The group readies quickly while gathering useful intelligence and preparing the prisoners for transport. The dead rebels are left where they fell—a message for anyone who might find them later.
Between me and Calder, we secure the women, my hands moving automatically while my mind reels. This is what I’ve been training for—what the Syndicate calls the greater order. But all I see is broken families and shattered lives.
“You did good back there,” Killian remarks as he passes, nodding toward the tree line where my confrontation took place. “Was a little worried when I saw the fucker chase you. Clean kill?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Gets easier,” he continues, mistaking my silence for something it isn’t. “First one’s always rough, but you’ll find your rhythm.”
He moves on without another word. To him, to all of them, this is just another day’s work. The death I carry, the lives we’ve destroyed…it’s all part of the job.
But as we begin the long march back to the perimeter, prisoners stumbling ahead of us under guard, I know nothing about this will ever be easy. Each step takes me further from the person I was, deeper into a role that’s slowly consuming everything I once believed about myself.
The day closes around us, hiding the evidence of our battle. But the memory of what happened here will follow me long after we’ve returned to thesafetyof Syndicate territory. The man I killed, the families we’ve torn apart, the children whose innocence died today along with their protectors.
I am become death. And the worst part is that tomorrow, I’ll have to do it all again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CASSIA
The makeshift camp settles into an uneasy quiet as the moon draws a slow path across the clear sky. Our tents are arranged in a loose perimeter around the escapees, the recruits’ breathing gradually evening out as exhaustion takes hold. The prisoners sit bound against three separate trees, their forms barely visible in the dying light of our single campfire.
Having foregone a tent, I lie on my bedroll, staring through the canopy at stars I’ve never seen from inside the perimeter. My body aches from the day’s violence, but sleep feels impossible. Each time I close my eyes, that man’s face appears—the moment resignation flickered in his gaze as my blade found its mark. The burden of his blood on my hands is heavier than the tactical gear strapped to my chest.
One of the women we captured hasn’t stopped crying. Soft, broken sobs that slice through the night air every few seconds. Her friend whimpers occasionally, a sound that makes my chest tighten with something I can’t name. Beside her, the young man Kellen secured earlier sits with his head bowed, shoulders shaking with what might be grief or rage.
I count the minutes until the guard rotation. Darius tookfirst watch, his silhouette visible against the fire’s glow as he patrols the camp’s edge. In an hour, Nash will replace him. Then Corin.
My fingers trace the outline of my knife through the fabric of my pack. The blade that ended a life today. The same blade that might save three tonight.
The plan forms in fragments, each piece clicking into place as I sort through the various possibilities. Wait for Nash’s watch. He’s a Concealer which means he’ll be focused on the shadows and any moving parts in the uneven terrain. His attention will be on the perimeter, not the prisoners. I can use power to cloud his judgment, make him drowsy or distracted enough to miss my movement.
I know the risks.
If I’m caught, there’s not a single explanation that will save me. No story about sleepwalking or needing to relieve myself that will account for cut ties and missing prisoners. Arayik would execute me on the spot, and my family would never know what happened to their daughter who vanished one morning with nothing but a cryptic note.
Yet the alternative—watching these people get dragged back to breeding facilities or worse—feels like a suffocating betrayal of everything I am beneath this mask.
Remnants of the fire pop, sending flickering ash spiraling into the darkness. Next to me, Calder shifts in his tent, and for a moment I think he might be awake. His breathing pattern seems even. He doesn’t move again, and after several tense seconds, I convince myself it’s just paranoia.
Time crawls. The forest around us settles into its nocturnal rhythm as the air chills. It’s going to be rather cold by morning.
When Nash finally takes his position, I force myself to wait another thirty minutes. Long enough for Darius to fall asleep and Nash to settle into his routine; for his attention to drifttoward the treeline where threats might emerge. The prisoners have gone quiet, exhaustion finally claiming them despite their circumstances.
I rise slowly, every movement intentional to avoid the telltale creak of gear or a rustle of fabric. My boots find the soft spots between roots and leaves, years of learning ultimate silence in my family’s house serving me now in ways I never imagined.
Nash stands twenty feet from the prisoners, his back partially turned as he scans the forest. Perfect.
I reach out with my empathy, feeling for the edges of his consciousness. His emotions are a steady hum of boredom and mild alertness—exactly what I need. I don’t push hard, just a gentle nudge toward drowsiness. The kind of fatigue that one would sustain after a day of battle and travel, nothing that would trigger suspicion if questioned later.
His shoulders relax slightly, head tilting back to glance at the stars, and I know I have my window. He’s partially asleep, enough that he won’t immediately notice light sound or movement from my direction.
My feet hurry to the prisoners, the women snapping awake to stare at me with wide eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I breathe. They strain to hear the words. “I’m going to free you.” I receive skeptical glances, but neither of them makes a sound and I take that as my cue to get started.
The bonds are simple zip-ties, designed for speed rather than top security. My knife parts the plastic easily. The young man’s eyes snap open as I touch his wrist, but I press a finger to my lips. The relief I experience when understanding flickers across his features is unmatched.
