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

by Becky Moynihan

  The dark spots shifted into the shape of Bren’s face and I frowned. Was Bren dead, too? I gasped in pain, lungs burning. Tears welled and spilled over. Not Bren. I choked on a sob. “No. Please, no.”

  “Don’t move,” he ordered. He didn’t sound happy about being dead. He sounded . . . scared. I sucked in air too fast, coughing most of it out. The movement hurt. I hurt all over, actually. Bren wasn’t looking at my face anymore. His intense focus was on my stomach. Shaky yet determined, I strained to raise my head. He unbuckled my vest and peeled away the leather to reveal a gray shirt soaked in blood.

  I half cried, half laughed. “I’m alive. You—you’re alive.” I was smiling and frowning, tears falling, but I was alive. Bren had saved me. The pain became manageable as I held onto that thought. Then he lifted my shirt hem and cold air rushed over my torn flesh. I hissed, clenching my jaw.

  “Breathe, Lune.” He had on his doctor face as he hiked the shirt higher, baring my bruised ribs. His lips turned bloodless.

  “Are . . . are my intestines still in there, Doc?”

  He glanced at me sharply, then cracked a wobbly grin. “Was that a joke?”

  “Maybe. I do feel lighter though, like something fell out along the way or—or got squished.”

  That got him chuckling and my muscles slightly uncoiled. But when he rocked back on his heels and unbuckled his vest, removing it along with the gray shirt underneath, my stomach muscles cramped. That chest, those abs, right there in front of me. So much more perfect up close.

  “You’re going to set me on fire with that stare,” he said, tone a bit cocky. My eyes snapped to his, horrified. If I wasn’t in such pain, I would no doubt . . . He leaned forward, whispering, “You’re adorable when you blush.”

  I groaned. Maybe death would be a mercy.

  The sound of fabric ripping was a welcome distraction. Bren tore off the entire bottom half of his shirt, hands gentle yet efficient as they wound the makeshift bandage around my midsection. I tried not to think about the fact that he was looking at and touching my bare stomach. A stomach covered in blood. Ugh. His eyes briefly flicked to mine. “Since the animals seem to like you so much, all this blood isn’t helping matters.” He paused. “Something about this seems off.”

  “You think?” I snickered, then flinched as the action stretched my wounds. I turned serious at his continued frown. “What seems off?”

  He tied the bandage and lowered my shirt. “The way they entered the building, as if they could sense you were in there.”

  “Me?” I squeaked. “But didn’t the girl lead the cats to us by accident?” My breath caught. “Is she . . . ?”

  His head lowered. “No, she didn’t make it. Sadly, she was just in their way. Those animals were after you, Lune.”

  “Well that isn’t creepy or anything,” I muttered and dug my elbows into the cement as I attempted to sit up. The dead cat was sprawled next to me, a blue arrow protruding from the back of its skull. I shuddered. My adrenaline was wearing off, leaving me with way too much feeling—mostly pain. Even with cold rain pelting my skin, sweat stung my eyes. “Help me up,” I panted, hating the weakness. But I needed him. I could only hope he wouldn’t be my downfall.

  He grunted. “Something tells me you won’t listen if I ask you to rest for a few minutes. You were almost gutted, you know.” I leveled a stare at him, letting my eyes do the speaking. He stood and buckled on his vest and quiver, grumbling, “Worst patient ever.”

  I was only sad to see his bare skin covered once more.

  Ever so carefully, he scooped me up, and I marveled at the ease of it, as if I weighed nothing at all. He’s carrying me and I’m awake. That’s a first. He slowly released my legs, keeping an arm wrapped around me as I regained my balance. We stayed that way for several seconds, and Bren didn’t seem in a hurry to move anytime soon. I sighed. “I have to go. There’s still eight more beasts out there and two other contenders hunting for them. I can’t let them get ahead. I can’t let them win this Trial. You . . . you know what this means to me, Bren.”

  He tensed. Then his shoulders fell. “Yeah. I know. But I’m scared that you’d rather die than walk away without the win, and that kills me, Lune. Kills me.”

  The confession punched a hole through my chest. I held my tears in; they trickled down my throat instead. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. It was the only comfort I could give. I’d known from the beginning that death might be my only form of freedom from this place.

  His eyes narrowed, forearm flexing against my back. “Not good enough. I want you to live. I need you to.”

  “But don’t you see? Trapped in this city, I die a little every day. How is that living?”

  “You have me. And Asher and Iris. You’re not alone, little bird, and that’s what you continually fail to see.”

  The rain’s patter and soft rustle of the tall grass I crouched in should have been soothing. No padding of animal paws. No screaming or growling. But all I could hear was a word—just one.

  Fail.

  He might as well have shouted it. At every turn I was confronted with that word. It was my very own personal wall. Yes, I failed to see the people in front of me. Yes, I failed to detect foe from friend. But after a decade spent in a city of lies, I didn’t know what trust meant anymore.

  So how then could I not feel alone?

  Even now, knowing Bren was hunkered down in another patch of grass across the clearing, I still felt isolated. He had tricked me, had kidnapped me, had stood up for me, had saved me. He had chased my nightmares away. Had cared for me, gently and without judgment. In my heart, I knew I’d forgiven him for lying to me all those years ago, for being the cause of my imprisonment. Whatever his reasons, he wasn’t the same person he once was. People could change.

  At least, I hoped so. With all my soul, I hoped so.

  Because I was trusting him right now, to have my back and fight fair, and to not steal the win. And to not steal my heart and then break it. Please don’t break my heart, Brendan Bearon. He had been so certain the beasts would find me, not the other way around. Had all but begged me to stay in that dark cement building. But I couldn’t. I needed wide open spaces where I could run or climb or hide, if I so chose. And I couldn’t stand to be trapped under the same roof as a dead girl.

  So I left, and he had followed me.

  I had found a spot in the heart of Arcus Point, heavily wooded with a small clearing of pale gold grass at its center. Several trees were nearby—climbable trees. I was itching to climb one right now.

  Before I had the chance to so much as twitch, the sound of snapping twigs echoed in the clearing. For what felt like an eternity, I couldn’t tell if the noise was animal or human, but the harsh panting that came a few seconds later eased my fears. Human. A very loud human. In fact, they were being too loud, going too fast. My pulse sped up and I gripped my bow tighter.

  I was about to find out what else lurked in this cage.

  A wild-eyed man crashed into the clearing, and my flight instinct kicked in. My legs shook with their need to flee, but I inhaled a breath and released it slowly, inhaled another, refusing to budge. Halfway into the expanse of near waist-high grass, the man dropped out of sight as if he’d fallen into a pit. I strained to glimpse him through the pale stalks, finally catching the glint of a lacquered bow as he prepared to shoot. But shoot what?

  He was aiming at a bush. A bush that was morphing into charcoal gray fur and bright yellow, intelligent eyes. My breath stalled. A magnawolf. It was huge. Probably weighed more than Bren. The man shot and the beast exploded into the air, sailing above the arrow which thudded harmlessly into a tree. Bravery points went to the man. He held his ground as the magnawolf landed and began pacing in front of him, looking for a weak spot.

  I contemplated remaining still. It didn’t feel right interfering, possibly killing the beast under the man’s nose. But this was a competition, after all. I crept forward, just a few inches, and that’s when I saw them: two black magn
awolves to the left of the clearing. And they weren’t looking at the man. They were looking at me.

  Oh. Stars.

  “Lune, get out of there!” Bren bellowed as he sprung from his hiding spot.

  The urgency in his voice set my legs into motion. I whirled, plunging through the grass toward the trees. As I ran, I spared a second to sling my bow across my back. It would be of no use to me. Not right now. Not when every hair on my body stood on end, warning me to run, run, run, and not look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back! One of the beasts yelped, as if in pain, letting me know just how close they were on my heels.

  All my attention was on a large oak tree, namely the low-hanging branch within arm’s reach. I barreled toward it, planted a foot on the trunk, and launched myself at the branch. I only had one shot at this. My fingernails gouged into bark as I scrambled upward, pulling, grunting, shaking. My stomach and ribs were hot and aching, my head a swarm of bees, but I was soon standing on the branch, bow in one hand, arrow in the other.

  Two black streaks raced toward me, only yards away. Quick breath in, sight down the arrow, and release. The beast on the right crashed to the ground—instant death with an arrow protruding from its eye socket. My heart leapt, elated, only to stop when the other magnawolf kept coming. It was going too fast. It would hit the tree, or . . .

  Crap.

  It sprang off the trunk into the air, wide open mouth aimed for my legs. The moment came slowly. I watched, stupefied, as two-inch-long canines sunk into my left calf, as the sensation of being tugged had my boots slipping, as my body floated to the ground. The impact of landing on top of the animal woke me up. In a flash, I rolled, but its fangs were still in my skin. The beast jerked me backward and shook its head. The pain of tearing flesh was debilitating.

  I cried out, flopping onto my back, and made a vain attempt at kicking it. The teeth unclenched. Stunned, I didn’t react, and in the next moment, a black muzzle filled with razor-sharp fangs lunged for my face. On instinct, I squeezed my eyelids shut, not wanting to see the moment of my death. But it didn’t happen. My arms quaked under a terrible writhing weight, holding aloft a thing that sunk closer and closer toward my face—whining, growling, panting. It stunk like old bloody meat.

  My eyes flew wide.

  I was gripping my bow. A stick of wood was all that separated me from an animal consumed with a need to sink its maw into skin and bone, all to feast on flesh and blood. I pushed against the weight with every last ounce of strength, determination, and terror left in my worn-out body. I was not going to end up as dog food. My arms dipped, weary from the strain, and I was forced to turn my head as teeth grazed my cheek.

  I snarled, furious at the world for its cruelty. The beast was going to eat me alive and I wouldn’t have the strength to stop it.

  Strange sounds left its throat—hacking, coughing, gagging—but I couldn’t see what was happening. My head was still twisted to the side. Its long tongue lolled and brushed against my cheek. I whimpered, tears leaking past my closed lids. I didn’t want to die. Not as a rare steak. Then came a series of moans and dry heaves, popping and cracking. And one loud crunch.

  The noise was so awful, bile rushed up my throat and I sputtered, sucking in short gasps. The weight lifted after that, but I couldn’t move my arms. They were numb, welded to the bow. Hands ran up and down my body. They tried to take away my bow, but my fingers were vices.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay.” The cadence of Bren’s voice was less than reassuring, but his presence made up for it, even if his eyes looked wild with fright. “Where are you injured?”

  “Everywhere.” I chortled, which became a cough, which became a groan.

  He saw the blood soaking through my pant leg, and despite how carefully he rolled up the stiff material, I couldn’t hold back a small cry. The bite burned something fierce.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed, face stricken.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  His tortured gaze met mine. “Isn’t it? You wouldn’t be in here, if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t—” He cut himself off. It was becoming a bad habit.

  My mouth worked silently. I didn’t know what to say, anyway. He was right. When I didn’t reply, he got to work on my leg, pulling out the torn gray shirt he’d tucked into his vest. Smart. Patching me up was becoming a full-time job. Always a good idea to carry extra bandages around. Finally, I spoke, unable to stand that guilt-ridden expression a moment longer. “You know, we really need to stop meeting like this.”

  He blinked at me. “Like what?”

  “With me lying on the ground while you try putting me back together. It’s getting cliché.”

  A choked laugh left him, and I breathed easier. Then his mouth turned white around the edges. “It hurts me seeing you in pain and helpless.”

  My heart melted at the honest words. But he was getting too serious again. Him hurting over my pain was making the pain even worse. So, I fixated on one word. “You think I’m helpless?”

  His lips twitched. “Okay, maybe not helpless.”

  I relaxed. “Good. I thought I’d need to remind you what I’m capable of, and that wouldn’t be very fun for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” his voice deepened, and my pulse jumped. Stars above, how did he do that?

  I needed a distraction before we both did something incredibly stupid, like make out in the middle of beast-infested woods while time raced on without us. My gaze outlined his lips as I contemplated the possibility. No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. “I’ve got two kills. How many do you have?” There. That was a safe topic. Sort of.

  Those sinful lips stretched into a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Brendan Bearon, don’t you dare hold out on me.” Too late, I realized I’d used the wrong word. He always dared. If I wasn’t so busy skewering him with a death glare, I would have rolled my eyes.

  But he surprised me by actually answering. “Don’t worry, I have the same as you. That guy in the clearing killed the gray magnawolf.”

  At the news, several emotions flooded my body: relief that another contender didn’t die because of my hesitation, satisfaction that Bren didn’t have more kills than me, and a wedge of guilt that I could only think of them as competition—not people.

  I forced myself into a sitting position and reached for Bren’s hands, stilling their ministrations. He watched me, a line bisecting his brows as I finished securing the bandage before wiggling my pant leg down. I painfully got to my feet. By the way his hands were fisted, I could tell my unexpected actions troubled him. Hurt him even. And I hated myself for causing him pain. But I had to finish this.

  Alone.

  “I have to go, Bren.”

  He stood, slowly, carefully. “And I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not.” My head pounded. This was harder than I thought it would be. “You need to let me go.”

  His face contorted as if I’d just sucker-punched him. “I can’t. Not this time.”

  I was the worst person in the world for what I had to do next. The only thing I could do. This was the only way. I stepped into his personal space, fingers fisting his vest, and stood on tiptoe, placing my lips near his ear. “You will. If you care about me at all, you will.” A warning. Maybe even a threat. I was sick. I took a step back, fully intent on leaving without another word or glance, but my traitorous heart couldn’t bear to walk away without one last glimpse of his face.

  A part of me died, shriveled to dust when I saw the gutted look he was giving me, like I’d fatally wounded him. I held it together until I was out of sight, then the tears came, fast and blinding. My chest was a hollow pit. I was poison. It was better this way. He said I was beautiful and strong, that even my scars were something to be proud of, but I knew the truth of the matter. I was swimming in fear every second of every day, and I would do anything to break free of this prison.

  Even if it meant hurting him.

&nbs
p; I would probably die in here tonight, but at least my conscience wouldn’t hold the burden of taking Bren down with me.

  My chest tightened and I gasped, fingers kneading the ache. I never should have let him get so close to my heart. The organ bleated pathetically as I widened the gap separating us, until all I could hear was sizzling rain and slogging footfalls. Think. I needed to think. Without a plan of action, I would no doubt stumble into one or more of the remaining beasts and get my head ripped off. Or maybe they would toy with me and prolong my death.

  I shoved the morbid thoughts away. To distract my brain from thinking of death, or Bren, I pondered over the strange visions I’d had recently. They were sporadic and unexpected; they brought a whole new dimension to the gut warnings I’d had for years. In them, I could see exactly what would happen next if I didn’t react quickly. How did they happen? How did they work?

  I stopped walking and leaned against a tree to rest my throbbing leg and head and stomach. I throbbed all over. After a quick perimeter check, I let my eyes slide shut. Concentrated. Focused. On seeing what was impossible to see.

  The future.

  My mouth twitched. I wanted to laugh at my foolishness. There was a good chance I was being tracked, and not just by mutant beasts. Cameras were positioned all over the inside of the Arcus Point cage, and soundless camouflaged drones too tiny to see, unless you knew where to look. Was the city watching me even now, wondering what I was doing? Perhaps they thought I’d given up.

  I fine-tuned my senses to that of the remaining beasts. Where were they? How many were left? Focus, focus, focus. And then, in the span of a blink, my stomach bottomed out and I was staring into the face of a monster. I’d never seen anything so huge or hideous. Its eye sockets appeared empty, the pupils large and opaque. The muzzle was bent as if caving under the weight of countless teeth. Then the vision threw me backward. I helplessly flew past trees and buildings and rusted objects. But no, my body was going through them, as if I were a ghost.

  Stars above, what was happening?