I slump back against the wall, cataloging each ache in my bones and muscles. These weeks of training have reshaped me—hardening soft places and creating calluses where once was smooth skin. My hands bear splits across the knuckles from blocking strikes. My thighs burn from holding squats until they tremble while my shoulders carry a perpetual tightness from hauling my weight up ropes, across beams, over walls.
Is this what being a man feels like? This constant push toward physical extremes, this endless testing of limits?
I allow myself a moment of pure rage each morning, usually dedicated to the Riverton transfer I’d discovered. Thosewomen have been processed by now, tested for their next fertile cycle so the Enforcers know when to rape them.
A sting on my palms forces me to calm, and I pull my nails back.
Focus, Cassia. One failure doesn’t end the mission.
I’m just reaching for my notebook when there’s a thunderous knock at my door. “Ashford! Get your dumbass out here!”
I recognize Calder’s voice immediately. Unlike most of the recruits, he’s been almost friendly toward me, though ‘friendly’ here means he hasn’t actively tried to sabotage me during training or insult me outside of it.
“What?” I call back, sliding my mask into place before cracking the door. The material is cool against my face, a now-familiar pressure I’ve come to associate with survival rather than constraint.
He stands in the hallway, unmasked to my surprise. His face is round and youthful despite the scruff of beard, with bright eyes that stay perpetually amused.
“We’re organizing a shockball match. Need more players.” He grins. “You in?”
I blink. Maybe I misheard. “A what?”
“Shockball. You know—” He gestures vaguely with his hands forming some kind of round shape. “Teams, scoring, tackling. It’s a free-day tradition.”
My stomach knots. A group activity is the last thing I need—especially one requiring physical coordination I do not possess. But refusing would draw attention and further mark me as different. The balance between blending in and keeping my distance has been the hardest part of my time here.
“I have plans,” I reply, falling back on my usual vagueness.
Calder snorts. “What plans? Hiding in your room all day? Come on, even Elias and Kellen are playing.”
Even more reason for me to stay, I don’t say outloud. They’ve been watching me with increased interest since Elias found me the other day.
“Is…everyone going?” Shit, that didn’t sound as casual as I wanted it to.
But Calder doesn’t notice, shrugging. “Pretty much. Except maybe the Commander. He apparently disappears on free days. So, you coming or what?”
Refuse and seem suspicious, or go and risk exposure?
Who am I kidding, my entire life here is a risk of exposure. “Fine,” I say, hating the decision even as I make it. “Give me five minutes.”
When I step outside, masked and uniformed despite the casual atmosphere, I find our group of recruits and several other Enforcers milling near the main entrance. Most wear only the lower half of their uniforms with simple black undershirts instead of the reinforced tactical gear. All are unmasked, their faces exposed to the bright midday sun with an ease that makes my skin crawl.
How do they not feel vulnerable? Naked?
There’s a freedom in their expressions, my throat tightening with envy and disgust—the unearned privilege of men who have never needed to hide or face consequences for simply existing.
I spot Elias and Kellen standing apart from the group, deep in conversation. Kellen’s mask hangs loosely from one hand as he gestures with the other, his face animated in a way I’ve never seen during training. Elias laughs at something he says, the light sound gleaming across the yard. I want to hear it again.
I force myself to focus elsewhere when an uncomfortable fluttering sensation skitters through my chest, focusing on the others once more. My attraction to any of them is unacceptable.
“You’re not taking your mask off?” Calder asks,falling into step beside me as the group moves toward a trail leading away from the building.
“No.”
“We’re not on duty, no one cares.”
My response is flat toned. “I do. Someone from the Syndicate could arrive at any time, and I’m not risking disciplinary action for a game.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Suit yourself, Ashford. But it’s over ninety degrees today. You’ll cook in that thing.”
