“And did others escape with you?”
Her eyes dart to the men on the floor, then back to me. The hope I’ve been nurturing flickers, threatening to extinguish.
“No.” Her voice is barely audible. “Just me.”
I know she’s lying. I can feel it in the way her emotions shift, in the subtle tension that runs through her body. But I nod as if I believe her.
“Thank you.” I mean it. I’m thanking her for her courage, for her resistance, for demonstrating what strength really looks like.
Before I can say anything else, more recruits step in, grabbing her arms and dragging her to the door. She doesn’t fight them now—the hope I planted has made her more compliant.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
I’ve betrayed her. Used her own emotions against her.
Bile rise in my throat.
“What about them?” Thane asks, gesturing to the three men still kneeling on the floor.
The Commander’s answer is immediate and final. “Standard procedure.”
My bones crystallize as Kellen and two others step forward, weapons raised. I want to look away, but I force myself towatch. I owe them that much, at least—to witness what happens to those who defy the Syndicate.
The shots are deafening in the small room. Three bodies crumple to the floor, blood pooling beneath them. It happens so fast—one moment they’re breathing, the next they’re gone. No ceremony or regard for their life. Just execution.
Kellen holsters his weapon as if he’s done nothing more significant than swat a fly. Arayik nods once, satisfied, and turns to leave.
“Back to base,” he orders. “Ashford, with me.”
I follow him outside, my legs moving mechanically, eyes unseeing. The sunlight feels wrong somehow—too bright and normal for what just happened. The woman is already being loaded into a separate transport, her head bowed, shoulders slumped. The hope I gave her will die soon, replaced by the reality of what awaits her at Riverton.
I’m so sorry.
“Your approach was effective,” Arayik remarks as we walk toward the main transport. “But don’t ever countermand my orders again. Clear?”
“Yes, Commander.” The words are ash in my mouth.
He leaves to speak with his second and third as I climb into the transport, sitting as far from the others as possible. No one speaks as we pull away from the house, abandoning the three bodies cooling on the floor and kidnapping a woman bound for a life of despair in the truck next to us.
The ride back to the training center passes in a blur. My mind keeps replaying those final moments—the sound of newly dead bodies dropping to the floor, the ache in Mira’s eyes as they dragged her away. I used my power against her. I’m no better than the men I’m pretending to be.
I’m so disgusted with myself.
When we arrive, the recruits disperse, some to the dininghall, others to their quarters. How anyone can eat after such horror, I’ll never understand.
I follow the group toward the common areas anyway, but my mind is elsewhere. Mira will be processed and transported to Riverton within hours. Gone from the world forever, replaced by identification number W-7249.
Unless…
An idea emerges, dangerous and half-formed. Much like the one that led me here in the first place.
The corridors are emptying as recruits settle into their evening routines. This might be my only chance.
I slip away from the main group, striding for the lower levels. The holding cells are on sublevel four—I’ve seen the layout on maps during Kellen’s training. If I can reach her before they transport her, maybe I can…
What? Help her escape? How? I have no plan, no resources, nothing but a desperate need to do something.
I hurry down the stairs to where the temporary detainees are held. The corridor is dimly lit, cameras positioned at regular intervals. No one guards the door at the end of the hallway as it’s secured with a keypad. And yet another obstacle—I don’t know the code.
