“…told you, sub-two’s camera is still stuck on the blind,” Bored says as a stack lands on the desk and paper rasps. “Two weeks and counting.”
“Shut up about blind spots,” Sour answers, a drawer squealing in his wake. “You want to keep your post? Stop stringing those two words together.”
They are three steps into the room, and I am six rows back. There’s no solid cover, just cardboard and chance. I slide left asI keep my profile tight and let the shelf hide the shape of me. The metal is cold through the sleeve as I press in and slow my breathing until I’m dizzy.
“Inventory says this should’ve gone upstairs,” Bored remarks with a scoff. “Upstairs says downstairs.”
“Their problem then.” Soap taps something rhythmically on the desk. “You picking up the extra watch or am I?”
“Depends on whether the morning crew keeps losing the keys to Sublevel Four.” The chair creaks as he drops into it. “Who keeps misfiling transit anyway? You see this? Someone stuck Riverton returns between the vehicle logs for South Gate.”
The pulse in my neck increases with those words.
“Whatever,” Bored mutters. “I’ll sign, you stamp, and we won’t die in this room yet.”
They do exactly that—two thumps of a rubber stamp, a pen scratching, a frequent sigh—and then the door hisses open again. Their footsteps retreat the way they came. The silence after feels brighter as my heartbeat slows back into something I can stand.
My mind counts to ten before allowing my body to move. I don’t take anything with me—I can’t. Everything returns to where I found it as a habit of erasing myself out of rooms I shouldn’t be in. I’ll come back another time for the missed rows.
The corridor outside is cold when I slip out, and I fold back into the path I know, matching my steps to the camera sweep and pausing at the places where the sound of voices travel. I am careful not to run and keep my head straight as a cart rattles past me in the main corridor.
Back in my room, the door clicks shut and my back rests against it as the tension runs out of my arms. My hands still shake. I clench and unclench them until the tremor edges off and stretchevery limb twice over.
Eat first, then another day of training.
Outside,the yard smells of mud and fog as the morning wind sweeps the night away. The sky is a flat gray, and the air has a bite to it as the recruits gather. Our group is quiet amongst themselves while I keep to the edge like I always do, close enough to catch what’s being said and far enough not to invite conversation.
Nash and Calder cackle at something Finnick said, all attention on the man telling a story about pantsing his brother in primary school. The atmosphere simmers with anticipation, each of us knowing something is different today with the change in schedule. What will our great leaders stick us with next?
The Commander stomps out of the building, Elias and Kellen flanking him as they always do—Elias quiet and contained, Kellen’s head moving just enough to count us as we line up properly.
“Attention,” Arayik says, and we do. Three rows, with me in the back one, between Darius and Pax. The air tightens without changing, and my jaw clenches as I stare ahead, past the three men.
“Last week’s mission was a success,” he says in the warmest tone I’ve yet heard from him. “The Syndicate is pleased.”
My palms prickle as my fingers curl and the edge of a nail punctures the surrounding skin. Copper taints my tongue. Success is not even close to the word I would have used to describe that disgrace of a mission. I want to shove a fork into each of his eyes, drag them from their sockets, and stomp onthem since he doesn’t use them anyway. How blind can one man be?Success? Is he fucking kidding?
“But there’s no room for complacency now.” His voice carries without him needing to push it. “Our primary mission approaches. Intelligence puts the main rebel camp in the northern mountains beyond the perimeter, but there is a smaller outpost east of the wall. We leave in five days.”
A ripple moves through the rows as the word beyond settles amongst us. Some of the recruits lean forward almost imperceptibly; some go still. My stomach tightens and then lurches, because this is the part I knew would come—out there is where I have to be if I want a chance to do anything but stand in rooms and listen to myself fail.
“That means a change in your schedules as you will be assessed once more. Today is combat readiness.”Stars. “You’ll be tested individually once again.”
He motions with one hand, and the yard beyond makes more sense. Different stations—hurdles and walls, rope climbs, a matted square, whatever torture devices they deem necessary this time. Half the recruits break away to begin, and the rest of us stand as the wind slides across the yard and lifts the edge of my mask.
I watch. I don’t want to do this. Obeying anything they command is so painful…I just witnessed Kellen murder a man simply for being human. And to them it’s inconsequential behavior. But to me? Unfathomable.
How am I to look these men in the eye and hide the absolute disgust I feel each time I do? They believe me one of them, yet I’m the furthest thing from it. I’m going to give myself away if I cannot control these emotions.
“Ashford.”
The sound of my family name from Arayik’s mouth stings even more than usual. I angle my head toward him, hating howhis attention is direct and heavy and right on me. “You’re with me.” Why is it always me? He spars with recruits regularly, though something tells me I’m singled out in this.
Deep breaths, Cass.
I follow him to the mat as the rustle of bodies on the course greets my ears. My heart beats at my throat as I stand square to him and keep my hands lowered.
“Attack,” he instructs, nodding at me.
