by Aella Black
He was looking at me, his eyebrow raised. I got the distinct feeling there was a question somewhere in that statement.
Did he still think I liked Dane? Surely not.
Forget the fact I hadn’t even remembered Dane was in a different lunch than us. The guy had killed me not so long ago. Of course, he hadn’t been given much of a choice. But still… everyone had a choice. He’d made the wrong one.
And yes, Dane helped me find my father during the riots, but that didn’t absolve him of what he had done. Not to mention, he may have been cute and charming, but he was no Xander.
The boy I’d known since we were both learning to ride bicycles had somehow skipped every possible awkward teenage phase to become a ridiculously good-looking man. I’d never really thought of him as such, but as my gaze dipped from his ocean blue eyes to his chiseled jaw, down the defined column of his neck to his broad, muscular shoulders, I suddenly realized he was one.
My stomach clenched—and not in a nice way—when it occurred to me that Xander would turn eighteen soon. Would Mr. Fletcher make him a guard? What was the alternative? He’d said those who were obedient could join the organization… what about those who didn’t want any part of it?
Birdie’s soft voice stopped my spiraling thoughts. “If the new guards are from here, that means they’re more powerful than Wolf.”
“And all of us too,” Cathy said. “Does Fletcher not know that Wolf killed somebody?” She shook a little, and I was once again reminded of how fond Cathy was of Oscar before he died.
I reached over and squeezed her hand. No one spoke after that. What was there to say? Of course Mr. Fletcher knew—and all evidence pointed to the fact that he didn’t care.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. I thought I’d be out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow, but apparently Wolf’s arrival had shaken me more than I realized. I tossed and turned and couldn’t keep my eyes closed, no matter how hard I tried.
Did I think he would suffocate me in my sleep? Because he could if he wanted, and he probably knew it too.
I attempted to divert my thoughts to Xander instead. I still wasn’t sure what he was trying to communicate to me in the cafeteria today—or how an eyebrow could say anything at all—but we couldn’t exactly have a deep conversation. We hadn’t had a moment alone since before Mr. Fletcher showed up and rocked all of our worlds. And right before that—
I gasped, causing Lucy to stir in her bed. After our kiss, Xander had said there was something he wanted to tell me. Then we were interrupted, and I completely forgot about it until now. What was he going to say? And why did I feel like the moment was lost and I’d never know?
Groaning, I shifted to my back and stared into the darkness. At some point, I must have drifted into a troubled sleep.
I’m standing in an open doorway. Behind me, Lansing looms, dark and gloomy. In front of me, a single paved road leads the way to freedom. To my father.
On both sides of the street, green fields stretch as far as the eye can see. I frown. Is this a dream? It seems so real. I smell the grass, feel the warm pavement. Both are calling to me.
I don’t have time to waste.
Pumping my arms and legs, I run down the road, only glancing back to make sure no one is following. No guards come after me. A grin stretches across my face.
This is it. After months of captivity, I am finally escaping. I can go to the police and reach out to parents to let them know what is happening. We’ll all be rescued, and everyone can return home where they belong.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I skid to a halt when I see a black van approach. Instinctively, I know it’s them. The SCC. They will never let me go.
But am I supposed to just give up? I’m not okay with that. There’s nowhere to hide though, so I start running again. Only this time, I veer off the road into the field.
Whoever is driving saw me, and with no trees for concealment, my only chance is to outrun the vehicle. Super-speed would be a useful power right about now.
My eyes continue to track the van while I run, which is why I don’t see the fence until I slam against it. The bars are a cruel, cold metal, not unlike the ones that have kept me confined in my cell. I grab on and yell. “No!”
At the sound of brakes squealing, I spin around. The doors to the vehicle open, and dozens of guards rush out to form several lines in front of me. I reach behind and hold on to the bars. I am cornered like a caged animal.
Bitterness coats my tongue. Again, I’m close to freedom, and again, I’ve failed. It wasn’t enough. I am never enough. Not for my mother, not to save my father, not for anyone.
The line of guards opens up to reveal Mr. Fletcher walking through, a smug smile on his face. It’s not a good look on him.
“Where are you going, Phoebe?” he asks, his voice lilting and musical. He’s taunting me.
I squeeze the bars harder. If this is a dream, I can will the fence away. Then I’ll get out. I’ve done it before… haven’t I?
But no matter how hard I try, nothing happens. This is definitely not a dream.
Mr. Fletcher now stands in front of me, so close I smell his expensive after-shave. “You’re not going anywhere. Plus, were you planning to leave your friends behind?” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head as if disappointed in me. “You know, a wise man once said, ‘His own fight for existence kills his sensibility for the misery of those who have been left behind.’”
“Let me guess, you’re the wise man?” I ask, my tone venomous.
“No, but I am wise enough to learn from those who have successfully changed the world.”
I’m afraid to ask. So I don’t. “Where’s my dad?” I demand.
Mr. Fletcher sighs. “You will never see him again, Phoebe. And I wish you wouldn’t have disobeyed my orders. I told you what would happen if you did.”
Elimination.
Part of me welcomes it. It’s that part that speaks up now. “Go ahead. Kill me.”
He shakes his head. “That won’t do. You’ll only come back to life. Death isn’t a punishment for you, my dear. But watching someone die that you love? That is the ultimate price to pay.”
My heart skips a beat, and I know who Mr. Fletcher is talking about. He already said I will never see my father again. That only leaves one other person.
There’s a commotion among the guard ranks, and suddenly Xander is shoved to the ground in front of me. He looks up at me, and I cry out. “No!”
Though I expected him, I’m not prepared to see him bruised and beaten. Again. Because of me.
Mr. Fletcher shrugs. “Don’t try to escape.” Then he nods at a guard.
Warrick.
Oh no. Mr. Fletcher doesn’t want to just kill Xander. He’s going to torture him—torture both of us—first.
Before the command is given, Wolf steps forward, gun in hand, and points it directly at Xander’s head. Then he fires.
I scream as Xander falls face-down in the grass. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.
My eyes flew open, my breaths hot and heavy. Sticky sweat caused the nightclothes to cling to my skin as I rolled over on my side.
I startled when I saw Lucy staring at me and realized I must have cried out in my sleep. Embarrassed, I turned back over to face the wall. The alarm should go off soon, so there was no point in trying to sleep.
Unlike previous nightmares, this one was crisp and clear. In fact, the image of Xander being murdered might have been permanently branded into my brain.
Was that my subconscious giving me a warning? Wolf knew Xander and I were close. If that got back to Mr. Fletcher, I had no doubt he’d hurt one of us to get to the other. But really, what did we have to lose?
I pulled in a shuddering breath as I thought of a world without Xander in it. As if that weren’t bad enough, I’d have to live with the knowledge that it was my fault he was dead.
For the first time since discovering my power, I truly didn’t want it. How many wou
ld I have to watch die and then go on living without them? Tears pricked my eyes just as the wake-up bell rung.
A forced march on little sleep? It was going to be a long day.
Once I started walking, I could breathe a bit easier. The fresh air and exercise helped, but it wasn’t until I laid eyes on Xander that I felt okay again. I hadn’t realized how worried I was after that nightmare.
Breakfast was quiet—another change due to Mr. Fletcher’s arrival. We were all just too tired and hungry to talk. It made it all the more jarring when Wolf entered the cafeteria to stand guard. I’d hoped his appearance was part of my dream, but no such luck.
The day wasn’t all bad though. Rocky, Birdie, and I were assigned kitchen duty together. With Heath and one of the new supernatural guards—a female—watching from a distance, the three of us had a chance to catch up.
Rocky didn’t beat around the bush. “What’s up, Phoenix? I’ve never seen you look so rough. And I was here when you arrived,” she said pointedly, scanning me from head to toe.
Yikes. Considering I’d just died in a house fire before my imprisonment, that meant I looked rough.
I opened the cooler to start cleaning. “I slept horribly.”
“Again?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together.
How did she—
Oh, right. I’d told Xander yesterday in the cafeteria line, and Rocky must have overheard. Anyone who didn’t know her would think her devil-may-care façade was real. But I knew better. Not only did she care, she never missed a thing.
“Yeah, I’ve been having nightmares,” I said.
“You too?”
I spun around to where Birdie was wiping down a storage cabinet. She shrugged a bony shoulder. “I’ve had bad dreams, too.”
This surprised me. Birdie’s cell was adjacent to mine, but I’d never heard her cry out at night. Then again, maybe her nightmares were bad, but not wake-your-neighbors bad.
I returned my attention to the cooler and resumed scrubbing. It made sense we were having trouble sleeping with all the changes that had occurred. Apparently, Mr. Fletcher’s presence at Lansing was infecting our days and our nights.
Spotting some mold at the back of the cooler, I reared back, wrinkling my nose in disgust.
“What?” Rocky said, laughing. “Did you expect the prison kitchens to be pristine?”
“No,” I muttered. “But still… gross.”
“You wanna talk gross? I was cleaning boys’ bathrooms yesterday. It was a wonder I could eat lunch after that.” She made a gagging sound, and suddenly, a little green in the cooler didn’t seem so bad.
“I lost my appetite when Wolf showed up,” Birdie chimed in.
Rocky and I both nodded our heads in agreement.
“To be honest, I thought he was dead,” she stated in her usual blunt manner.
“He scares me.” Birdie’s voice was so soft, I could barely hear her.
“Don’t be scared,” I said. But I was one to talk.
Even here in the kitchen storage room, I’d looked over my shoulder a time or two, half expecting to see Wolf lurking in the shadows.
Rocky tapped me on the arm, and I turned toward her. Her face serious, she said, “You know you need to keep an eye out for him, right? You two have history. And now he’s in a position of power, it’ll be even worse for you.”
I ground my teeth, not really appreciating her bluntness when it was aimed in my direction. But she was right.
Before I could respond, Cathy’s voice suddenly popped inside my head. From the way Rocky stiffened, I could tell Cathy was in hers too.
“Hi, everybody!”
Oh, so this was a group chat. We hadn’t had one of those in a while, so I was instantly curious why now.
“I don’t want y’all to freak out, but…” My curiosity transformed into alarm in a heartbeat. “I found a note in my cell earlier. Not sure how it got there, but it was rolled around a pencil. I almost stepped on it and could have ended up with lead poisoning!” A pause. And then, “Okay, that was dramatic, I’ll admit.”
Rocky rolled her eyes. “Get to the point,” she muttered, even though she knew good and well that Cathy couldn’t hear us.
“Anyway. I unraveled the paper while my cellmate was in the bathroom. I have no idea who sent it, but it told me to tell you guys—and I quote—‘Hang tight, help is on the way.’ Then it said ‘eat this,’ which is disgusting, but I did it because I didn’t want to get caught. Wanted to let you know, and we can discuss at lunch. See ya!”
Rocky looked thoughtful, and Birdie’s eyes were wide. “Who do you think left the note?”
My mind ran wild with the possibilities, but I couldn’t imagine anyone doing something like that. It wasn’t just the risk involved. Who in this prison would want to help us?
Because the one thing I knew was that the note was meant for the entire group to hear. Whoever left it was aware that Cathy could—and would—relay a message without being detected. It had to be a person on the inside, but who?
I peeked over at Heath, who stood talking to the other guard. He wasn’t paying attention to us in the slightest. Heath was the only semi-nice guard I could think of, but I hadn’t pegged him as someone who would risk it all for a bunch of kids he barely knew.
Come to think of it, I’d hardly seen Heath since the riots. I heard he got in some trouble for not putting a stop to it, but that was stupid. He’d been knocked unconscious by Titus’ power before the fight started, so what could he have done?
The intercom crackled, and I stifled a groan. Mr. Fletcher even managed to find us in the far recesses of the kitchen.
“Good morning, girls and boys!” He sounded chipper—unusually so. “I’m sure you’d all enjoy a break from your work, so report immediately to the main hall for a special surprise. Thank you.” The speaker cut off, and I exchanged glances with Rocky.
“Not a fan of surprises.” She threw her dirty towel on the ground. “Or being talked to like I’m a child.”
Nor was I.
It still struck me sometimes to think this was the same man for whom I’d babysat his kids for years. And now, here he was, terrorizing hundreds of teenagers and talking to us like we were his five-year-old twins.
“What do you think the surprise is?” Birdie asked quietly.
I shook my head and unclenched my teeth. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
But with our luck, it couldn’t be good.
4
Xander
I sprayed cleaner on an office window and wiped it down with a scowl on my face. Why bother having windows when they were so frosted you couldn’t see out of them?
I hadn’t realized how much I ached to look beyond these walls until I entered this room. It was the first window I’d been near in months, not including the ones in the rec area. Those only looked out to the prison yard, which was mostly cast in the shadows because of the high walls surrounding it.
Being able to look outside was one of the many things I’d taken for granted in my previous life. Now, here I was, standing in front of a window, unable to see out of it, making me feel even more isolated from the rest of the world.
And more desperate to leave.
I couldn’t complain about the company, though. I’d lucked out and had office cleaning duty with Tex and Cal, who I saw little of now that he was in the other meal rotation. There were two other guys with us—Anthony and Dallin, I think—along with Dane. Obviously not my favorite person, but he’d been uncharacteristically quiet so I did my best to ignore him.
While Tex and Cal polished a wooden desk behind me, Dane swept the floor. The other two were dusting bookshelves. This was the tenth office we’d cleaned today. Only a couple of guards accompanied our little crew, and they stood silently in the doorway the entire time, eyes trained on us, hands resting on their weapon belts.
I’d always thought claustrophobia was kind of a joke. A punchline. Even if you were stuck inside a box or elevator, you could
easily get out, right?
Not anymore.
Now I knew it wasn’t about the size of the space you were in, but the fear of never being able to leave. I knew, because this was how I felt every single day.
I was wiping the sweat from my forehead when a commotion erupted down the hall. Looking toward the door, I saw the two guards look at one another and then head in the direction of the noise. As soon as they were out of sight, the tightness in my chest loosened a little. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
A scream rose above the other sounds. I winced and redoubled my efforts on the window. Maybe if I scrubbed enough, I’d be able to see out of the stupid thing.
Dane was suddenly at my side, broom in hand. “Hey. I haven’t seen you around much, and I wanted to check… well, no hard feelings, right?” His southern drawl seeped through my eardrums like honey but grated at them like nails on a chalkboard.
And yet, I owed him a debt of gratitude.
Phoebe told me that Dane had helped her find her father during the riot. She didn’t say how he did it, but I was grateful. Even if we hadn’t had success getting her dad out, at least she knew it wasn’t his choice to leave her and that he was still alive.
Or he was, anyway. No telling what had happened to him by now.
Dane was obviously seeking redemption if he was bothering to make an effort with me, so the least I could do was let him off the hook. After all, it wasn’t his fault I couldn’t contain the ugly green monster where he was concerned.
“Sure. It’s all good.”
He fidgeted with the broom, and I knew there was something else he wanted to say. I went back to wiping the window. Figured he’d spit it out when he was ready.
“Hey, uh, is Phoebe okay?”
Ah, so he was going there. “Yeah, she’s fine. Why do you ask?” I asked, glancing over at him.
“I just saw her in the hall earlier, and she looked…” His expression soured a little. “Well, she didn’t look good.”
My instinct was to lash out in Phoebe’s defense. Except that he was right. Phoebe appeared even more weary today than yesterday. Although “weary” wasn’t exactly the correct word. Battle worn, maybe? Like she was up all night fighting a war none of us knew about.
