“Stop,” I say shakily. “You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Rei says. “Not until you learn your place.”
I contemplate tossing out the High General’s title and hiding behind the safety of my surname, but to utter his name with anything but contempt feels wrong. I know that if Warrick ever heard this story, it would warm his cold, dead heart to know that I relied on him.
I grit my teeth, lake water rolling down my skin. I can’t speak the words that might save me. I can’t bring myself to surrender. Or use Warrick to get out of the situation. It doesn’t feel right.
“We’re sorry,” Sora pleads. Her words are desperate and frightened. “We know our place. We won’t cross your path again.”
“I wantherto say it,” Aric says, pointing a finger at me. “Apologize, girl.”
My throat is tight. I can’t force out the words. My pride will be the death of me.
“Mercy, do it,” Sora says. “Please.”
I’m not weak, but I promised my sister I would survive, that I would not leave her behind in this cruel world.
I have to keep my word. For her sake.
“Sorry,” I spit out.
The word tastes like ash on my tongue. It burns my throat and hurts me more than I dare to admit. Twice in one day, I have had to debase myself. First, for Ender and now them.
Bronn takes another step forward.
The currents zap around my face. Inches away from my skin.
“I don’t believe you,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” I say, unclenching my jaw. “I mean it.”
“Let her go,” Aric says.
Bronn steps back, and Sora sighs in relief.
One day, I will have them at my mercy. One day, time will stop at my hands, and I will put a bullet in their heads.
The Gifted are selfish and cruel. They think they are gods—untouchable, invincible, unbreakable. I understand now why the rebels resist conformity, why they reject the Bind and live on their own terms. This is not a society I wish to be a part of. These are not people I want to stand by.
The walk back to the dorms is silent, save for the squelch of mud under our boots and the occasional groans from the shivering recruits. The minute we step inside, everyone rushes to shed their soaked sleepwear. Blankets are wrapped around bony shoulders, and the room fills with whispers about what happened at the lake.
I peel off my water-logged pants and shirt, tossing them into the corner. My braid is wet and heavy, bangs sticking to my forehead like cobwebs on an old house. I sink onto my bunk, shivering despite the heat of the room. We’ll be lucky if we don’t fall ill.
Sora sits beside me, brushing wet strands from her face. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“I know that was hard for you,” she whispers. “You carry yourself like a Gifted. Strong and proud.”
“I’m not one of them,” I say tightly. “I’llneverbe like those monsters.”
It doesn’t matter if I possess powers. I didn’t do shit to earn them. Everyone seems to forget that we are altered. Our bodies reacted differently to a toxin none of us understands. That doesn’t make us special. That just means we were not as resistant as the Commons. They persevered. They survived. While we became mutated.
In a different world, a sane one, our powers would be persecuted, not exalted.
I draw my blanket over my head, letting the heat wrap me in a cocoon.
Today was just a taste of what they have in store for us.
