And difference, in the Syndicate’s world, is dangerous.
The transport lurches over a bump, and my jaw clenches as I hold in a whine. My muscles flex—hopefully we reach the training center soon. This day has been long enough without adding pissing myself to the list.
As we drive through the rumbling storm, my head wanders. I’ve been here many days and have gathered miniscule amounts of information on these men. It worries me. Am I any closer to reaching my goal, or am I simply being drawn deeper into their world, becoming more like them with each passing day as my priorities shift?
The thought of that terrifies me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CASSIA
Afrown seizes my face as the purple-black bruises marring my ribs throb with each step I take toward the training room. These past few days have been grueling, and while I’m getting better, I’m not improving fast enough for the Commander’s standards, regardless that I wake early each morning, sacrificing precious sleep to go over combat maneuvers.
The corridors are nearly empty this early, populated only by a few lone Enforcers on patrol who never acknowledge me. The low hum of electricity grates my ears, not only because of how annoying I find it, but it’s become a sound I associate with being watched. The entire facility is under constant surveillance. And the facility isn’t the only thing monitoring me.
Theyare watching too. Elias, Kellen, Arayik.
They aren’t watching me because I’m special…they’re watching because something about me isn’tright. Some instinct tells them I don’t belong, even if they can’t identify why. It’s why the Commander asked me that stupid question, to confirm I’m a fraud. It’s why I’ve felt his eyes lingering on me during training, seen Kellen studying my movements when he thinksI’m focused elsewhere, noticed how Elias seems to appear wherever I go.
My fists clench as I exhale slowly, forcing the tension from my shoulders. Paranoia will only make me more conspicuous—I must keep behaving as normal.
Well, normal for me. Which means being an idiot who’s bad at just about everything.
The moment I step inside the training room, the smell of sweat, leather, and metal overwhelms me. The vast space grumbles with grunts, slapping of flesh against mats, and clattering of practice weapons. At the far end, several recruits are already in motion—practicing hand-to-hand techniques, running through drills, or speaking in hushed voices as they prepare for another day of punishment.
Arayik hovers near the center of the room, arms crossed, feet planted wide in a stance that declares ownership of the space. He watches as Calder is slammed onto the mat by Finnick with enough force that I swear Ifeelthe impact from across the room. Ouch.
“Again,” the Commander orders, his voice impatient.
Calder groans, rolling onto his hands and knees before pushing himself up. Compliance is always mandatory.
I take my place with the other recruits, hands resting at my sides, trying not to appear as tense as I feel. During these non-mandatory morning trainings, I usually spend the time working alone in my room, but today I felt compelled to join the group.
The moment I’m within view, Arayik’s dark gaze snaps toward me, and I cringe. Stars, why does he have to be so scary looking? Perhaps I should ignore my impulses from now on.
His second and third stand near the training equipment, watching as Arayik addresses us. The three of them form a triangle of authority—Arayik the blunt force, Kellen thecalculating mind, Elias the perceptive observer. Between them, nothing escapes notice.
It’s nauseating.
“You’re all fucking hopeless.” Great way to begin the day. “You hesitate. You think too much. You rely on orders instead of instinct.” His mask turns slowly, surveying each of us. “That gets you killed.”
I almost choke when his dark eyes land on me a second time. The air thickens and I know I’m about to become an example.
“Get up here, Ashford.”
My heart skips and cries for help I cannot offer.
I join the Commander, careful to keep my movements measured and confident despite the tremor threatening to work its way through my legs. I stop a few feet from him, keeping enough distance that he wouldn’t be able to reach out and hit me like I’m sure he aches to.
He collects a wooden staff leaning against the wall and tosses it at my feet. It clatters against the floor, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of the room. Everyone’s watching—even the Enforcers not on our team.
“Pick it up,” he commands.
I hesitate only for a fraction of a second before scrambling to grab the staff. I may spend unnecessary time readjusting my grip as I recall everything from our previous session with these. Traitorous words of begging almost slip through my mouth—I do not want to do this. I’m so tired.
Unfortunately, there’s really nothing helpful in those memories. Just embarrassment.
He says nothing, leaving me barely a moment before he lunges.
