Chosen Soldiers

by R. H. Scott

  She turned and pushed through the group, making her way to Stone’s office.

  She threw Stone’s door open and coolly took a seat, not bothering with formalities. Formalities inferred respect—­he didn’t respect her so why should she respect him? Stone watched her disregard protocol and she watched him watch her. He studied her thoughtfully, just as Jared had. He knew—­she was certain of it. He knew, just like Jared had known, that she had finally become that which she had trained to be.

  Stone gestured for Elijah to sit. “We can speak freely in here for now.”

  But they didn’t, not right away. The three of them sat in silence. Sloan tapped her foot against the floor, restless. “Did you call us here for a reason?”

  Stone tensed his jaw, leaning back in his chair. She was pushing it, but she didn’t care. Where had caring gotten her so far?

  Stone took a deep breath. “Yes, I need to be briefed on what Elijah has told you.”

  “He told me about you, what you are, who you lead,” she answered tightly, each word a jab. He nodded at her, studying her attentively.

  “You’re on board then?”

  For a moment—­she expected him to laugh, or stare at her in shock. She expected him to say Elijah clearly had been deluded and that none of this was true. But he didn’t.

  Sloan slumped back in her seat. “Didn’t give me much choice, did you?”

  He inclined his head at her. “It’s too late to turn back, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean,” she sneered. He arched a brow at her, but what had he expected?

  He drummed his fingers on the desk. “You should know we have a plan then, an intervention before Departing Ceremonies. Our primary aim will be to evacuate the children. We can discuss details of all that later, with the Others.”

  Her anger couldn’t shield her from this shock. She had gone along with it, she had listened to Elijah’s story, but it hadn’t actually registered in her mind as wholly true until this exact moment. He was their leader. He had a plan. He had kept greater secrets from her than she had ever imagined.

  Just another betrayal.

  Elijah leaned forward. “Sir, we had an issue this weekend. I . . . I killed a guard.” He tripped over his words with uncertainty and she felt disgust. Killing had to be spoken about the same way it was done—­with conviction. Sloan watched Stone take in Elijah’s lie, but his face betrayed nothing. She didn’t need him to try to take the heat off of her—­she didn’t need any favors from him.

  “Don’t lie for me,” Sloan said, remaining relaxed in her seat. Elijah shot her a shocked glance, but she was narrowed in on Stone. “I killed the guard.”

  “I know,” Stone said, leaning forward and reading her face. “Or at least I suspected—­Kevin Young.”

  “What?” Sloan asked.

  “His name was Kevin.”

  Kevin. Kevin.

  “He had been on patrol,” Stone continued. “I’m sorry this happened.”

  Sloan snorted at his apology and it seemed to be the last straw. “Daniels, wait outside for a moment.” Elijah immediately stood and eyed her over before slowly ­exiting.

  Stone leaned across his desk. “Do we have a problem, Lieutenant?”

  She glared at him. “Why would we?” she pushed sarcastically.

  “Because it seems like you have something you want to say to me,” he pressed.

  “That’s rich, sir, truly,” she laughed. Hadn’t he had something to say to her all these years?

  “Watch it, Radcliffe.”

  Sloan stood. “Or what?” she demanded.

  He stood, mirroring her. “I don’t need to explain my motives to you, Lieutenant.”

  “If you’re asking me to commit treason then yes—­you do,” she snapped back.

  “I’m not asking—­I am ordering you to.”

  Sloan froze under his words. Despite her unbridled rage, despite her overt indifference, she still hesitated at the sound of an order.

  He relaxed, taking his seat again. “I know you’ve been in the dark, Sloan. I know you’re hurting—­and I am sorry—­but I’m finally in a position to offer you some light.”

  She took her seat, taking a deep breath, but she remained silent. With a quick knock on the door, Elijah popped his head in. Stone waved him back in and he returned to his seat beside Sloan.

  “You two should know that, while you were gone, Jared was promoted to major—­in fact, he will be the first student to ever receive that rank.”

  Sloan felt an odd sensation in her chest—­pride. She was proud of Jared . . . but she didn’t want to feel that. She narrowed her gaze on Stone and concentrated on her anger instead, willing it to consume her.

  “Regardless, we can discuss this all further at a later date—­I have a meeting to get to,” Stone announced, standing.

  Sloan and Elijah stood slowly, turning to the door. “Sloan, wait a moment,” the general spoke. Elijah saluted Stone and once again left her in the room.

  She watched Stone regard her slowly. Finally, he spoke. “Are you alright?”

  She shook her head—­she didn’t want him to care; she didn’t want him to be nice to her.

  He carried on, seemingly insistent on doing just that. “I understand I have disappointed you,” he said. “I wish things could have been different. I wish you didn’t have to kill.”

  She jerked her head up at that. “How dare you say that to me? You wish I didn’t have to kill? Was there ever a situation where that wouldn’t have happened? You already got your wish—­I am what you made me. Aren’t you proud?”

  “Every day.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He nodded at her slowly. “I am proud of you every single day.” His words were sincere, his eyes somber. His genuineness was an affront—­she didn’t want to feel anything for this man anymore. The problem was, she still did. Sloan turned from him, ready to leave

  “Sloan—­one more thing.” She didn’t bother turning around; she remained staring at the door. Noting her refusal to look at him, he finally spoke. “Everyone needs to believe you’re in love with Elijah . . . Stay away from Jared.”

  Sloan’s hands curled into fists as her familiar anger washed over her.

  “You do not tell me what to do anymore.”

  Everywhere Sloan went she seemed to move with an aura of danger. Trainers and professors kept their distance; students backed away from her. She could move down the hall and a path would develop in the rush of cadets. Despite her antisocial demeanor, Elijah wouldn’t leave her side.

  Of course, Jared watched her constantly; he sat behind her in class, he trained near her in the hall, he would appear outside her other classes, or go for runs at the same time she went. The only time she didn’t see him was during meals, because John, the kitchen head, still had food sent up to her living quarters and as such, she still had to train his son privately.

  “Duck!” Sloan barked, swinging at Jack’s head. The boy, a natural, lurched under her arm. He was small for an eleven-­year-­old, but he was eager and adept. He was also very green. So, as soon as he bolted upright, she gave him a light tap over the head. Hitting him hard wasn’t necessary. Sloan knew the other trainers hit hard enough. The boy rubbed his temple, taking a step back. “You’re a good fighter, Lieutenant.”

  She tilted his chin up to check she hadn’t hurt him. Sure, it was training, but she didn’t want to hurt him—­he would find enough pain in this place without her. She smiled, reaching for their water bottles. “So are you, kid.” She tossed a bottle to Jack and took a seat down on the mat. Jack mirrored her.

  “So, why does your dad have you train so much?”

  The boy shrugged, swigging his water back thirstily. “To be prepared.” He stared at her with an atypical gaze, intensity in his young eyes, as though he were tr
ying to tell her he knew there was something to be prepared for. Sloan shook the notion away—­did it matter who else knew the truth? She thought she had been miserable when secrets had been kept from her, but now she knew it all and her life felt truly awful most days.

  His childish features lit up curiously. “Why do you eat in your room?”

  “Your dad told you that, huh?” Sloan sighed, leaning back on the mat. She decided on the truth—­or at least some version of it. “It’s so I can be alone.”

  “Oh. You have no friends.”

  She laughed pathetically at his forwardness, shrugging in agreement. She sat back up slowly.

  “Have you tried asking for forgiveness?”

  Sloan arched her brow at the kid’s insightful question, half impressed at his perception, half offended that he assumed it was her fault she had no one left. She thought of Tandy, of Kenny, of Kevin Young—­the ­people she needed forgiveness from . . . She couldn’t ask it of them. And she couldn’t explain that to an eleven-­year-­old. Before she could answer, the hall doors swung open loudly.

  Jared walked through and, finding her quickly in the near empty room, began to walk over to her. She jumped to her feet. “Jack, get to class.” The boy leaped up, eyeing up Jared as he approached.

  “Go on,” she insisted, patting him on the shoulder. Hesitantly he walked off, sidestepping Jared.

  She immediately noticed his elbow was no longer in a sling—­he must have had it taken off that morning. His blue eyes bored into her as he approached. She still fought the urge to tell him everything—­knowing she should, understanding she couldn’t. He stopped a foot away from her.

  Despite his close proximity since her return from the woods—­they hadn’t spoken.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Congratulations on the promotion.”

  He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Thanks.”

  They stood in silence, eyeing one another up. Assessing how much they had changed since losing everything they had once shared. His eyes flicked over her body before locking in on her gaze.

  “You’re different.” He nodded.

  She shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

  “You’re . . . colder, angrier.”

  “You think?” she laughed, narrowing her gaze as he continued to stare. “Take a good look, Jare—­you helped make me this way.”

  He arched a brow at her, a defensive expression crossing his face. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Don’t tell me how to be. You lied to me, betrayed me, kept every possible secret from me, ignored all my pleas, and in the end—­when I rushed to you—­you turned me away.”

  “How was I supposed to react when—­”

  “When what? When I declared my unwavering love for you, when I threw myself at your side despite the fact that you betrayed me, despite that you asked the Order for the one thing I begged you not to.”

  He threw his hands up. “I didn’t come here to argue, Sloan!”

  “Then what did you come for?”

  “This is driving me insane! Seeing Daniels follow you around like a lapdog, knowing you’re with him every day and every night—­I need to know, I need to know that you aren’t . . . that you haven’t—­”

  She realized what he needed to know. He wanted to know that her body was still his. And it was . . . but she didn’t need to tell him that.

  “That’s none of your business,” she growled, glaring up at him.

  “You belonged to me!”

  “Yes. Yes, I did! And you threw it away. You destroyed us and don’t you ever pretend otherwise. You’re so miserable? Great—­so am I! Don’t think for one second that this is anyone’s fault but your own. You ruined me,” she said, a whisper and a shout rolled into one. “You ruined us!” She was in his face now; she could see her anger reflected in his eyes.

  His face came into focus—­his tensed jaw, his helplessly pursed lips, his fiery cobalt eyes boring into her. She pushed past him, storming out of the hall into the corridor. A pool of students still idled in the corridor, turning to see her as she slammed the door hard behind her. In an instant, it was flying open, nearly knocking her forward as Jared appeared.

  “Sloan, I can’t do this anymore!”

  Jared never made public scenes—­and now, he was doing just that. His loud voice echoed through the hallway, falling on the ears of everyone desperate to see this transpire.

  “How do you think I feel?” she yelled back, pushing hard against his chest.

  In an instant, his strong hands were holding her, gruffly pushing her back. “Tell me then!”

  “Tell you what? Nothing can fix this so just back off!” she yelled.

  “Don’t you understand? I can’t. If I could I would—­do you think I want to feel this way? Do you think I want to still love you every waking minute of every day?”

  With every word he roughly shook her, jolting her body back and forth in his shaking hands. She wriggled in his arms, too sad, too angry to be here anymore. But he didn’t let her go.

  “Tell me the truth—­tell me it’s still just me,” he pleaded, shaking her gruffly.

  “Get off of her!” Elijah’s voice surprised her. He grabbed Jared, freeing Sloan from his tight grip.

  Jared seemed to return to reality—­his sad eyes falling on her. “I’m sorry.” He pushed past Elijah, keeping his stare trained on her. “I’m so sorry . . .” he whispered, and then, before his own tears could break, he ran off.

  “What the hell was that about?” Elijah asked, following her into the pod. Sloan slumped down on the sofa, running a hand through her hair. Elijah sat opposite her, waiting for some explanation.

  “Jared’s coming undone . . .” She shrugged.

  Elijah stared at her thoughtfully. “You two really can’t live without one another.”

  Sloan stared back at him—­I tried to tell you just that a million times. “We’re managing,” she lied.

  He ran a hand over his face and then let it fall onto her knee. “We never talked about everything that happened when we got back here.”

  About how you realized you didn’t want me anymore?

  She sat in silence, unsure what to say. He moved to sit beside her. “Sloan, I just . . . I don’t know—­I’ve never seen something like that and I guess, I had never seen how similar you were to Jared before that moment. It took me a while to come to terms with it.”

  She stared at his hand on her thigh. She thought of Jared’s concern about the nature of her relationship with Elijah, of Elijah’s tumultuous feelings, of the state of her life.

  He turned to her. “You know I still want you. My feelings on that never changed.”

  Sloan stifled a laugh at the timing of his declaration . . . as soon as Jared became paranoid she was sleeping with Elijah, Elijah reaffirmed his feelings for her.

  She laid her hand on his . . .

  . . . And slowly removed him from her. “Mine did.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The sound of Kevin Young’s body hitting the ground was a drum, amplified impossibly loud. Sloan’s blond hair whipped slowly around her, her hands still poised to kill. Elijah’s face transformed, a mask of shock and fear. His mouth closing around her name, a hand outstretched to stop her. Sloan didn’t understand. She looked to her feet: Kevin Young was dressed all in white. Lying beside Kevin was Tandy Norman, in a white dress, her hand held by Kenneth Merose, his white uniform crisp and bloody. They lay in a row of white, eyes closed, small smiles across their cold faces. She pivoted around to find Elijah was gone. She fell to her knees and let her hands touch the cool skin of Tandy’s cheek.

  “All your fault.”

  She looked up—­Jared, in military whites. Hands in white gloves. She wanted to tell him it was an accident. He was backing away from her, shaking his head. He didn’t see Romani standi
ng behind him, a knife in his hand. She tried to scream; no noise. Blood blossomed across his chest, blooming death.

  “SLOAN!”

  “Sloan, wake up!” Elijah’s hands shook her. She woke with a start, bolting upright. Her shirt was soaked with sweat, her loose hair damp. She scanned the dark room—­they were in bed, Elijah propped up beside her. It had been a nightmare.

  “Sorry . . . it was just a dream,” she explained, running a hand over her face. Since her rejection, they had oddly grown closer. They had an intimacy that grew out of proximity instead of physicality. He slept beside her; they spent their days talking, and training together—­and he woke her up when she was seized by these nightmares.

  “That’s the third time this week,” he spoke, looking her over with tired eyes. She nodded, throwing her legs off the side of the bed. It had been nearly a month since their excursion and Sloan still couldn’t sleep. She stood slowly, rummaging for her clothes.

  “Where are you going?”

  She found her training gear. “For a run. Go back to sleep.”

  She left him in the dark, dressing in the living area. She dialed a pod and ducked inside. She groggily tied her laces as she made her way down to the outdoor field. As she walked the corridor to the outdoors, the early-­morning air attacked her, whirling through her hair, clinging to her skin futilely. She didn’t feel the cold. She pushed on, making her way to the grass.

  She stretched her legs out, yawning. Jared was already out there—­she could just make him out in the milky light. It wasn’t coordinated. They hadn’t planned it, but somehow, in the middle of the night, at dawn break, during supper when everyone else was eating, whenever she needed to get away, he was already there.

  They always shared the field in silence. Not even their outburst in the hallway had changed that. If anything, it had solidified it.

  She took off in a slow pace, jogging down the perimeter. Jared moved with an easy grace ahead of her, his shoulders bobbing rhythmically, his legs reaching out far ahead of him. Sloan continued down the field, her hands in tight fists. She took a deep swallow of air, extending her legs out further, pushing herself faster. She watched him run and she followed.