Cameron lifts a shoulder and lets his eyes find mine. A flicker of an apology flashes over them before he looks down at the cold cup of coffee. He brushes his finger over the edge of the mug. “Usually in the second round we get rifles and handguns, but it changes every year, so don’t get your hopes up.”
Our table becomes quiet, but after a few minutes Drill Sergeant Adams addresses the entire room. Dread follows this guy everywhere despite his wicked grin; all he ever has is bad news to share.
“Attention, Cadets. With only fifty of you remaining and no trackers detonated to enforce the finale of the first trial, we’re allowing you to select your teams for the second trial. You will need five members per squad. If I were you, I’d select them wisely, because in this trial only four teams will reach the end. No squadmate left behind. That means that every cadet on your squad must cross the line with you, dead or alive. But all must be present in one way or another, or your team will be terminated.” His voice booms through the cafeteria. Only the sound of forks being set down and a few horrified gags disturb the silence among the cadets.
So they tore apart the goodwill and truces cadets had together in the first round, and now they expect us to put them back together? Cruel.
Adams grins maliciously. “Weapons will be handed out five minutes to midnight on sight. Have your squad organized and ready by then.” He steps down from the table and is trailed by a few of his right-hand soldiers as he leaves the room.
I bring my attention back to our table.
Damian stutters, “So that’s it? If one person dies, then the whole squad?—”
Cameron puts his hand up to his neck and makes an explosion motion with his hand. “Goners, but onlyifyou don’t drag their dead body with you to the checkpoint,” he replies mundanely.
Bree’s face has gone pale, and Damian seems speechless for once. The rest of the cadets must be on the same page because it’s quiet for several seconds before mayhem breaks loose.
The majority of people are trying to get their alliances tied down after they were brutally abolished yesterday. It’s not surprising that Arnold and Wraith get the most people begging to join them. They lost some of their buddies in our ambush yesterday, but they still have a strong group that can easily be split into two with added members.
Wraith’s eyes are focused on Cameron. A scathing darkness curls through that man’s gaze. Vengeance or maybe pride. Arnold seems less upset and more power hungry, satiated with the people at his feet.
A knot forms in my throat as Wraith gets up and walks toward us, ignoring all the cadets trying to speak with him. Bree inhales sharply and sinks into her seat. I straighten my shoulders and firm my fists beneath the table.
Cameron smirks as Wraith takes a seat next to him. The two of them side-by-side look like gladiators among commoners.Their shoulders are wide, and muscles feather through their jaws as they measure one another.
“You and the runt should join our squad,” Wraith says confidently, his eyes flicking to me as an afterthought. I level him a glare that is easily dismissed. Does he seriously think that we’d partner with them after everything he’s done? Not to mention the combat knife he lodged in Cameron’s back?
Asshole.
Cameron puts his foot up on the lip of the chair between Wraith’s legs and kicks it over. Wraith goes flying back and hits the ground. The entire cafeteria falls silent with the exception of the gasps from ass-kissers.
Wraith is on his feet in a matter of a second, fuming and approaching Cameron like he’s going to punch him. Arnold stands from his table and starts stalking over here like a brawl is about to break out.Shit, this is bad.Bree and Damian get up and take a few steps away from the table. I remain seated, unsheathing one of the spare knives I kept just in case I needed it down here. My grip tightens as Wraith casts me a wary glance.
“What do you have there, runt?” he snaps, slamming his good hand on the table and reaching for me. Cameron is faster—he grabs the back of Wraith’s head and cracks his forehead against the table.
Wraith groans as his body slumps off the side of the wood. Cameron grips his collar and pulls him up so he can see his eyes as he mutters, “Fuck off before I kill you with my bare hands.” Wraith’s eyes widen with fear at the pure disdain in Cameron’s voice.
Arnold takes his comrade’s side and sneers at us. “You’re all fucking dead.” He spits at Cameron’s feet before heading back to their table.
Cameron’s eyes are a flood of rage. He nods at me. “Let’s go.” I swallow the adrenaline that buzzes through my veins andrise to follow him out. The others watch us with narrowed eyes before resuming the frenzy of figuring out teams.
I tug on the back of Cameron’s jacket, drawing his attention from over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we stay and get a team put together?” I wipe my sweaty palms off on my pants, trying to steady the roar of my heart. I’m not used to team missions. I can’t put my life and trust in others.
“It won’t matter who we end up with. I won’t let us die out there,” he murmurs, looking ahead as we make our way down the hall where the infirmary lies. Cameron leads us to a training room, just one more door down. My brow lifts.Why are we going in there?
The lights are dim in here, yet still I can see how unscathed and new this weapons room is. It looks like it’s been untouched for many years, or the Dark Forces’s cleaning crew is just immaculate. The dummies at the end of the range have only a few dings in them and the floor is void of the many stains and marks that the Under base held.
“Have you had this trial before?” I ask as I linger around the rifles. There’s a silver ACE 32, modded like the one I saw in the Under, with white accents. I’m drawn to it and decide to loosen up my aim since I’ll likely have to shoot to kill tonight. It feels good to have a long-distance weapon again, but it’s going to give everyone else an edge too.
Cameron grabs two vests and slings one at me before I’m even aware he’s tossed it. I catch it and give him a disgruntled look.
“Yes, actually. And I know that the cadets smart enough to prepare properly had the best chances at winning. Grab that tape on the shelf and wrap your hands. Put that vest on too,” he orders absently. His eyes scour the weapons tables in search of something.
I do as he says and wrap my palms with the medical tape, but decide to leave the higher grade vest off until we’re finished in here. “Do we get to bring these things with us in the trials?” I ask, an uneasiness washes over me that he seems to have entered an entirely new mindset now that he knows what trial it is. He moves methodically, grabbing an extra knife to tuck in his boot and a spare clip of ammo.
Cameron nods. “Weapons included,” he says quieter.
My eyes widen. “Why didn’t Adams say anything then?”
