God, I could only imagine.
“How about you, Emery?” Bree asks as we make sure we have our final selection from the armory and head back out to the barracks before anyone gets suspicious.
“I’m just some rich asshole’s daughter that got caught killing people.”Turned in by her own father.“I’m twenty-four.”
They both nod thoughtfully as we turn the corner into the hallway. Their smiles seem so easy and relaxed. Everyone in the Under has had to shed their past in one way or another. It gives me hope that maybe I can too.Maybe I don’t have to be the executioner anymore. A smile pulls at my lips with the thought. My eyes narrow as they land on Cameron who’s smoking a cigarette with his back pressed against the wall.
He lets his eyes rove over them both, ignores me, and looks the other way.He’s such a child. I want to say so many things to him, but know it won’t get anywhere so I strut right past him. Bree and Damian share a hesitant look with each other as they follow me. Cameron’s footsteps trail behind us.
The afternoon drags out as the remaining cadets sort out their squads. I’m sure ours will get whoever the last person left out is. None of us are concerned about it, so we rest as much as we can and wait.
By the time we’ve finished dinner, our table is approached by a cadet about my size. He has a grim look on his face and seems nervous.
“I’m all that’s left,” he mumbles and keeps his eyes on our shoulders. His hair is fawn and short and curly throughout, freckles pass over his cheeks and nose. He looks like the mostinnocent young man of the century. I’ve seen him a few times in passing in the Under. It takes me a second to place him. Oh, he’s the guy who was usually in the library like I was. He always keeps to himself.
Jesus, how did he even survive the first trial?
Cameron stares at him coldly, seeming to make the frail thing sink further into himself.
I blow out a breath at everyone’s salty greeting.
“What’s your name?” I offer a smile and gesture to the seat next to me. He pauses before conceding and sitting down.
“Bryce. I already know all of your names, so no need to introduce yourselves.” He gives a hesitant look around the table before looking back down. Bryce has large circle-shaped glasses that are strapped onto his head like goggles so they don’t fall off. He seems incredibly intelligent.
From what I’ve gathered down here, intelligence goes a long way. It’s not all brawn. After all, there’s a reason he’s still alive.
“So, Bryce, what do you have to offer the group?” Damian says rigidly. That earns him a scowl from Bree, but she looks a bit withheld on Bryce being here too. It’s not like we have a choice in the matter.
Bryce’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I’m not very good at combat or killing people. Not directly, that is.” His voice has a smooth edge to it. It’s eerie, since he’s been giving off a timid vibe this whole time.
“Oh God, you poison people, don’t you,” Bree blurts out.
“Well, yes, but it’s hard to poison others in the trials. I mean, guns and knives versus a bottle of death doesn’t exactly go head-to-head, but traps happen to be one of my specialties.” We collectively share a mortified look, with the exception of Cameron. He keeps his arms folded and assesses Bryce quietly.
“What kind of traps?” I ask, finding him more interesting than I did a moment ago. Bryce has an air of calmness about him, even though he looks the least likely to survive of anyone.
Bryce smiles at my question, seeming to love the chance to explain his methods. “My personal favorite is a mixture of simple poisons and nails.”
“Nails?” Damian sputters.
“Yes. I dip them into the poison and align the traps in strips across common pathways used by the others. Poison is also useful on combat knives for those of you that prefer a more direct route.”
Literally all of us except this guy.
“You’re fucking terrifying,” I chide. It didn’t cross my mind once that there might be someone like him in the Under. Poison takes knowledge and study to learn which ones work faster and what effects they cause. I wonder if that’s what he was studying in the library all that time.
Thank God I didn’t step on one of his traps in the first trial.
Bryce rubs his knees anxiously. “You think so?”
Damian laughs and slaps his hand across Bryce’s back and says, “Yeah, let’s just say I know who I’m never pissing off. I like to eat my food without worrying if it’s going to kill me, thanks.” Bree doesn’t share in his amusement; her expression is filled with apprehension for our new teammate.
I pointedly look at Cameron. “Any input?” He blatantly ignores me and continues to watch the other groups as they whisper among themselves the same way we are.
It’s clear that we’re one of the teams that are going to be targeted the most. It doesn’t help that we now have to worry about Bryce too. His frame is thin—one deep breath and the guy could fall over. But I bet he’s the only one that could kill us all before we even knew it was happening.
“What’s his problem? Are you two fighting? We don’t have time for you two to be fighting.” Bree’s tone is stern. She’s leveling us both with fierce eyes. “We’re all relying on each other in there. Can you fix whatever this is?” She gestures between us with her hand before standing. “Come on, Bryce, we’ll get you prepared.”
