Tully.” He fixes his gaze on me alone even though Gil and Sabine sit on either side of me. I haven’t seen Sean since our run. He’s probably still in line getting food.

Gil takes a loud sip from his coffee mug, his way of insinuating himself. I slide him a quick look before answering. “I’m Davy. This is Gil and Sabine.”

He looks Gil and Sabine over quickly. Dismissing them, he looks back at me. “Where you from, Davy?”

“Texas.”

He nods as he folds a slice of bacon into his mouth. “I’m from Oklahoma.”

I’ve noticed Tully before, but this is the first time he’s approached me. He’s one of the bigger boys here. From his size, I would guess he’s a jock, but I know better than to assume anything about anyone. I wonder what special skill landed him in here and not a detention camp.

“Good food,” Tully remarks as he chomps on another slice of bacon. “I lived with my grandmother before this. She couldn’t even boil water. Most of my food came out of a vending machine. When they expelled me from school, I was stuck out in the country with her. Nearly starved.”

I eye his immense body, thinking there is little evidence to support that.

Tully suddenly waves his fork in the air. “Hey, Jackson! Over here!” He motions another boy to our table. My heart rate picks up at the arrival of the second boy. I can’t help myself. I should be used to the idea that carriers surround me at every side. I’m a carrier, too.

Still, I scan the room for Sean. That first glimpse of him intimidated me. Hopefully, he has the same effect on others.

“Hey.” Jackson lowers himself into the seat next to Tully. When his gaze lands on me, a wide smile stretches his lips. He’s handsome in a slick kind of way. Nothing about him screams killer except the imprint on his neck. “Trust old Tully here to make friends with two of the only girls around.” His gaze narrows on me. “One of the prettiest, too.”

I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. Do I look like someone to be sucked in by empty compliments?

He didn’t miss the eye-rolling. His smile slips. “Nice collar. Ink looks fresh. I’ve had mine three years. What’d you do to get that?” A hardness enters his voice and it’s like he opened a window for me to glimpse inside him and see what really lurks there.

“Nothing.”

Which is true. But I know he won’t believe me. He would never believe me guiltless of doing something violent and ugly. Because that’s what he is . . . what he does. I know it. See it in the dead eyes. He’s everything the world fears and rightly so.

“I’m sure,” he echoes.

“What would I do?” I shrug and force a teasing grin. “I’m just a girl.”

“That’s right.” Tully grins idiotically. “You’re here for us.”

My grin evaporates.

“That’s not true,” Gil cuts in.

Tully frowns at him. “You don’t think the girls are expected to be trained to be anything special. . . .”

I start to get annoyed. “Why not?”

“Dude,” Tully laughs. “We’re going to be superspies and assassins . . . like James Bond and crap. You girls are just here to keep us entertained.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and I want to slap him.

“You’re wrong,” I say quietly. “Each one of us was selected . . . although why you got picked is beyond me. You’re clearly not here for your IQ.”

Sabine inhales sharply.

Tully’s face flushes. “Aren’t you a lippy bitch?”

Gil tenses beside me, and it’s like we’re back in the Cage again with Nathan giving me a hard time. Gil’s going to get himself hit again if he doesn’t tread carefully. I place a hand on his arm under the table, cautioning him.

Jackson very deliberately clears his throat, drawing my attention. His fingers touch his neck. “Want to know what I did?”

“No.”

He smiles and continues anyway. “There was a little girl who lived on my street—”

“Stop,” I say, sensing where this story was going, but he keeps talking anyway.

“She was maybe nine, ten . . . she had this tabby cat. She loved that cat. It would actually let her push it around in this stupid doll stroller.”

Sabine starts scraping the inside of her yogurt cup faster like she’s desperate to do something with her hands—or just cover the sound of his voice.

“I caught that cat.” Jackson’s eyes hold mine. They’re dead, emotionless. His fingers toy with his fork, rotating it where it rests on his tray. “I cut it open.” His head cocks to the side. “Just to see what it looks like inside. I still wonder about the blood, the organs . . . how they compare to human blood. “

How they compare. As though it’s a certainty he will find this out for himself.

Jackson laughs then, low and deep, his gaze scanning the three of us. “Oh, you should see your faces.”

“Is that a joke?” I ask, suddenly not sure.

He stops laughing, but the amusement still lingers in his light-colored eyes. “I’m going to enjoy you.”

A chill skates my spine. Tully’s announcement that girls are only here for entertainment echoes through me. I won’t be entertainment for anyone here.

Gil clears his throat and, even though I warned him not to, I know he’s going to speak up, stick up for me like he did in the Cage. I can’t let him do that. This cage is bigger . . . with more predators in it.

“I doubt that,” I say before Gil finds his voice. I stare at Jackson, returning his snake-oil smile with one of my own. “I’m really not very likable.”

“No argument there.” Tully folds another slice of bacon into his mouth, evidently still smarting over my insult.

“But I like you so far.” Jackson sips from his glass of orange juice. “I think we’re going to be friends. It’s just a feeling.” His gaze skips to Sabine. “Maybe your quiet little friend here, too.”

Sabine lowers her yogurt cup to her tray, and I can’t help noticing how much her slender hand shakes. I hope Jackson doesn’t catch it. A guy like him will pounce on the first sign of weakness.

“What’s your name?” he asks her mildly. “Bet you’re pretty when your face isn’t so banged up.”

“Sabine,” she answers softly, ducking her head. Her hair falls in a brown curtain, shadowing her face. I look from her to him, concern for the smaller girl surging inside me. He glances at me, a disturbing smile curving his lips and I know he knows. He reads me easily, knows that I feel protective toward her.

I once saw a show on a nature channel about portia spiders. They’re one of the world’s top predators. Spiders generally are, but this spider . . . this particular one is the most dangerous of all because it actually targets other spiders, cleverly tricking them. It identifies each individual spider’s weakness and then implements the best method to attack the prey it hunts. Yeah, they’re that smart and diabolical. They’re him. Jackson. I know it instinctively. Hopefully, that makes me decidedly unlike the spiders that get tricked and devoured.

He refocuses on Sabine and clucks his tongue. “That lip looks like it hurts,” he murmurs in a deceptively sympathetic voice.

Sabine touches the deep crack in her lip self-consciously.

“Aren’t you Captain Obvious?” I snap, deliberately drawing his attention back to me.

He studies me, that smile still there. “We should all be friends. Hang out tonight during communal time. I bet I could make you both like me,” he adds with a wink.

It’s his choice of words—the “make you” part that leaves me slightly queasy.