Watch It Burn
Any assault upon a person under the protection of a command sanctuary shall be treated as an attack against the Defiance itself, and punished without mercy.
—THE ARTICLES OF THE DEFIANCE
Days passed, and Lucas fidgeted with nervous energy, pacing our cabin, reorganizing the scant decorative objects on the shelves, drumming his fingers across surfaces like the keys of his piano. Every morning, he took a private meeting with Theo and Williams while I was asked to piss off. Eventually, his meetings transitioned to the main building so he could run drills with his new squad. Adam and Isaac were selected for this covert mission, but none of them would tell me how much danger was involved.
“Obviously that means it’s a lot,” I said to Lucas one night while we ate dinner with Adam at our small table.
“You’ll be fine,” he replied, eyes on his plate.
“I’m not worried about me, Lucas. Clearly I’ll be fine if I’m sitting at home waiting for you to come back.”
Adam chuckled, but he declined to engage in the argument. Lucas said nothing.
“So there’s a chance you’ll come back, right?” I finally asked in a small voice.
Unsmiling as he met my gaze, Lucas tore off a piece of bread and chewed. “What do you think?”
I crossed my arms at his flippancy. Adam’s smile died.
Lucas’s bare smirk emerged. “Tragedies only hook an audience if there’s suffering, sweetheart. There’s a reason Williams is pushing the fearful passage of our death-mark’d love.”
I hated that he was right. The crippling sensation of being used like this, our broken hearts manipulated to please an audience… It made me want to hit things.
“Please stop quoting that goddamn play, Lucas.”
He leaned forward and touched his lips to mine. “Thus with a kiss I die.”
As February plodded into March, the weather remained frigid and blue. My boots crunched in the dry grass as I trudged back and forth from the main building to our new home, cheeks red with the cold snap.
Around lunchtime a week into our cabin lockdown, I was heading back to Lucas with a paper sack full of food. My escort—Lieutenant Salinas today—hung back several steps. Deep in my own thoughts, I only noticed the other sets of footsteps when something squeezed my arm.
The powerful grip unleashed a vortex of fear. The sack in my hand dropped to the ground as a force slammed me back against a tree. Pain exploded across my barely healed back.
My scream tore through the air, sending winter birds fleeing.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
My lungs stalled as I took in the two men restraining me, hostility gleaming in their eyes. Behind them, a giant of a soldier had taken Salinas in hand, though it didn’t escape me that my guard did nothing to break free or help me.
The man whose hand covered my mouth stared down at me with hate and revulsion, but also a tinge of thrill.
I whimpered behind his hand and squeezed my eyes shut.
I’d seen a look like that before.
On Jack Miller’s face.
Images assaulted me.
The cuffs had been so tight. They’d burned my skin raw. The sandalwood invaded my senses. He held my mouth shut when I cried so I could smell every note of that cologne.
I thought of Lucas’s voice.Breathe, Sophia.
A quick shot of air made it through my nose, but the panic wouldn’t recede. I scratched at my captor’s hand, but his compatriot snatched my arm and wrenched it against the tree.
Subdued.
