And the woman…
Is it an acknowledgment that women can be dangerous despite being systematically oppressed? Or is it simply meant to emphasize that any woman who steps outside her assigned role becomes a threat to be eliminated?
I shake away the nonsense, refocusing on the present. One thing is crystal clear: this training is designed to create flawless weapons of the Syndicate—Enforcers who react instantly, who perceive threats everywhere, and who eliminate without hesitation.
The perfect soldiers.
And somehow, I need to become one of them without becoming like them. I need to learn their methods without adopting their mindset. Gain their trust while hoping for their downfall.
These men before me have been conditioned from birth to believe in their unity. The greater order. They’ve neverquestioned the system that benefits them. How can I hope to understand them enough to push back on the Syndicate’s will without losing myself in the process?
The headache intensifies, a physical manifestation of the mental strain I’m under.
I will continue to learn and adapt.
And when the time comes, I will use everything they teach me to piss in the face of theirgreater order.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CASSIA
After Elias’ training ends, I trail behind the others as we file along the stairwell. My head still throbs from the simulation, though even with the discomfort, I count the steps taken on our journey to the surface and memorize the route. This place feels like a fortress built on secrets—each hallway potentially hiding information that could help me understand what I’m up against.
When we reach the landing, I pause as if catching my breath—a reasonable excuse given my dismal performance in physical training yesterday. From here, I inspect the railings to the lower levels. It’s difficult to discern how many floors there are due to the lack of lighting, but there’s definitely more than I had thought.
A voice drifts from somewhere below, too distant to make out words. The sound sinks into the concrete, creating a hollow echo that struggles to crawl up the stairwell. I strain to catch more, but Vito clears his throat behind me, indicating I’ve lingered too long.
“Move it, Ashford.”
I nod once before ascending. By the time we reach the main floor, my lungs are heaving and the others havealready dispersed to their next training. The time on the wall taunts me, indicating a mere three minutes before I must be in Kellen’s classroom. My legs protest as their pace quickens, navigating the maze of corridors with efficiency.
Kellen stands alone in the classroom, rearranging some materials on a central podium, unaware of my presence. For a moment, I’m frozen in the doorway, staring at his broad back and the precise, deliberate movements of his hands. There’s something fascinating about watching people when they don’t realize they’re being observed—the small habits and gestures they display reveal more about them than their public personas ever could.
This is the first time I’ve seen any of the leaders without other recruits around. It’s an opportunity to examine, but it’s also dangerous to be caught staring, so I step into the room, ensuring my footfalls are audible enough to announce my presence.
The leader’s gaze flicks up, his eyes finding mine through the narrow slits in our masks. “Ashford,” he acknowledges with a slight nod. “Early.”
“Yes, sir.” Early? There isn’t one minute left before everyone is expected to be here.
The lecture hall is cavernous compared to our small group size—a wide semicircle of tiered seating built into concrete, rising from a central area. There are no desks, just seats molded into the risers with not even a finger width of space between them. The ceiling soars at least twenty feet overhead, and soft panels line the walls.
I choose a seat in the front row, directly facing the podium. From this position, I’ll have the clearest view of whatever Kellen presents, and—more importantly—the rest of the group will sit behind me where I won’t be bothered by their scrutiny.
Hyperawareness settles in my hands as I sit. The setting isa bit awkward; while I’m forced to lean in a relaxed position, the atmosphere suggests that more rigid posture is required. But I’ve no idea how to balance the two…Perhaps I should have sat behind the others.
I try setting them on my legs, then shift them to my sides, then back to my legs, unable to find something comfortable that doesn’t scream lazy and inattentive. Each movement feels unnatural.
Most of the men at breakfast had lounged back with an easy confidence, arms crossed or stretched wide, legs spread an annoying distance from each other. Sucking in a cool breath, I mimic the casual sprawl.
Yuck.
It’s exposing—as if my only purpose is taking up more space than my body needs. Like I’m screaming my presence at every bystander rather than trying to disappear into it. But before I can cringe and adjust for the ninth time, I remind myself this is natural for males, even in other species; where they expose themselves, marking territory and establishing dominance through the most basic displays. This bizarre body language must serve a similar purpose for human men too, as an assertion of space and importance.
Strange creatures, men. I don’t recall these patterns with my father or Lachlan, but I’m quickly accepting that nothing I learned about social etiquette in my home will apply to this new world I’ve leaped into. There was no competition in our home, no hierarchy to maintain, solidifying my dread that I need to stop comparing the two and find my own way here.
Tapping a heel to ease the electricity buzzing through me, I watch Kellen as he continues arranging his materials, the silence stretching taut between us. Much like with Elias in the transport, the quiet is almost comforting in the absence of forced conversation. Familiar, even.
Footsteps echo from the hallway, and moments later the other recruits file in: Nash, Darius, Brenner, Corin, and Silas. They enter as a pack, informal words flowing between them as if they’ve known each other for years rather than a couple days. They likely bonded over dinner last night, which is not something I’m going to achieve unless I skip some meals.
