Reactive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

“What, you don’t like this, little bird? Are you perhaps afraid of something? You wouldn’t want to work on that now, would you? I’m all too willing to help.” His warm breath feathered my cheek as he exploited my attempts to escape.

  “I’m going to murder you, Brendan Bearon!” I wrenched my knee up toward his groin, but he slid a leg between mine. Heat pooled in my core and I inhaled sharply.

  A whistle came from shore. Catcalls. We broke apart and I almost tumbled back into the water.

  “Well, you two look cozy,” Lars said loudly. “Don’t stop on our account. We were enjoying the show.” At least a dozen trainees hooted and snickered at his words.

  I wanted to drown myself; my face was on fire. “Grow up, Lars. You’re just jealous because no one wants to cuddle with you. Try taking a shower once in a while and see what happens.” I made a beeline for shore, faking calm while my insides shook. Bren didn’t follow, and I cast a quick glance at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. Was he as mortified as I was, or did he think this was funny? Probably the latter. My nails dug into my palms.

  Pulling myself onto dry land, I took stock of the shadowed faces. The moon didn’t want to give up their features tonight. Lars was front and center, and what appeared to be his closest allies clustered around him. A tall, feminine figure caught my eye next. Catanna. Her hands weren’t on her hips like usual. They were . . .

  I blanched at the sight. She had Iris in front of her, and the poor girl was trembling. Without hesitation, I pushed past Lars on my way over to her. His hand streaked toward my wrist, but I was ready this time. I slapped my arm to my side and spun, capturing his wrist with my other hand. Then I squeezed. Hard. Harder. Until my fingers whimpered a protest. But I didn’t dare let go.

  Shoving up against him, I deliberately carved into his skin with my chipped fingernails. “Don’t touch me,” I snarled, practically spitting in his ear. “Or I will invent a special kind of pain just for you.”

  He chuckled. “You’re getting me all hot and bothered, Mute. We can cuddle, if that’s what you’re pining for.” I stepped back and released his limb as if it was covered in maggots. His grin was disgusting.

  I faced Catanna. “What are you doing with Iris?”

  She shrugged delicately. “It’s initiation night. The little weakling doesn’t know how to swim. We’re going to teach her.”

  My blood boiled. “You’ll have to get through me first.” Several guffaws. I was so dead. They could see straight through my bravado to the squirming mess within. And I didn’t have anyone to protect my back.

  Lars sauntered up behind me. “That’s the plan, Mute.” He must have signaled Catanna because she dragged a sniffling Iris toward the water. I lurched forward but Lars clamped onto my arms and bent them together until my elbows were almost touching. I cried out as my shoulder muscles stretched too thin.

  Bren roared. “Let her go, you piece of—”

  The smack of bone hitting flesh drowned out his next words. Lars’s hands fell away and I stumbled to the ground.

  In a flash, I raced for the lagoon where Catanna already had Iris submerged chest high. Just as I reached the water’s edge, Catanna shoved the girl’s head under the surface.

  “No!” I jumped in. Five seconds. Ten. Hold on, hold on. Fifteen seconds. I tangled my fingers in Catanna’s hair and yanked. She screeched, shrill and long, but didn’t let go of Iris. I kept pulling until a chunk of hair ripped free of Catanna’s scalp.

  Her blazing eyes whipped my way. “You’re dead!” She released the girl and fixed her claws into my shirt. With a shove, she dunked me in the water. This I could deal with. I could hold my breath a lot longer than Iris could.

  I hooked a leg around Catanna’s and rolled; I felt the moment she lost her balance. My fingers groped for the hidden pants pocket as I planted my boots on the lagoon’s floor and shot to the surface, dragging Catanna up with me by her hair. With a flick, my blade was at her graceful throat. “Enough.” I dragged in a breath of victory.

  Iris was sputtering not far from us, but she was alive. Thank the stars. And then she pointed toward shore. “Bren.”

  That’s when I heard it. Thump. Grunt. Thwack. Groan. “You shouldn’t have chosen her, outsider.” Cackling laughter.

  I scanned the area where Lars had grabbed me, and my heart plummeted. Four trainees held Bren in place while Lars railed at his face, ribs, and stomach. After a roundhouse kick to the gut, Bren thudded to his knees. And then a flash of silver. Lars had a weapon. I couldn’t breathe. All it took was a flick of the wrist and Bren’s cheek split open.

  “Lars, don’t!” Panic crashed into me and I almost loosed Catanna. But my brain functioned just enough to cement me in place.

  Iris. I had to protect Iris.

  A great weight pressed on my chest as I watched, helpless. Lars pointed his knife at Bren’s heart. No, no, no. Tears fell in droves down my face. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t end like this, with Bren thinking I hated him. Thinking I didn’t . . .

  I felt sick. Bile laced the roof of my mouth. An image popped into existence, blinding me from my surroundings. And yet, I was seeing the same setting—just not the same events. The image whirred to life, in it a scene of Lars jamming his knife into Bren’s chest.

  The scene faded and I was left gaping, blinking away the afterimage. That had never happened before.

  My body shuddered as it righted itself, as the here and now sharpened into focus. And there was Lars, his knife still hovering over Bren. But the knife wasn’t in his chest. It was poised, ready to strike. It was descending . . . I sucked in air and let it burst forth in a blood-curdling scream.

  The knife paused.

  Everyone gaped.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Dead silence, except for the vestiges of my scream echoing across the water. At first, I feared that a trainer or guard had heard the commotion. But out from behind a tree stepped Ryker. I frowned. Ryker? His boots were soundless as he made his way to Lars. The two men assessed each other, and whatever Lars saw made his feet shift nervously.

  “Just a little fun,” Lars tossed out casually. “These two tried to interfere with our initiation night, and things got a bit heated. It’s all under control, though. No harm, no foul.” He slowly slinked backward, knife nowhere in sight.

  Ryker just stared, his black tattoo stark against his pale neck. “Break it up or you’ll all be reported.”

  That was all the trainees needed to hear. They bled into the night. Catanna squirmed in my grasp and I let her go. “This isn’t over, Princess,” she hissed, and disappeared from sight. My shoulders sagged. I looked to Ryker—he was staring at me intently. No, intensely. All words froze on my tongue. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d appreciate a thank you. A second later, he faded from view, leaving me and Iris and Bren.

  “Bren,” I breathed, treading water. When I made it to shore, he was slumped over, hair covering his face. My fingers itched to brush the strands aside. I kneeled in front of him and reached a hand out despite myself. “Are you . . . are you okay?”

  Slowly, his head lifted, and I caught sight of his eyes. They weren’t sad. They weren’t angry. They weren’t even laughing. They were . . . “I knew you still cared.” He smiled softly.

  “I’m guessing you have first aid supplies stashed away in here somewhere?”

  I had sent Iris to my dorm room and told her to lock the door. Now I was in Bren’s room, a complete ball of nerves. The gray box looked the same as mine, only it smelled of him. I refused to breathe any more than necessary. I’d never been in a man’s room before. It was awkward. And forbidden. But after what we’d just endured, I couldn’t care less. A growing part of me felt out-of-control reckless at the moment, adrenaline still simmering in my blood.

  “Yeah, in there.” From a slightly slouched position on his bed, Bren gestured at a dresser. His eyes tracked me as I walked to it and pulled open the top drawer. I withdrew a kit and involuntarily jerked at what lay underneat
h.

  A book.

  A real, leather-bound book.

  I slammed the drawer closed as if it contained a venomous serpent, upsetting a cup on the dresser’s surface. My free hand snatched it midair and I returned it with a bit too much force.

  “Nice catch.”

  I didn’t respond, my brain too busy calculating. Books weren’t allowed in the city because of their power—I hadn’t seen a book in years. According to Renold, societies fell when the citizens filled their minds with knowledge. The influx of ideas made them discontent and prone to riots. The penalty for possessing a book was imprisonment. I didn’t know what happened to the prisoner after that. They were never seen again.

  What if . . .

  I hated myself for even thinking it, but thoughts of revenge flooded my mind. All the pain Bren had caused me. If I reported the book, would Renold finally trust me? Would he relieve me of Bren duty? Would he stop the abuse?

  My greatest competition in the Trials would be eliminated.

  A battle waged in my head. What kind of person would I be if I betrayed for vengeance, to increase my chances of survival? But doing nothing, after all I’d suffered, left a sour taste on my tongue. Grimacing, I turned to find Bren staring at me. He scanned every inch of my face and I squirmed like a worm on a hook. It was as if he could sense my inner turmoil and gauged which course of action I would take.

  I pulled up a chair in front of him and opened the kit. My hands kept busy, distracting me from my thoughts. Nervous energy assaulted me as I prepared to clean the cut on his cheek. But I pushed through the mire of discomfort and wiped at the blood. Bren winced, and I pursed my lips, lightening my touch.

  His gaze was pinned on my face; my skin heated. I shifted on the chair, aching to dispel the charged silence. “The cut,” I blurted. “It’s not that bad. I think I can just glue it shut. Good thing I don’t need to give you stitches because you would probably lose an eye.”

  He laughed softly. “I would risk it just to have you near.”

  A tremor began in my fingers, and I stopped cleaning the wound. I stared as a thin trail of blood trickled down to his jaw. My brain was a riot of tangled knots. After all I’d put him through this month. After all the harsh words. He still wanted to be near me? Against my better judgment, I peered into his eyes. They were as serious as they could be while still allowing a faint lopsided smile.

  He inched a hand toward my face and, before I could move, his fingers gently glided over my cheek. Inwardly I screamed at myself for not pulling away, but outwardly I didn’t flinch. As he picked up a lock of hair and smoothed it behind my ear, inward and outward held no meaning—only the tender touch mattered. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how desperately I missed being near him like this. It wasn’t like our training sessions, which were brutal and savage. No, this was . . .

  I should hate it.

  It was against the rules.

  I wanted more.

  Oh no.

  I shot up from the chair and Bren followed suit. No. I shook my head and retreated a step. I couldn’t do this. Not again.

  Ever so carefully, he reached between us. I froze, eyes wide. Warmth enveloped my fingers and palms as he laced our hands together. I didn’t pull away. I could feel myself weakening, caving.

  Stars above, save me.

  He softly tugged on my hands and drew me closer. Bending his head, he captured me with his pleading gaze. “I miss you so much. Come back to me, little bird.”

  Right then, something in me cracked. The many weeks of silence and anger between us hadn’t stopped my feelings for him—time had only forced them into a state of hibernation. Now the feelings were thawing and I was scared out of my mind. How could I still care for him after all he had done to me?

  His expression changed then. Oh stars, I was staring at determination as he said, “How about a compromise?” I raised a brow at the question, the same one I had asked him a month ago. He charged ahead. “A secret for a secret. Trust is a scary thing, but you can’t move forward if you don’t take that first step. I already revealed a secret to you: I have a book. I’m entrusting you with that knowledge even though you could report me.”

  So, he knew, yet he had still allowed me to see the illegal book. What game was he playing at now? I fought with myself. I should keep things as they were. If all went according to plan, I would be far from this city in a little over a month and would never see Bren again.

  And then another scenario pushed its way to the forefront of my mind. What if one of us died in the Trials? All this pain and betrayal and bitterness would be pointless if one of us died. I could feel myself considering the compromise he’d offered. The very real concept of death in my near future hung like angry dark clouds over my head.

  Spine straightening, I gripped his hands as if they were the only thing holding me in place. Actually, they were. My heart hammered in my chest so hard it hurt. I drew in a shaky breath. Reckless. Here went nothing. “At the lagoon earlier, if my scream hadn’t alerted Ryker, Lars would have plunged that knife into your chest.” Stars, what was I doing? This was insane. He’s going to think I’m insane!

  I hardened my jaw and locked eyes with his, daring him to laugh at me. My body quaked at the thought, yet my brain wildly buzzed at having revealed a secret to my possible enemy. The familiar rush of adrenaline pumped through my veins and I fought the urge to cackle like a maniac. I really was insane.

  Bren looked thunderstruck. “How do you know that? Are you sure you didn’t just imagine him doing such a thing?”

  “No, I didn’t imagine it, you big giant idiot. I saw it! And if you dare report this to Renold, I will hunt you down and stick a knife in your chest myself.” This was it. Right here, right now. I was finally unhinged. Truth came at a terrible price, and I would kill him if he betrayed me this time. Because if I didn’t kill him, I would ultimately die of a pierced heart.

  He gaped at me, his face turning a sickly shade of yellow. “It’s not possible,” he breathed.

  “What’s not possible? That I saw you get stabbed or that you reported me? Because both are true.” My hands squeezed his so fiercely, I could barely feel them.

  “I would never report you to Renold. Get that through your head, Lune Tatum!” he growled.

  With a snarl, I dropped his hands and latched onto his shirtfront, jerking my body against his. “Don’t call me that! And you’re lying. A month ago—the day you went to see Renold—you sold me out. You—you betrayed me all over again!”

  “What?” Bren’s voice was weak with astonishment. My breath expelled from me in harsh pants and I dug my fingers more securely into his shirt. Memories of the torture I went through, the physical and emotional pain of that day—the constant agony every day since knowing Bren had duped me again—was a slap to my face. I couldn’t do this. It hurt too much, like someone was ripping my chest open.

  I released his shirt and dashed for the exit.

  “Oh no you don’t.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and swept me off my feet, spinning my body around to face him once more.

  “Let go of me, you insufferable liar,” I ground out through bared teeth, the sting of tears threatening.

  His lips thinned and his hand tightened on the back of my shirt. “Not until you hear me out. At least now, after an entire month of being left in the dark, I have something to work with. Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I would never betray you. I swear it’s not possible. No way could I hurt you like that.”

  “Oh, really?” I cried. My heart was breaking into a million pieces. How could he keep lying? Didn’t he see what it was doing to me? Tears burned down my cheeks and I raged at them. But they wouldn’t stop, and so I didn’t stop. I opened my big mouth and spewed words I wasn’t ready to say. “You know that little girl you couldn’t save, the one I remind you of? Why did you make her trust you and then let her get kidnapped? Why did you betray her?”

  In the next moment, his expression mirrored my own.
>
  Complete horror.

  Everything stopped. Time, thought, breathing. It all stopped.

  Then he sucked in air. “Lune.” His eyes widened as they raced over my face. “How did you know that she had been kidnapped?”

  My lips parted. I’d revealed too much. No, no, this couldn’t be happening. I hadn’t meant to—

  I wrenched away from his grip only for his hands to clamp down on my shoulders, pinning me in place. “Lune.” I dug my teeth into my lip. He shook me, his expression bald panic. “Lune, tell me!”

  I was done. I couldn’t hold the hurt in any longer, even though I should. I knew someone would probably hear and report me for being in this room, but I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t . . . Eleven years of suppressed emotion sprang free. I exploded, screamed my pain right at his face. “Because it was me!”

  A choked sob burst from my throat, the sound of infinite heartache. My soul was bared as I finally unearthed the thing between us. “I’m the girl who haunts you, Bren. The girl you tricked and betrayed. You sold me out to the Recruiter Clan and I never saw my mother again. I’ve been stuck in this place for eleven years because of you!”

  His hands began to shake and he snatched them back as if I were fire. No, as if I were a ghost made solid. His skin was gray ash, eyes dim ember. He placed a hand on his chest, directly over his heart, and his fingers curled into his shirt like claws. “No.” He stumbled back a foot, then two. “No, no, no . . .” He repeated the word several more times as if it would erase my admission. Oh, how I wished it could.

  “Please,” he croaked. He raised a trembling hand toward me. “It—it can’t be you. Not you. Please tell me it’s not you.”

  My chin wobbled at the gut-wrenching despair in his voice. Nothing about this moment was fake. It was all too heartbreakingly real. Another scalding tear trailed down my face as I fumbled for the cord at my neck. I should have destroyed the thing a long time ago, but for reasons beyond my understanding, here it was. And here I was. And here he was. We had come full circle in this game of lies and bitterness, betrayal and revenge.