The Founders

by Dylan Steel

  His fists clenched. “As long as things stay the same, in order to save some, I have to accept that I can’t save them all. The Quorum wouldn’t hesitate to strip my title if they thought I was Lawless or even overly sympathetic to those not worthy. What influence would I have then?”

  “That can’t be true,” Sage argued. “They wouldn’t—”

  “Have you already forgotten what happened to my parents?” Anger flashed bright behind his eyes. “None of their actions reflected poorly on them, and they were still found out.”

  Sage’s face reddened. She dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be upset with you for—It’s in the past.” Weston’s jaw twitched, and Sage’s stomach twisted with guilt. Did he really not know that she was the reason his mother had been found out? “I’m just trying to explain. It’s not easy for me to accept my limitations either.”

  “So why are you telling me all this? Why take me to the factory at all? Aren’t you afraid Grayson will find out?”

  “Grayson has never so much as acknowledged the existence of the factory. He considers it too far below him and won’t even entertain rumors that stem from there. And on the remote chance that he did, I would simply adjust the explanation already prepared should you choose not to join the Lawless. But I’d think it was obvious why I wanted you to see what happened there today.” His shoulders sagged a little. “I wanted you to see that I’m doing everything I can. I don’t want you to keep thinking I’m a monster.”

  Sage looked away, pulling the blanket a little higher around herself as chills spilled over her shoulders and down her arms. “I don’t think you’re a monster,” she said quietly, unable to meet his gaze. She shifted in her seat. “I just wish you’d let me go.”

  “If only it were that simple.” He shot to his feet and began pacing restlessly before letting out a slow breath. “Do you remember the explosion at the Cabinet?”

  “The attack in the city?” She nodded. Of course she remembered. She’d gone looking for Everett that day and might’ve died from smoke inhalation if he hadn’t found her first. “You were behind it,” she said dully.

  “No.”

  Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “But it was the Lawless. Everyone knows it.”

  “It was the Lawless, but I wasn’t behind it.”

  She crossed her arms. “If I’m remembering correctly, your father wasn’t around a few months ago. That leaves you.”

  “Not quite.” Weston’s voice deepened, bordering on impatience, and she snapped her mouth shut. His fists flexed at his sides. “It was an old order. From my father. Set in motion with the Rogues before I took over. They didn’t bother to see if the plan had changed under new leadership. I didn’t know about it until after it happened.”

  “And you would’ve stopped it?” Sage watched him nervously. She wasn’t used to seeing him out of control like this.

  Fury built behind Weston’s eyes. “He risked people’s lives unnecessarily. It was an act of war—one which we weren’t prepared for and one that didn’t account for the full cost of his actions.”

  “So that’s a yes,” she said softly.

  His nostrils flared. He continued as if he hadn’t heard her at all. “I suspect it was a contingency plan of his all along. For all his virtues and for all he added to the cause, he was always incredibly stubborn. He often only saw one path forward. That’s why—” He stopped, shooting Sage a tortured look.

  “Why what?”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “That’s why he gave the order to have you kidnapped.”

  “It was him?” Her heart sank with the realization.

  “He was the one behind the whole plan. Everyone who knew had to get on board or worry about having their identities compromised with the Quorum.”

  “He blackmailed his own people?” Sage’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Small sacrifices for the greater good,” Weston said icily.

  “Sounds like a pattern,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Yes. It was.” Sadness spread over his face.

  “And it wasn’t your mother,” she added slowly, understanding the magnitude of what she’d actually done when she’d turned in Sophia Bennick.

  “No. It’s understandable why you would’ve thought that though. She told me she spoke to you.”

  Sage barely noticed a tear escape her eye as she nodded stiffly, fingers clenched tightly. She felt numb.

  Weston spun toward her, dropping to his knees in front of her. Pain filled his eyes as he took her hands in his. Her stomach twisted unexpectedly.

  “I didn’t know anything about it until after it was done. I swear.”

  She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I believe you.”

  Her answer seemed to be a balm to his soul as he relaxed his grip on her hands slightly, continuing, “My father sometimes forgot the real mission of the Lawless. And honestly, it became worse without my mother around to balance his zealousness.”

  “I thought the real mission of the Lawless was to destroy Eprah. No matter the cost,” Sage added with a hint of bitterness, ignoring the sting from hearing his mother mentioned again.

  “Of course we want to destroy Eprah. But it’s not enough.” Weston shook his head. “If that were our only goal, things would be simple. We could blow up the entire city and start over with a few survivors. But the point—the whole point—is that we do not play at being gods with others’ lives. Each person has value because they live—because they exist—because they are.”

  He dropped his eyes in shame. “My father forgot that. He’d become impatient fighting from the shadows, and he wanted change. But while there may come a time when the people of Eprah stir awake and are ready to fight for their own lives and freedom, it cannot be forced on them by further threatening their lives—by continuing to treat them as disposable. We cannot effect true, lasting change by employing the same tactics Eprah uses.”

  “They’re not all asleep,” she whispered. Everett had been willing to fight. And for Nic to have gotten her a forged bracelet—even he had to at least realize Eprah wasn’t always right.

  “But many are. Too many.” Weston stood, running a hand through his hair.

  Sage chewed her lip. She couldn’t disagree.

  “I’m not my father.”

  Her eyes darted to his, her brow tightening at the sudden declaration. “I know.”

  “Do you?” Weston studied her carefully, watching as her brow dipped lower in reservation. “You believed in the Lawless cause once. I’m not expecting you to alter your entire mindset—I’m asking you to remember what you once fought for. I’m asking you to forget the way you’ve been wronged by those who are no longer in charge. I’m asking you to trust me—to believe that things can be different. That they can be better.”

  A fresh surge of guilt swelled in her chest. She blinked, dropping her gaze. Even after all his lies, somehow she couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at her like she’d betrayed him—which was exactly what she’d done. Her stomach clenched in revulsion, disagreeing with her idea of unburdening her secret to him.

  But she needed to tell him. He needed to know.

  “Weston…” She forced herself to look up, meeting his eyes. “I’m the one who turned in your mother. I—I made a deal with Mr. Gaztok so I wouldn’t be shunned.” She swallowed hard, adding in a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  He stared back at her, his face an unreadable mask. “I know,” he said quietly.

  She gaped at him. “You—”

  “I suspected, at least. It was the only thing that made any sense. She was too careful to have slipped up any other way.”

  Sage dropped her eyes. “You must hate me,” she murmured.

  “It doesn’t change anything.” He put his hand on hers, stopping its trembling. “My mother knew the risk she was taking. And I understand why you felt you had to do it. I made my peace with it a long time ago. I’
m just glad you trusted me enough to tell me.” A sad smile twitched across his lips. “It’s a step in the right direction at least.”

  Remorse and relief swelled in her throat, constricting it. “I—”

  “Remember when I asked you what you thought about the statue in the hall outside our rooms?” he asked quickly, cutting her off.

  She pressed her lips together as she fought back a new onslaught of tears. Confession time was obviously over. She nodded. The center of the stone bench in the alcove had been shaped into a child stretching his arm up toward something unknown while his legs were trapped by a mess of wild brush.

  “You said it was beautiful but sad.” His eyes locked on hers. “I used to see it the same way, but now—” he stopped.

  “Now?” she asked, unconsciously setting a hand on his arm as he came to a stop in front of her.

  “I see hope.”

  His eyes flicked from her face to her hand, and she pulled back, making a fist as she slouched deeper against the chair. Taking a few steps back, he cleared his throat.

  “I know this is a lot to take in, but I do need you to decide one way or another if this is a fight you want to join or if you want to continue trying to run away.”

  “I—”

  He held up a hand. “You would, of course, be unsuccessful, but I’m not so naïve as to think you wouldn’t continue trying.”

  Sage frowned, staying silent. They both knew it was true.

  “In a way, I admire you for that.” His smile was strained. “That means that Eprah hasn’t beaten you yet. Which is also why I think you’ll fight. You know the injustice in this world, and it tears at your whole being. All the same, you know I can’t allow you to leave with everything you know.”

  Her lips twitched as he turned toward the door. “I… I need some time.”

  He paused with his hand on the door, looking at her thoughtfully. “I understand. And I wish I could give you more. But I need an answer by the end of the week. If you aren’t at Founders’ Day, it will raise questions that I can only answer one way. Your indecision could mean the life of confinement that neither of us wants for you.”

  Her features twisted in anguish, but she forced herself to nod. “Ok.”

  He shot one last pained smile at her before disappearing. The door closed behind him, locking with a soft click as he left her alone with her thoughts.

  If she didn’t make a decision soon, time would decide for her.

  She’d sink into an even deeper prison than she’d ever been in before, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find a way out.

  3. SCARS

  Sage held her arm steady, fist extended. A trail of moisture raced down the sides of her forehead, gathering at the edges of her hairline before spilling over her neck.

  Practicing Bokja was the best way she knew to clear her head, and she needed a clear head badly. Weston was going to demand an answer tonight. There wasn’t any more time to make a decision, but she’d gone back and forth on what to do at least a hundred times. She hated being forced into making a decision. Especially a decision that was likely to cost her life in one form or another either way.

  She pulled back her arm quickly, only to send it shooting forward again with a low hiss through her teeth. Her strike was slower this time. She was getting tired, her movements more sluggish. The smart thing to do would be to conserve her energy.

  Her eyes narrowed. The smart thing to do would be to leave. To bolt as soon as her room was unlocked, no matter who was standing in the doorway. Martha or Eliza, she was pretty sure she could handle easily. Even Jonah or Trey, as long as she could catch them off guard for a moment. But if it was Weston—she really didn’t know if she could make it past him. The few times they’d sparred, he’d beaten her without so much as breathing hard.

  Pivoting on her back leg, she switched to kicks. She swallowed hard, letting her thoughts wander in the other direction as her leg flew into the air.

  Maybe Weston wasn’t as bad as his father, but he’d lied too. How was she supposed to trust someone who’d lied to her over and over again?

  You lied too.

  She dropped into a crouch, bracing herself on her fingertips as her left leg arced in a wide circle just above the ground.

  His lies were worse, she argued with herself as she dropped her heel and dug in, launching herself forward onto her palms. Her legs shot over her head as she flipped back onto her feet, landing in a ready stance.

  Agreeing to be Lawless meant agreeing to whatever Weston demanded of her. A small huff escaped her lips. That wasn’t exactly different than how things had already been going for her since the benefactor had dragged her to his estate and claimed her as his pair.

  His pair. He could’ve demanded a lot more from her.

  She gritted her teeth at the thought, bristling with a challenge. He could try.

  But he hadn’t. He hadn’t required much of her at all, really. And she couldn’t deny that his actions had protected her, even the actions she’d hated. He’d tethered her, but that had just been to keep her from running away. They both knew she wanted to leave Eprah behind altogether and become a Rogue, but he claimed it was too dangerous.

  Right. Maybe. But believing that meant relying on him telling the truth about the Rogues. And he didn’t have the best track record for the truth.

  Still, this whole situation could’ve been avoided if he’d just come clean about who he was and why he cared about protecting her in the first place. It would’ve made things a lot easier. Never mind the fact that it would’ve put him in danger.

  Her fingers curled into a tight fist as she threw another punch at her invisible opponent.

  If she could just get out of this room, she knew she could make it deep into the woods before morning. There was probably even enough time to cross the estate’s property line and find a good hiding place. Her Chances had been reset, but they’d be stripped as soon as she made it beyond the Bennick estate. Thanks to the modifications Weston had made to her bracelet, she wouldn’t be killed, but she would be knocked unconscious for several hours. And if she wasn’t well hidden, Weston would find her and dump her in a cell somewhere. She’d never see the sun again.

  But if she managed to stay hidden until she woke up again, she could actually escape. Really leave. Really live.

  Pausing with her arm outstretched, she panted for breath as she glared at the wall. Her limbs were trembling from exertion.

  Her freedom was almost within reach, but the price of failure had become worse than death. She was sure she’d go insane if she were forced to be hidden away, isolated for the rest of her life.

  Sage drew her leg back, her brows furrowed. She eyed an empty space of floor and lined up a sequence of kicks one after another.

  Or I could… low kick… risk my life… step, step, snap kick… for people… swivel, heel strike… who probably don’t care.

  Become Lawless again.

  Not only had the Lawless lied to her and used her, but they were the reason for the guilt that gnawed at her every night. If they’d only been more transparent, she would’ve known she was condemning an innocent woman to death. Their cause had taken so many people from her that she’d begun to lose count, and they didn’t seem to be making any real progress toward destroying Eprah.

  But if they could destroy Eprah—if they no longer lived under the System of Worth—that would be the truest sort of freedom she or anyone else could hope for.

  Hope. She snorted. When was the last time that had worked out for her?

  Fury built in her chest. The choice in front of her was impossible. Unfair.

  Fire cracked down her muscles as she snapped her foot to the side, connecting with a small vase on the table.

  She winced at the loud crash the breaking glass made, not hearing the door open behind her.

  “Still doing that, huh?” Eliza looked Sage up and down disapprovingly as she wheeled a cart of food into the room. “Guess it doesn’t matter that you
hurt someone doing that before,” she muttered under her breath.

  Sage dropped back a few steps, bending over to pick up the pieces of the vase she’d destroyed. There was no point rushing the door. She was on the far side of the room, and Eliza had already locked it behind her. If she wanted out, she’d need to wait for Eliza to leave.

  “I told you I was sorry about Jonah,” Sage said, shoulders hunched with tension.

  “And yet you keep doing it.”

  The skin on the back of Sage’s neck crawled with irritation. “I don’t see a reason to keep apologizing.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “He survived,” Sage growled. “And for your information, keeping up my practice after graduation has saved my life on at least one occasion.”

  “Probably something you brought on yourself anyways,” Eliza retorted. “You’re a magnet for trouble, aren’t you?”

  “Just because you weren’t good at it doesn’t mean I have to avoid it,” Sage snapped back, taking a guess as she ignored the jab.

  Eliza’s cheeks reddened. “I wasn’t that bad, I just—” Her face screwed up with a growing anger. “No. You know what? I was pretty good considering—” She stopped, seeming to think better of what she’d been about to say. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mumbled.

  “Right.” Sage’s eyes flicked to Eliza’s hands. She was still gripping the cart tightly, clearly uncomfortable being challenged. “Is that why you always wear those gloves? Afraid to get your hands dirty?”

  “It’s winter,” Eliza said quickly.

  “Well, I’m not cold.” Sage crossed her arms, casually shifting her weight to the side.

  Eliza glared at her wordlessly for a moment. “Mr. Bennick asked me to bring you dinner. That’s it. That’s all I have to do. Not stay here and put up with your throppin mess,” she muttered the last words under her breath.

  “Oh, by all means, don’t let me keep you from your amazing life here. Please, don’t let me interrupt your Bennick-worship time.” Sage jabbed her toes against the leg of the table and rolled her eyes.