Author: Sophie Jordan

“No,” I announce grimly.

Jackson’s smile thins but doesn’t evaporate entirely. “Are you going to fight me on this, Davy?” His gaze slides over me. “That could be fun.”

“Yeah,” Addy seconds. Even in this lighting, the pit marks and acne on her face stand out starkly. “That could be real fun.”

My breath falls faster, chest rising with anger. Heat creeps over my face as I stare at the shadowy faces of Jackson and Addy. They’re the same, I realize. Cut from the same cloth. They both think they can do whatever they want—to whomever they want. “We caught him.”

“And I’m taking him.”

Jackson steps past me, reaching for the rope. Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I press the knife against his neck, just below his ear. It’s a reflex. Like the way your leg jumps when your knee is hit just so. Even though it feels as natural as breathing, shock ripples along my every nerve that this is me. That I’m the one holding a knife to someone’s neck.

He freezes even as Addy and the other two boys surge forward. I press the tip deeper.

“Stop,” he bites out at them.

I flick them all a glance, satisfied none look ready to ignore his command.

Without turning to look at me, Jackson asks softly, “What are you doing, Davy?”

“Taking what’s ours.”

“You won’t. You don’t have the nerve—”

And maybe he’s right, but I say, “Want to test me? It’s only your throat.”

“You’ll regret this,” he growls, neck stretched tight against the prick of my knife. But he doesn’t call my bluff. He doesn’t doubt me. And I guess no one would. No one does. Not here. Not among carriers.

Angling my head, I look back at the other three, my gaze lingering the longest on Addy, sensing she’s the most dangerous. “Sit down. On the ground. All of you,” I bark, making certain my voice rings with force.

They lower to the ground. I look at Richard. “Tie them up.”

Eager to comply, he jumps to the task, smiling gleefully. “Make sure you bind them tight. I don’t want them getting free.”

I look at Felix. He stares at me with wide eyes. I jerk my head at Jackson. “Him, too.”

Nodding, Felix steps forward.

“You’ll regret this,” Addy snarls as her thick arms are bound.

“Make it tight,” I instruct, ignoring her. “Don’t want him getting loose.”

Once Felix ties his hands with the rope, I ease the tip of the knife off his neck.

Jackson’s eyes gleam at me in the gloom. “You’re so smart,” he murmurs as Felix forces him to the ground and starts tying his legs. “Right now, you’ve won. But what are you going to do when I’m free?”

I squat down and tap the knife to his nose. Maybe I shouldn’t toy with him, but it feels so good to have the upper hand, even as his eyes flash murder. “I’m not worried about that.” Not the truth entirely. But since I got to this place, all I’ve done is worry. I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since Pollock showed up at my house. It’s nothing new. Just another layer to my anxiety. To the constant fear. “I can take care of myself.” I smile and eye his ropes. “Clearly.”

He doesn’t even wear the phony smile. It’s like that has been cast aside for good. His lip curls over his teeth. “You won’t see me coming.”

A chill flutters across my skin in the warm night. “We’re not supposed to harm each other, remember? This is a training exercise. My behavior will be forgiven, but you come after me in the dark some night . . .” I tsk and shake my head at him. “I don’t think you want to get kicked out of here. Sent to a detention camp. Or worse.”

That smile returns, slow and easy and hateful. I want to slap it off his face.

“It might be worth it. To watch you bleed . . .”

My throat thickens and the prickles are back, breaking out all over my skin. Thankfully, it’s too dark for him to see me clearly. If my face is splotchy and red he can’t tell. No way for him to know that he’s getting to me.

“Come on,” Richard urges, clutching the rope attached to our prisoner.

Snapping from his gaze, Felix takes the lead in front of Richard. Leaving Jackson and his teammates behind, I bring up the rear. No one else stumbles upon us, and we manage to make it back to the main grounds without further incident. Just as we clear the trees, our captive decides to put forth one more effort. He yanks hard on the rope, surprising Richard with a kick to the chest. The boy hits the ground. The target spins and lunges away, but I’m on him, tackling him to the earth.

He grunts and starts talking, his words all a hot mash of sound.

“Come on!” Richard grabs his rope and yanks him to his feet.

Felix offers me his hand. “Let’s finish this.”

Nodding, I accept his hand and rise. When the guards and instructors see us approach, they sound the bell, signaling the end of the game.

We deliver the captive to the waiting guards and watch as the rest of the carriers trickle back toward the main building, many grumbling and scowling. I can’t help but stand proudly, my shoulders pulled back. Tully and the rest of our team joins us, beaming and nodding in approval. Looking at me differently. With respect. After yesterday, this win is significant for me. I’ve proven myself.

I spot Sean and Gil. I breathe easier at the sight of them unharmed. Until that moment, I didn’t realize fear for them had lurked in the back of my mind. Cut loose in the woods with fifty armed carriers, anything could have gone wrong.

Sean’s eyes find me. He grins then, his lips curving in one of his rare smiles. Relief lights his eyes. He’d been worried. For me. Smiling back, I nod at the target, indicating that my team brought him in.

His eyes widen, understanding my meaning. He shoots me a thumbs-up, impressed. I blow on my fingers and brush them against my shoulder.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, mouthing at me: show-off.

I giggle. Richard looks at me strangely and I instantly sober, facing forward again as the guards take a head count and recount. And recount again. One of them turns to Harris and calls out, “We’re four short.”

“Well, what are you staring at me for? Go find them,” Harris barks.

Felix, Richard, and I swap uncertain looks.

Felix clears his throat. “You’ll find them that way.” He points west.

Harris narrows his gaze on the three of us even as he addresses the guards. “Go. Fetch them.”

We wait in silence for the guards’ return. Harris watches us as though we might make a sudden bolt for it.

Jackson, Addy, and their other two teammates walk ahead of the guards into the quad. One of the guards holds up severed rope for Harris to see. “They were tied up.”

“But otherwise unharmed, I see.” Harris looks back at us questioningly. After a stretch of silence, it becomes clear he expects an explanation.

I lift my chin. “They tried to take the target from us.”

“And you weren’t going to let that happen?”

“No, sir.” I clasp my hands behind my back. “We did what we had to in order to complete the drill.”

“What’s your name?” He glances at Dusty rather than me for a response.

“Davina Hamilton,” she supplies.

“Good job, Hamilton.” His gaze flicks over my entire team that now surrounds me, adding, “Good job, green team.”

Harris’s eyes widen at something behind me.

Curious, I turn, glimpsing the blur of a swinging fist and jerk out of the way. Jackson’s knuckles just graze my jaw. Pain radiates throughout my face, and I stumble back. Felix and Richard catch me, steadying me with their hands.

Looking up, I see Jackson still coming at me. The deceptively friendly mask he always wears is ripped free. In its place is simple hate. Hate for me. Clearly, I pushed him past the point of self-preservation.

I scurry back, but he’s headed for me like a charging bull. There’s no breaking him from his course. Richard steps in his path, but Jackson knocks the smaller boy out of the way. Just as he’s about to reach me, Sean cuts across my line of vision in a streak of movement. His body plows into him.

They twist and writhe on the ground. Sean gains the upper hand, pinning Jackson beneath him. The cracking sound of bone on bone reverberates on the air as Sean’s fists connect with Jackson’s face.

I shake my head. Not again.

Guards arrive, their hands seizing Sean by the shoulders and arms, pulling him back. I step forward and press one hand to his chest, trying to ease the tension radiating from him. It’s like he doesn’t see me. His eyes fix on Jackson with blood-hungry intensity.

“Sean,” I hiss, shooting a quick glance over my shoulder at Harris, watching us like specimens under a microscope.

“Enough!” Harris shouts, pushing his way closer, his boots thudding over the ground. He looks from Jackson, bending over and spitting blood onto the ground—and what looks like a tooth—then back to Sean. As far as I can tell, there’s not a scratch on Sean, but his face is wild, flushed red in fury. He’d like another go at Jackson. “The drill is over, I won’t stand for any more fighting in the ranks. Understood?”

Jackson looks up, wiping a hand against his nose, leaving a dark streak of crimson against his face. He nods. Harris then looks at Sean. Sean grunts and offers up a nod as well.

Harris stares at Sean for a long moment as though he doesn’t quite believe him. My fists curl at my sides, fearful that he will decide to punish Sean in some way. Like by sending him away from here.

“What’s gotten into you, O’Rourke?” Harris demands.

Sean pulls back his shoulders, panting hard, saying nothing.

“They’re from the same town,” Dusty volunteers, motioning to me. Of course, she knows that. I’m sure Stiles included that in my file.

“Ah. Loyalty I admire, but I expect discipline.” Harris looks back and forth between Sean and me, before narrowing his eyes on Sean, considering him in a way that is impossible to read. “And those who can follow rules.”

Sean’s own expression reveals nothing. “Understood,” he finally says. He understands, but I can’t help noting that he didn’t promise to obey.

For a long moment, Harris and Sean stare at each other, the silence cloying and thick.

Nodding slowly, Harris turns his attention on me, studying me for a long moment. “Davina Hamilton. I won’t be forgetting that name.”

From Dr. Wainwright upon Commander Harris’s appointment to director of operations at Mount Haven:

This camp serves one function, Harris. To teach killers how to obey and serve this country. If they can’t be trained, they can’t be kept around. Never forget that.

TWENTY-SEVEN

SWIVELING ON HIS HEELS, HARRIS RESUMES HIS place at the front of the group. From the corner of my eye, I mark Jackson’s progress back to his team. Sean remains near me. Forty-eight of us stand, waiting as Harris stares out at us, assessing. I fidget impatiently, anxious to be released back to our rooms before anything else happens. Suddenly, the day feels endless.

“You are all here to prove that you are worth something. That you deserve a future with freedoms and privileges.” His voice rings out over the pulsing night, floating across the stagnant air. “That you can be trusted, that you’re better than your scum brethren in the detention camps. Carriers like him.” He points to the target we captured.

My eyes widen. He’s not a volunteer then? He’s from a detention camp.

A guard shoves the man forward. He stumbles, catching himself. It’s a wonder he doesn’t fall. He’s still bound with rope.

“This man has attempted several escapes from a camp in Colorado. He incited his fellow carriers into attacking and killing two guards in order to provide a distraction for his third escape attempt.”