CASSIA
Arayik paces the front of our group like he owns the floor. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. “There was unauthorized access in the archives yesterday at 0412—the scanner next to the door pinged when no one was scheduled to be there. So, effective immediately, all sublevels are restricted to leadership only. No one will be permitted without prior documentation.” My jaw squeezes past the point of pain. A hush follows those words, then a single, clipped addition, “Now, the Syndicate has decided we’ve had enough time. We leave at dawn.”
The room tightens. Four days gone, just like that.
Not before I’m ready, I think—and then remind myself no one asked, nor does anyone care.
My body sobs knowing the chance to heal before we leave is no longer an option. My poor muscles; even just sitting here hurts. And I now cannot visit the archives again…what a day. I don’t believe they know it was me; I was precise with my movement around the cameras and I’m certain I’d be either dead or in a holding cell if they did know.
I suppose bright sides do exist.
Kellen plants his hands on the table at the front of the room. I’m seated in the front row, so the tension in his muscles is undeniable. “Recon determines the camp at roughly a day’s travel beyond the southeastern perimeter. Objectives remain unchanged: secure all females of breeding age or younger for transport, and neutralize any resistance.”
Secure. Neutralize. Mira’s face flashes, then the men whose bodies dropped so quickly. I lock my hands at my sides.
Elias doesn’t step forward so much as the room leans toward him. “You’ll be assigned to squads,” he adds, calm and steady. “Follow your lead without question. There is no choice beyond the perimeter. This is not training, and your actionswillhave very real consequences.”
Arayik reads the list. “Ashford, Crowell, Eston, Spinel, Styx report to Elias. Amata, Flor, Hasten, Vion, Epner to Kellen. Benson, Rhyne, Forven, Rayne, Till are with me.”
Relief hits hard enough I have to stiffen my body so it doesn’t sag my shoulders. Not Arayik. Elias isn’t safe—no one here is—but he’s the best choice of the three if I’m to be stuck with any.
Kellen unrolls a map, lines and numbers identifying pre-marked spots. “I will go over this only once. There will be no time to brief you on it in the field.” He pauses until every person’s attention is solely on him. “Elias’ squad will approach from the north while I take the east and the Commander secures the south. A river covers the west, allowing us to cover all exits before pushing their people back toward it. At which time we will complete the mission objective and return to the perimeter. Pack light. Once we’re past the wall, convoys stay. We walk the remainder and will carry one drone for location confirmation.”
“Signal?” asksVito.
“Rayne, Eston, and myself will transmit necessary information when possible, but squads are expected to hold their own and reconvene by the river,” Kellen answers.
I study the map. There’s not much to it, which is soothing in an anxiety-inducing way. It means we don’t know what we’re walking in to, but it also means they know very little about the escapees or their camps. So they’ll have no idea if some happen to be missing at the end of this.
“Dismissed,” Arayik says, standing tall. “Pack and sleep. Be late at dawn, and I leave without you. And when I come back, I’ll make sure you wish I hadn’t.”
We break. I’m at the door when a hand closes around my arm.
“A word,” Elias murmurs when I lock eyes with him, steering me down the hall.
“Sir,” I answer, neutral, as my pulse kicks.
He smells nice this close. His eyes stay on me even as they flick to our path every so often. “Are you ready for this?” he asks, low.
I expect accusation, and I get concern? That’s somehow worse. And why is he only asking me? “Yes, sir.” A lie, but if he catches it, he doesn’t comment.
“Beyond the wall, things are far more intense. If you hesitate, someone else bleeds for it.”
I nod once. “Understood.”
“Pack warm,” he adds. “The nights do notadhere to seasons.”
Dawn is gray and foreboding—thekind of gray that can make any happy person gloomy in an instant. Convoys idle at the front of the training center, engines humming low. We’ve been standing here for at least twenty minutes, waiting—for the Commander, of all people. Figures. “Squad two,” Elias calls, and I leave formation with Finnick, Killian, Corin, and Calder. We climb into the center vehicle—narrow windows, semi-comfortable benches, air stale as can be—and I take the corner. Prison and shield, the mask presses against my cheekbones the way it always does.
The door slams before our vehicle lurches when the rest of the team is ready, and the Center shrinks behind us as the perimeter grows and grows. My heart thuds in a terrible pattern. Could it beat any faster? It tries.
The road under us falls apart fast, shifting from gravel to broken asphalt. Each crack pops the convoy and wrings a groan out of the men in unison as we lurch from our seats. Even the vehicle complains. We bounce for hours—no one speaking, just the steady breath of bodies and the dusty taste of silence—until Elias raps twice on the partition and rolls the convoy to an unsteady stop.
I peer out the window, jaw dropping at the utter expanse of the perimeter. From my position, the sky is no longer visible—nor the top of the wall.
This is…significantly larger than I’d thought.
Shedding scales of concrete run from the base up, and even surrounded by luscious trees of the forest, it’s utterly intimidating.
