I quickly unzip his bag and fumble with his pills. The top unscrews, and capsules scatter across the floor as the train abruptly slows. The momentum throws Cameron onto his side,and his eyes catch on the pills. He blinks hard a few times, looking at me, then back to them. The light has returned to him and he picks up four, shoving them into his mouth and swallowing. He lets himself fall to his back and lies there motionless.
The train consistently slows until we come to a complete stop. I remain where I am, breathing hard and watching Cameron until I’m sure he’s back to himself.
My legs tremble as I carefully redress. After I gather more courage, I peek over his chest until our eyes catch.
A wry smile spreads over his lips. “That was a close call, wasn’t it?” he jokes, but it’s anything but funny.
“You were about to kill me with your dick still out.” I throw his clothes as hard as I can at his chest. He catches them with a low, rumbling laugh.
“That would’ve been something.” His humorous tone doesn’t have the same carelessness to it that it usually does.
I’m just relieved that I don’t have to fear for my life for the time being. “Get dressed. We’re at the checkpoint, I think.”
“Yes ma’am,” Cameron says jovially. His small grin doesn’t reach his eyes, though. I try not to focus on it. He probably hates that he can’t control himself, and I won’t accomplish anything by making him feel bad about it.
I turn my attention to the window and stare out at the vast, white nothingness of our location.
As expected, we’re let out of the train last and hurried to the only remaining truck. It’s an old tactical vehicle, of all things. It looks so misplaced in this snow world. Nothing is in the vicinity besides the train and a small shed-like building that must be their station for the conductor to rest.
Four armed soldiers drive us the remainder of the way. We travel slowly once we reach higher elevation and the truck has to move through a foot of snow. The roads are unplowed, but thetire tracks from the other trucks blazed a decent trail. The driver and Cameron chat casually off and on while I doze off a few times on Cam’s shoulder.
It’s not too long of a drive, lasting around three hours.
When we finally see the wall of the forest, the moon is already at the center of the sky. Wolves howl in the distance, and the air is so cold that it stings my nostrils.
We’re in the middle of nowhere.
The other trucks are mostly unloaded as we hop out of the vehicle. Our tactical gear does little against the frigid temperatures stealing the air from my lungs and burning my eyes. I search for Bree and Damian, but don’t see them anywhere in the crowd. I wouldn’t exactly say they’re our enemies, which means it might be worthwhile keeping them in sight. My interaction with Bree last night gives me a sliver of hope.
“You two can join the others. We’re about to begin,” Drill Sergeant Adams says as he walks up beside the soldiers that drove us here.
Cameron throws him a lazy thumbs-up before steering us toward the group. I follow hesitantly, eyeing Cameron’s bag and praying that he remembered to grab his pills from the train. He didn’t take any while on the drive, and I have no clue how long it takes for him to snap like he did. I’m not sure if they even help or make it worse, but they certainly get his attention when he loses his mind.
He notices me walking a few steps behind him. “Come on, we gotta stick together,” Cameron says casually as he leans down and grabs my hand. I lower my chin so I don’t have to see all the looks we’re getting. Envy. They think I’m being protected by him.If only they saw him trying to kill me on the way here.
“Do you have to make this worse? They already hate us,” I whisper as I pull my hand from his.
Cameron only smirks as we stand at the edge of the group. His icy blond hair flickers with the breeze. I realize I haven’t seen his hair in moonlight before. It’s alluring and makes every sharp feature on his cheeks and nose more lovely. The moon is deceitful in the way it makes him look harmless.
Focus, I remind myself.
I spot Bree and Damian standing close to the center of the group. She was kind to me last night, but I still don’t know if I can trust her. I especially don’t trust Damian. But they’re the only people who I have remotely any relationship with. My attention returns to the drill sergeant as he steps up onto a small hill at the head of the group.
“Attention, Cadets. The first trial will begin shortly. You’re going to make your way down to the cellar off to the left, where you will be given gear, food, implants, and masks. I’ll explain the remaining portion of the trial once you’re processed through and out on the other side.”
Everyone stays frozen for a beat. No one wants to be the first to go down into thecellar. I certainly don’t.
The ground leading into it is steep and descends into a bunker of some sort. It’s so well hidden that it makes my skin crawl. My father had places like this installed in his hideouts. He placed them all over the world just in case he needed to do business in a certain location. Did my father build this for them? I wouldn’t doubt it. The layout looks similar to his work. If he did build it, then does he know about the Dark Forces? My throat bobs uncomfortably at the thought.
A few of the men who look closer to their thirties take the lead, walking at a steady pace with their chests puffed out. Of course, at the head of the group are Arnold and Wraith.
Everyone stays a good distance behind them, reminding me of how they killed a cadet in the bathrooms during the second week I was in the Under. It wasn’t even a big deal, no onereacted. The guards just had the body removed like nothing happened.
They’re going to be a pain in the ass to fight if we run into them. Well, more likewhenwe run into them because I know they’re going to try to find us one way or another.
We funnel into the bunker, which is essentially a huge underground room. My legs feel like lead, reluctant to step even one more foot into the cellar, but the cadets behind me keep nudging me along.
Cameron glances down at me with a raised brow. “What’s wrong?”
