“He’s gone?” I ask her, and she nods her head, a tear slipping down her cheek.
Dropping to the floor, I pound the stone with my fists. I bite my lip until it splits, and I taste blood. My eyes burn, and I can’t stop shaking. Dylan… my best friend. And the people who did this? They’ll never get caught. Because no one cares about these kids left to student housing. No one cares if a few disappear. It’s survival of the fittest.
That night, I lie on my crate bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, trying not to think about the halls of Student Housing. Every time I close my eyes, I see bruises. Hear the yelling. Smell the rot.
A soft shuffle breaks the quiet.
“Brix?” A tiny whisper. My little sister—Lina.
She’s clutching her blanket, toes curling on the cold floor. Her eyes are wide, shiny with tears she’s trying hard not to blink out.
“I had a bad dream,” she mumbles. “Um… can I…?” She lifts the blanket a little, meaning: Can I come in?
I scoot over. She crawls into the bed, small and warm, her tiny fingers fisting the corner of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
We lie there in the dark, the house creaking with every winter wind.
After a long minute, her voice pipes up again—small, shaky. “I know we’re not supposed to say when we’re scared,” she whispers. “Wraths don’t. I’m sorry; I tried to be brave. Will you not tell anyone? Please?”
My chest goes tight. Angry at the world. At rules that make little kids swallow fear like it’s poison. Angry that she even has to ask.
“I won’t tell,” I whisper back. “Ever.”
She lets out a breath like she’s been holding it all night. She presses closer, falling asleep.
I stay awake.
I think about how she jumped at shadows last week. How our other sisters pretend they don’t hear Mom crying when she thinks we’re asleep. How, one day, when Lina’s old enough, Mom will have to go fight for our faction, and I might already be gone—sent off at twenty like every other Wrath soldier.
And then what? Who keeps them safe?
The Student Housing halls flood into my mind again—dark, hungry, cruel.
I look at my sister’s tiny hand curled against my arm.
Something inside me hardens.
“My sisters will never end up there,” I breathe into the dark, quiet so I don’t wake her. “Never.”
Clenching my jaw in determination, I make the promise again, louder in my head.
I’ll get into the Academy. I’ll get strong enough. Then I’ll have enough money to keep them safe.
I clench my fists again, feeling the heat crawl through me. It’s fire in my chest.
Survival. Protection. I know I can do this, whatever power I awaken. I have to protect my sisters. No excuses. No backing down.
***
Present Day
A good workout and kicking the punching bag’s ass always help me after my nightmares. The sobbing of my sisters fading away as I push my heightened senses to move faster, attack quicker.
I leave the sparing grounds, my bag slung over one shoulder, sweat still clinging to my arms from the brutal session. The mild chill of the academy winter bites at my neck, but I barely notice. My mind’s elsewhere, running over the morning’s drills, Arwen’s laugh from the courtyard, the way she moves when she’s focused. The nightmare is a memory.
A shadow spills over me, and I turn to find the unwelcome presence of Ryker Blaise.
“What do you want?” I say, suspicious. I already don’t enjoy having to watch him fawn all over Arwen.
