Author: Sophie Jordan

My feet pound the earth. Sweat trickles down my spine. I breathe through my nose as I follow the winding jogging trail. I push myself until my lungs start to ache, welcoming the punishing pain, deserving it.

Sean lies in wait at the water fountain stationed in front of the gym. It’s my second pass in front of the gym on my run. I’ve been jogging with a half dozen others through the dirt path snaking through the buildings and looping around the woods. I’m sure there are kids in front of me and in back, but I’ve been solo for a while now. Sometimes, Sabine keeps me company, even though she’s a lot faster than me, but she’s nowhere around today.

“Hey,” he calls.

Immediately, my face burns, thinking about all the kissing we did last night. I pause for a quick drink at the fountain, wiping at the icy water dribbling down my chin, gathering my composure. “Hey.” I bend down for another drink. It’s hot and I’m thirsty, but I’m also desperate to look casual in his presence. I can’t just stand and gawk at him with my heart in my eyes.

“Give any thought to what we talked about?” He stares at me, his eyes intent, pinning me where I stand.

I swallow, my throat now cold from the water. “I don’t know. . . .”

He glances left and right before looking back at me and leaning closer. “You can’t want to stay here.”

Staring at his face, at that earnest gaze, I want nothing more than to go with him. I want to believe there could be something better out there for us. For a killer like me. A place I could go with him and be safe. A place where the world is safe from me, too. The thing is . . . I can’t imagine that place really exists.

“Sean, I . . .” My voice falters and I step back, putting more space between us. My gaze dips, and I get distracted looking at his mouth, remembering the taste of it. The shape and pressure of it against mine. Maybe that’s why he kissed me. To addle my thinking and get me to go with him.

Shaking off the thought, I snap my attention back to his eyes. “I can’t do this right now. I’m supposed to be running.” I step around him.

“Tonight then?” He grabs my wrist, stalling me. “We’ll talk then.”

I look down at the long, tan fingers wrapped around my wrist. His voice curls around me, too. Just as enticing. And I don’t deserve that. I shouldn’t feel anything good after what I did yesterday. “I can find you after dinner.”

His hand reaches for me like he’s going to touch me. My breath hitches. With a quick glance around, remembering himself and where we are, he drops his hand back to his side. The air deflates from my chest, and I know then how much I wanted to feel his hand on my face. It’s the only thing—he is the only thing—that eclipses the horror of yesterday for me.

Sadly, wrongly, I do want to see him again. I want him to come to my room, but not to talk about his crazy plan. I want to forget about that and just be with him again. Like before but more. More of his lips. More of his hands . . . his warm skin against mine. I want to hold his face and look into his eyes and see compassion and caring and empathy . . . all the things I haven’t seen, haven’t felt in far too long a time. Those things that remind me I’m a human and not just the killer I’ve become.

Edging away, I say, against my better judgment, “Yes. Come.”

His lips stretch in a slow smile.

I’ll explain my position to him then. That it’s too risky. How far can we get with imprints on our necks? My best chance is to stay here until I’ve earned the right for them to remove my imprint. Then I can slip away.

I set out again, the image of his smiling face etched in my mind.

But it’s not long before yesterday returns to haunt me. Shame sinks its teeth into me. I pump my arms harder. I wish I’d said no. Seeing him again, being with him, tasting his kiss . . . I don’t deserve that.

My feet pound the trail, legs working fluidly. I’m so busy with my thoughts that I don’t even feel the ache in my body anymore. Running has just become automatic, the simple repeat of my steps as I wonder at the man I killed—who was he before the Agency showed up to drag him away? Did anyone mourn him? Would they even know he died?

I catch a blur of movement to my left and think it’s another runner joining me on the trail. It’s only a split second thought though. It flees the instant a body rams into my side like a vehicle butting another one off the track.

Caught off balance, I fall onto my side. Hard. My shoulder throbs. Wincing, I roll onto my back, wondering if I might have dislocated it. I don’t make it to my feet. I don’t have time to examine my shoulder. I don’t have time for anything.

Someone grabs my ankles and drags me off the trail and deeper into the woods. I open my mouth to scream, but another body is suddenly there. He slides his arms beneath my armpits, slamming one hand over my mouth. I’m mute. I bite down on salty fingers and am rewarded with a sharp cuff to the ear.

My vision blurs, graying for a moment. Dizziness swamps me. The world jerks and heaves as I’m carried. I blink, fighting past the light-headedness.

We squeeze through thick brush. Branches and leaves scratch at my arms. Suddenly, I’m unceremoniously dropped to the ground. I take the brunt of the fall on my hip and I cry out, certain a bruise will form there within an hour.

Swallowing my wince, I look up. Jackson stands over me, and I know true fear. Two boys I don’t know hover behind him—I’ve seen them, of course, but don’t remember their names. I’ve never spoken to them. Jackson probably appealed to their interests . . . torture, sadism. I don’t have to have done anything personally to them to make them want to hurt me. They’re carriers. There doesn’t have to be a reason for them to inflict pain on others.

Everything in me tenses, ready and alert for the first chance to break away.

I eye the three of them, trying to assess them. Jackson is fast. I’ve seen him sprint. I doubt I can get away from him, especially after already running for nearly an hour now. He’ll be on me in a flash. The lanky one beside Jackson doesn’t look necessarily intimidating. The third one is thickset, reminds me of Tully. He’s one of the few I outrun in the mornings.

Still, there are three of them. And one of me.

“That was easy enough,” the stocky one pants, his face glistening with sweat. Yeah. I could definitely outrun him.

“Not so tough now, huh?” Jackson rests his hands on his narrow hips and leans closer. “Where’s your boyfriend? He hardly ever lets you out of his sight.” Jackson smiles slowly. “It’s just us now.”

I swallow. My gaze flicks to each of them. I feel like prey crouching beneath them. Any moment, they’ll pounce and devour me. Simply because they can. It’s what predators do. Hunt and destroy.

“You think you’ll get away with this?” I ask.

“Who’s gonna find out it was us?” Jackson smiles. “And if they do, so what? The weak don’t make it in here.”

“Yeah.” The lanky one nods in agreement. “Like Tully. He’s out of here.”

“What are you talking about? He was here yesterday—”

“They came for him last night thanks to you and your boyfriend.” Jackson looks annoyed about this for a moment, but then he smiles again. “After we’re done with you, they’ll ship you out, too. Assuming there’s anything left of you.”

My stomach sinks. He’s right. If they don’t kill me right now, I’m gone from here.

Gone from Sean.

This realization hits me hard. I don’t want to lose Sean. To never see him again . . . It’s worse than the fear of ending up in a detention camp. It’s almost as bad as I felt when I pulled that trigger on the carrier. I shiver and Jackson’s smile deepens. I hate that he sees this weakness in me. That he’s getting to me. That I’m terrified.

I scan the crowd of trees, the thick brown-and-green tangle of brush, the outline of mountains rising in the distance. The foliage will only muffle my screams.

We move simultaneously. Jackson starts for me as I bolt. I take off. Laughter rings in my ears as he catches me and lifts me off my feet, his arms steel bands around me, trapping my arms.

He hugs me tightly, crushing me, squeezing my ribs and pushing the air from my lungs. A strangled cry escapes me.

“That’s right,” he goads. I feel his face nod alongside of mine, his hair brushing my cheek. “Scream.”

And that’s when I know it excites him. He gets off on my fear. My pain.

I arch my neck, straining from him. My gaze sweeps the sky. Leaves sway above. The two other guys call out encouragement.

I lower my head and bring it back up. I don’t make contact with his nose, but I hit him, knock him somewhere around the eye. He howls and his arms loosen around me. I drop, stagger to my feet, my hands briefly scraping the ground.

I don’t wait. I don’t look back. My feet pound the leaf-draped ground. I dodge limbs, bushes, trees. I run wildly, zigzagging. I’ve lost sense of my location, but I’m convinced I’ll hit the joggers’ trail or one of the buildings soon. The instructors aren’t going to let them brutalize me right out in the open. I just have to make it out of the woods.

The things they could do to me if they catch me race through my panicked thoughts. I run, keep moving, thrashing through the woods. Instinct drives me.

“Davy,” one of them calls nearby in a singsong voice.

I stop, drop low to the ground and freeze, every muscle in me locking tight. I listen, heart hammering a loud tempo in my ears. Crouched, I inch back, away from the sound of the voice. I don’t think to watch behind me.

One of the guys, the stocky one, shouts gleefully as his hands come down on my shoulders. “I got her! I got her! Jackson! Over here!”

I whirl, at least relieved it’s not Jackson. He’s more formidable to me. More dangerous.

Twisting around, I face the boy holding me. “What about when Jackson turns on you? When he decides to use you for a punching bag? Remember what he said? There will only be a few left standing at the end of this.”

“Yeah. And I’ll be one of them.”

“If he’s picking off the weaker, you look like a good target.”

“Shut up!” He shakes me.

I kick him hard in his shin and slam my heel down on top of his foot, grinding deep.

He cries out, releasing me. I’m up and running again.

Only I don’t make it three strides before I’m caught in the face with the sharp crack of a branch.

I fall on my back, my skull throbbing from the hard collision. My face stings. I gingerly touch my nose, my cheek, fingers roaming, testing, brushing over my lips. Wetness coats my fingers. My bottom lip is split and bleeding profusely.

Jackson stands over me, a long branch in his hand. He slaps it against his other palm. “Oh, man. That looks like it hurts.” He points to his puffy eye. I guess I did that. “This doesn’t feel too hot, either, bitch.”

I lower my hand from my mouth, mumbling, “Now we’re even.”

“Oh, this isn’t about what’s fair. It’s about fun. My fun.” He cocks his head. “At your expense. Sorry.”

Of course, he’s not sorry. I see that in his gaze, in the hard, brittle eyes. My pain, my fear, thrills him.

He crouches in front of me. I draw back, watching him survey me consideringly, his gaze lingering on my bare legs. He’s still slapping that branch in his open palm. By now the other two guys have arrived, breathless, behind him.

When he brings the branch down on my thighs I’m almost expecting it. I flinch. A hiss of pain escapes through my teeth.

He lifts his arm and lets the branch fly again. Pain rips across my flesh. My leg shoots out reflexively. I kick him in the jaw, sending him flying backward.

I scramble to my feet and run.