“Idiots,” Felix mutters before looking back at us. Nodding, he announces confidently, “We got this.”
“What about her?” Ty asks, nodding at me. Finally. They remember my existence.
The six of them stare at me like they don’t know quite what to do with me. In their eyes, I’m just a useless girl. My performance with Tully yesterday probably didn’t help in that regard, either.
“Leave her,” the jerk himself grumbles.
“She can come with me and Richard.” Felix’s gaze steadies on me. “Just keep up. And do what I say.”
My lips compress. I grab my pack and sling it over my shoulder. Nothing I can say will prove that I’m an asset. I’ll just have to show them. “Let’s go.”
We set out at a steady pace. Before I dive into the trees, I pause and look out across the quad, searching for the blue team. My gaze lands on them. They’re heading in the opposite direction. Sean follows at the rear, his face turned in my direction, and I know he’s kept a bead on me this whole time.
I drag a breath deep into my lungs, wishing I could close the distance between us. Wishing we were on the same team. Stupid, I know, that I can still wish for anything in a world, a life, I’ve ceased to hold any control over. I should know better than to wish for anything anymore.
He nods at me once, his gaze sharp, the smoky blue bright and penetrating with a message I’ve heard from him time and again: Watch your back.
Turning, he disappears with the rest of his team, leaving me with mine.
Thankfully, Felix and Richard don’t break into a sprint and I’m able to keep up with them. Or maybe I’m just faster than I was a week ago. I can only have gotten better, faster, stronger. At least I tell myself this, determined to keep up and prove myself. If it kills me, I will. I’ll show them I’m not someone to be overlooked.
Felix moves with one eye on the GPS. We hear shouting in the distance, other carriers acting like morons, crashing around like a herd of elephants in the deepening night. With all that racket, the target will easily evade them. I motion for us to move away from the worst of the noise. Felix nods, agreeing. When Richard starts to speak, Felix punches him in the arm and motions for him to shut up. Apparently, we’re on the same page regarding the need for stealth. The quieter we are, the better our chances.
Leaves rustle nearby and we still.
Richard brandishes his pocketknife, twirling it in his fingers. He’s one of the youngest of us here. Maybe thirteen or fourteen, but he holds the knife with such ease, like it’s an extension of his arm.
The blade glints in the moonlight and I wonder why the weapons were even put in our packs to begin with. A bunch of armed carriers doesn’t strike me as such a great idea.
Initially, I assumed it was a tool, like the flashlight and rope . . . something we might need to use out here in the woods. Now I don’t know. Are we expected to use it on the target?
On each other?
A knot of unease settles into the pit of my stomach as I walk one pace behind the two boys, scanning the press of foliage around us. Knowing we’re not alone out here, the sudden hush is eerie. My skin prickles. Moving as quietly as possible, I slide my pack around and remove my knife, palming the slight weight of it.
Something snaps to our left, and branches rustle again. This time louder. We form a wall and face the direction of the sound.
Three bodies burst through the undergrowth. My stomach lurches at finding myself face-to-face with Zoe and two other boys from her team. In the moonlight, her green eyes are as wild as ever. Of course, they’re armed with their knives. At the sight of me, she lifts hers in a menacing manner.
Felix holds up his hands. “Hey.” His voice is calm, placating. “Easy, there.”
“This is our area,” Zoe hisses, lifting her chin and shaking back her bright red hair as though she wants to make sure he sees her imprint. “Move on.”
Richard snorts. “I didn’t see a sign.”
Zoe’s eyes flash. “Keep moving, runt.” She motions an arm behind them, to the area they already covered.
“How generous,” I mutter, moving past them, Felix and Richard following.
We continue to walk, stepping stealthily, but we’re still too loud. Our boots crack over leaves and twigs. The whoops are few and distant now. Maybe the others have finally figured they have to try for stealth to capture the target.
Richard steps on a branch and it cracks loudly on the air. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I place a hand on his arm, stopping him. Felix turns, silent question in his eyes.
Bending, I unlace my boots and slip them off, leaving my feet clad only in socks. Soundlessly, I tuck my shoes inside my backpack. Felix’s eyes gleam in approval and he and Richard follow suit. On the move again, our steps tread silently. Everything around us is quiet. Too quiet, and I wonder at that. The crickets aren’t even talking anymore.
Somehow, I end up leading the way. Wincing at a sharp rock beneath my foot, I step behind a small copse. Squatting, I motion the boys down low to the ground with me, figuring we have better odds lying in wait and seeing who makes an appearance.
For several minutes, nothing happens. Clouds drift over the moon, plunging us into heavy gloom. We wait, draped in darkness, silence pulsing all around us.
The clouds part suddenly and the moon breaks cover. Once again, a dim glow suffuses the forest. I spot movement ahead. A shadowy shape drops low into some shrubbery, obviously trying to stay clear of the moonlight. I nudge Felix. He nods, seeing the figure, too.
I don’t breathe, waiting for him to make a move again . . . for his sense of security to return. For him to think that he’s safe. That no one watches him.
Just as I begin to doubt whether he’s even still there, he rises. My chest lifts high on an excited breath. My pulse hammers fiercely against my throat.
Our target hunkers lows, inching toward the west. A quick glance at the GPS in Felix’s hand reveals that the perimeter wall is closest in that direction. He’s headed that way, of course. If he gets over the wall, he’s free. He wins.
Richard starts to move, but I stall him with a hand on his arm. Shaking my head, I try to convey that he needs to wait until he comes closer. Watching the dark outline, I carefully remove the rope from my pack. I face forward again and peer through the branches. I hold my hand up, ready to give the signal.
The man moves stealthily, obviously an expert at moving undetected. When he’s as close as he’s going to get, about six feet across from us, I drop my hand. We tear through our copse of trees.
I see a flash of his startled face the second before he turns to run. Richard is fast, tackling him to the ground with a loud grunt.
They struggle. The target stuns Richard with a solid blow to the face that sends Richard into a rage. Like some trigger has been pulled, he starts hitting him wildly. The target tucks himself into a tight ball, his hands shielding his head, pleading, his words gibberish.
“Richard, stop.” I pull the gasping boy back. Richard glares down at him, his look murderous. Easily evidence of his HTS—or that his being here, training with a bunch of older, rougher kids, is making an impression. If you don’t have any violent tendencies, chances are you’ll definitely leave here fully conditioned with them.
“It’s just a game,” I remind him in what I hope is a soothing voice.
Felix snatches the rope from my hands and works quickly to bind the target’s arms. He wraps his upper body in the rope, trapping his arms at his sides and leaving a couple feet of rope for us to lead the prisoner—like a leash.
“C’mon.” Felix rises and tugs him to his feet. “The sooner we get back to camp, the sooner—”
He never finishes his sentence. Another team bursts through the trees and forms a tight circle around us.
My skin pulls, awash with a thousand needle pricks as Jackson steps to the front of three others, two boys and Addy. A slow smile curls his lips. “And you even gift wrapped him for us. How thoughtful.”
&
nbsp; Richard steps in front of the target. “He’s ours.”
Jackson turns his smile on Richard and tries to ruffle his hair. The kid knocks his hand away. “Nice try, but sorry. We’re taking him.”
“No,” I announce grimly.
Jackson’s smile thins but doesn’t evaporate entirely. “Are you going to fight me on this, Davy?” His gaze slides over me. “That could be fun.”
“Yeah,” Addy seconds. Even in this lighting, the pit marks and acne on her face stand out starkly. “That could be real fun.”
My breath falls faster, chest rising with anger. Heat creeps over my face as I stare at the shadowy faces of Jackson and Addy. They’re the same, I realize. Cut from the same cloth. They both think they can do whatever they want—to whomever they want. “We caught him.”
“And I’m taking him.”
Jackson steps past me, reaching for the rope. Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I press the knife against his neck, just below his ear. It’s a reflex. Like the way your leg jumps when your knee is hit just so. Even though it feels as natural as breathing, shock ripples along my every nerve that this is me. That I’m the one holding a knife to someone’s neck.
He freezes even as Addy and the other two boys surge forward. I press the tip deeper.
“Stop,” he bites out at them.
I flick them all a glance, satisfied none look ready to ignore his command.
Without turning to look at me, Jackson asks softly, “What are you doing, Davy?”
“Taking what’s ours.”
“You won’t. You don’t have the nerve—”
And maybe he’s right, but I say, “Want to test me? It’s only your throat.”
“You’ll regret this,” he growls, neck stretched tight against the prick of my knife. But he doesn’t call my bluff. He doesn’t doubt me. And I guess no one would. No one does. Not here. Not among carriers.
Angling my head, I look back at the other three, my gaze lingering the longest on Addy, sensing she’s the most dangerous. “Sit down. On the ground. All of you,” I bark, making certain my voice rings with force.
They lower to the ground. I look at Richard. “Tie them up.”
Eager to comply, he jumps to the task, smiling gleefully. “Make sure you bind them tight. I don’t want them getting free.”
I look at Felix. He stares at me with wide eyes. I jerk my head at Jackson. “Him, too.”
Nodding, Felix steps forward.
“You’ll regret this,” Addy snarls as her thick arms are bound.
“Make it tight,” I instruct, ignoring her. “Don’t want him getting loose.”
Once Felix ties his hands with the rope, I ease the tip of the knife off his neck.
Jackson’s eyes gleam at me in the gloom. “You’re so smart,” he murmurs as Felix forces him to the ground and starts tying his legs. “Right now, you’ve won. But what are you going to do when I’m free?”
I squat down and tap the knife to his nose. Maybe I shouldn’t toy with him, but it feels so good to have the upper hand, even as his eyes flash murder. “I’m not worried about that.” Not the truth entirely. But since I got to this place, all I’ve done is worry. I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since Pollock showed up at my house. It’s nothing new. Just another layer to my anxiety. To the constant fear. “I can take care of myself.” I smile and eye his ropes. “Clearly.”
He doesn’t even wear the phony smile. It’s like that has been cast aside for good. His lip curls over his teeth. “You won’t see me coming.”
A chill flutters across my skin in the warm night. “We’re not supposed to harm each other, remember? This is a training exercise. My behavior will be forgiven, but you come after me in the dark some night . . .” I tsk and shake my head at him. “I don’t think you want to get kicked out of here. Sent to a detention camp. Or worse.”
That smile returns, slow and easy and hateful. I want to slap it off his face.
“It might be worth it. To watch you bleed . . .”
My throat thickens and the prickles are back, breaking out all over my skin. Thankfully, it’s too dark for him to see me clearly. If my face is splotchy and red he can’t tell. No way for him to know that he’s getting to me.
“Come on,” Richard urges, clutching the rope attached to our prisoner.
Snapping from his gaze, Felix takes the lead in front of Richard. Leaving Jackson and his teammates behind, I bring up the rear. No one else stumbles upon us, and we manage to make it back to the main grounds without further incident. Just as we clear the trees, our captive decides to put forth one more effort. He yanks hard on the rope, surprising Richard with a kick to the chest. The boy hits the ground. The target spins and lunges away, but I’m on him, tackling him to the earth.
He grunts and starts talking, his words all a hot mash of sound.
“Come on!” Richard grabs his rope and yanks him to his feet.
Felix offers me his hand. “Let’s finish this.”
Nodding, I accept his hand and rise. When the guards and instructors see us approach, they sound the bell, signaling the end of the game.
We deliver the captive to the waiting guards and watch as the rest of the carriers trickle back toward the main building, many grumbling and scowling. I can’t help but stand proudly, my shoulders pulled back. Tully and the rest of our team joins us, beaming and nodding in approval. Looking at me differently. With respect. After yesterday, this win is significant for me. I’ve proven myself.
I spot Sean and Gil. I breathe easier at the sight of them unharmed. Until that moment, I didn’t realize fear for them had lurked in the back of my mind. Cut loose in the woods with fifty armed carriers, anything could have gone wrong.
Sean’s eyes find me. He grins then, his lips curving in one of his rare smiles. Relief lights his eyes. He’d been worried. For me. Smiling back, I nod at the target, indicating that my team brought him in.
His eyes widen, understanding my meaning. He shoots me a thumbs-up, impressed. I blow on my fingers and brush them against my shoulder.
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, mouthing at me: show-off.
I giggle. Richard looks at me strangely and I instantly sober, facing forward again as the guards take a head count and recount. And recount again. One of them turns to Harris and calls out, “We’re four short.”
“Well, what are you staring at me for? Go find them,” Harris barks.
Felix, Richard, and I swap uncertain looks.
Felix clears his throat. “You’ll find them that way.” He points west.
Harris narrows his gaze on the three of us even as he addresses the guards. “Go. Fetch them.”
We wait in silence for the guards’ return. Harris watches us as though we might make a sudden bolt for it.
Jackson, Addy, and their other two teammates walk ahead of the guards into the quad. One of the guards holds up severed rope for Harris to see. “They were tied up.”
“But otherwise unharmed, I see.” Harris looks back at us questioningly. After a stretch of silence, it becomes clear he expects an explanation.
I lift my chin. “They tried to take the target from us.”
“And you weren’t going to let that happen?”
“No, sir.” I clasp my hands behind my back. “We did what we had to in order to complete the drill.”
“What’s your name?” He glances at Dusty rather than me for a response.
“Davina Hamilton,” she supplies.
“Good job, Hamilton.” His gaze flicks over my entire team that now surrounds me, adding, “Good job, green team.”
Harris’s eyes widen at something behind me.
Curious, I turn, glimpsing the blur of a swinging fist and jerk out of the way. Jackson’s knuckles just graze my jaw. Pain radiates throughout my face, and I stumble back. Felix and Richard catch me, steadying me with their hands.
Looking up, I see Jackson still coming at me. The deceptively friendly mask he always wears is ri
pped free. In its place is simple hate. Hate for me. Clearly, I pushed him past the point of self-preservation.
I scurry back, but he’s headed for me like a charging bull. There’s no breaking him from his course. Richard steps in his path, but Jackson knocks the smaller boy out of the way. Just as he’s about to reach me, Sean cuts across my line of vision in a streak of movement. His body plows into him.
They twist and writhe on the ground. Sean gains the upper hand, pinning Jackson beneath him. The cracking sound of bone on bone reverberates on the air as Sean’s fists connect with Jackson’s face.
I shake my head. Not again.
Guards arrive, their hands seizing Sean by the shoulders and arms, pulling him back. I step forward and press one hand to his chest, trying to ease the tension radiating from him. It’s like he doesn’t see me. His eyes fix on Jackson with blood-hungry intensity.
“Sean,” I hiss, shooting a quick glance over my shoulder at Harris, watching us like specimens under a microscope.
“Enough!” Harris shouts, pushing his way closer, his boots thudding over the ground. He looks from Jackson, bending over and spitting blood onto the ground—and what looks like a tooth—then back to Sean. As far as I can tell, there’s not a scratch on Sean, but his face is wild, flushed red in fury. He’d like another go at Jackson. “The drill is over, I won’t stand for any more fighting in the ranks. Understood?”
Jackson looks up, wiping a hand against his nose, leaving a dark streak of crimson against his face. He nods. Harris then looks at Sean. Sean grunts and offers up a nod as well.
Harris stares at Sean for a long moment as though he doesn’t quite believe him. My fists curl at my sides, fearful that he will decide to punish Sean in some way. Like by sending him away from here.
“What’s gotten into you, O’Rourke?” Harris demands.
Sean pulls back his shoulders, panting hard, saying nothing.
“They’re from the same town,” Dusty volunteers, motioning to me. Of course, she knows that. I’m sure Stiles included that in my file.
“Ah. Loyalty I admire, but I expect discipline.” Harris looks back and forth between Sean and me, before narrowing his eyes on Sean, considering him in a way that is impossible to read. “And those who can follow rules.”
Uninvited Page 22
