by Aimee Carter
She nodded at a rooftop on the other side of the cage. Through the bars I noticed Mercer, his hands set on a railing as he gazed down at the girls in the cage. Behind him, I spotted Hannah’s blond braid as she leaned over to speak to someone I couldn’t see.
“You have ten seconds to begin,” boomed Mercer. All traces of friendliness were gone from his voice, and he nodded to the guards below.
They each raised their rifles, but instead of pointing them into the silent crowd, they aimed inside the cage.
“Ten,” began Mercer. “Nine. Eight. Seven...”
Maya began to advance, looking like a cat eyeing an injured bird, while Poppy cowered against the cage. “Please,” she begged. “Maya, please, don’t—”
Her pleas were cut off as Maya pounced and grabbed her hair. I expected the pair to fall to the ground and pummel each other, but instead, with one quick twist, Maya broke Poppy’s neck.
Poppy’s body fell to the ground, her eyes still open and staring directly at me. I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms as my chest tightened, making it impossible to breathe. I’d seen death more times than I could count—on the streets of the Heights, the hunting grounds of Elsewhere, the white carpet stained red by Augusta’s blood. But the sickening crack of Poppy’s neck echoed in my head, and all I could see was her empty gaze, the same one that had been in Benjy’s eyes as he’d fallen lifelessly to the floor.
Noelle wrapped her warm arms around me, and at first I thought it was because she needed the comfort. But it wasn’t until I felt the tears freeze on my cheeks that I realized I was the one who was crying.
The crowd was silent as a guard climbed into the cage through a trapdoor and dragged Poppy’s body away. Maya remained in the cage, and as another woman entered—older this time, and a cry of anguish nearby told me that this must have been Darcy—I buried my face in Noelle’s shoulder, refusing to watch.
Maya won all three fights, killing her opponents within seconds of Mercer’s countdown beginning. After the third match, Scotia grunted her approval. “She gave them a painless death,” she said. “Good. Thought she’d play with her food.”
It was only through an act of supreme willpower that I managed to keep the contents of my stomach where they belonged, and finally I raised my head. “Is that it?”
Scotia nodded. “Should be. There’s never more than three.”
“What’s going to happen to Maya now?” I said, chancing a glance up into the cage. Maya stood in the center, her shoulders hunched as she breathed heavily, looking like she, too, was about to be sick.
“She’s earned another chance in the general population,” said Scotia. “Might be sent to a different section, considering she went after you, but—”
She stopped suddenly, and beside me, Noelle squeaked. “What’s he doing?”
Mercer stood against the railing at the edge of the rooftop, holding a gun with a scope mounted on top. Hannah stood beside him, her mouth tugged down in a frown, and instantly I understood. But before I could look away, Mercer squeezed the trigger, and a shot rang out.
Hot, wet droplets of red splattered my face and the front of my coat. Noelle’s scream pierced my eardrums, and my brain caught up with what I was seeing just in time to register the hole in the center of Maya’s chest as she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. On the rooftop, Mercer lowered his weapon, and a dark figure appeared at his side.
“Back to your bunks,” ordered Mercer over the sounds of shrieks and sobs. “Curfew begins in ten minutes. Anyone caught outside will be shot on sight.”
“Come on, you two, before he gets trigger-happy,” muttered Scotia, tugging at my elbow. But I didn’t budge. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t so much as blink.
Instead I stared up at the man who stood on the other side of Mercer. In the dying light, his features were nearly impossible to make out, but the way he held himself was unmistakable, and I would have recognized his cold gaze anywhere.
Knox.
VIII
SPY
Knox was here.
Knox was Elsewhere.
After all he’d done to me—after talking me into giving up my freedom, after betraying me to Daxton, after killing Benjy and the last hope I had left for a happy life, he had the nerve to show up here and not even bother to face me.
Rage burned me up from the inside out, leaving nothing but blind hatred in its wake, and the hollowness Benjy’s death had left in my chest filled with a single need:
Make Knox pay.
Without thinking, I pulled myself over the railing separating us from the cage. “Knox!” I screamed, my voice echoing through the crowd. I was going to kill him. I was going to rip him apart with my bare hands until he resembled nothing more than meat at the butcher’s, and then I was going to feed him to the dogs. I’d show him the same mercy he showed Benjy, and for the rest of his pathetically short life, he would regret everything he’d done to him—to us.
Knox looked down from his spot on the rooftop, and he searched the crowd before his eyes locked on mine. A strange expression flickered over his face—surprise I was still alive? Relief there were hundreds of people between us? I couldn’t tell and didn’t care. I would crawl over them if I had to and climb up to that rooftop brick by painted brick. One way or the other, no matter what it cost me, I was going to kill him.
Before I could swing my legs over to the other side of the railing, however, two pairs of hands grabbed my arms and pulled me down. “Are you crazy or just incredibly stupid?” hissed Scotia. “Get yourself killed on your own time, but don’t you dare give Mercer a reason to point that gun at all of us.”
At last I tore my eyes away from Knox. Scotia gripped my arm so tightly that I would have a handprint-shaped bruise in the morning, and Noelle huddled beside her, looking every bit as pale as before. “Knox—that’s Knox,” I said, struggling to get the words out. My tongue had turned to lead, and my lips were numb, making every word a trial. “He—he killed—”
“I don’t care who he killed,” snapped Scotia. “The only thing I care about is Mercer not killing you.”
“Let him,” I choked out, looking back up at the rooftop. Knox had disappeared, but Mercer remained, his eyes fixed on us. A shiver ran down my spine, and I tried to push Scotia’s hand away. Let Mercer kill me.
A bullet to the brain. It would be a relief.
No matter where I was or whose face I wore, my life would always be in the hands of someone else.
“You can’t kill Knox if you’re dead,” said Scotia, her grip tightening. “Play out your little soap opera somewhere else, princess. I’m not interested in being in the line of fire, and neither is Noelle. Now come on, before I have to drag you by the hair.”
With a hard shove, Scotia pushed both of us away from the cage and back toward the bunk, muttering curses under her breath. I stumbled forward, my mind on mute as I stared at the snow beneath my feet. One step after the other, white stained red, and a bullet to the brain. That was all I could think about. But somewhere in the back of my mind, in a portion that was still alive—that was still rational—Scotia’s words settled, taking root.
You can’t kill Knox if you’re dead.
No, I couldn’t. And if I had to stay alive long enough to see it happen, then I would. For Benjy.
I only came to when she shoved us through the door and warmth hit my numb cheeks, causing them to burn. With my bunk nearest the door, the freezing air invaded my space, but I tugged off my coat and threw it down on the stained mattress.
A plan. I needed a plan.
“Who was that man?” said Noelle. Her bunk was only a few down from mine, and while the other girls huddled together at the other end of the room either for warmth or to avoid me, Noelle returned to my side once she’d stripped her own coat off.
“Lennox Creed. Lila’s fiancé,” said Scotia from the doorway to her private room. The curtain must have kept some warmth inside, but she didn’t invite us in even though the icy wind continued to blast through to my bunk as more girls spilled through the doorway.
Noelle gasped. “Your fiancé? He’s here?”
“Former fiancé,” I managed, my teeth chattering now that feeling was returning to my extremities. “He—he was on the roof with Mercer.”
Her eyes widened. “But why do you want to kill him?”
“He killed my b—my best friend,” I said as the quicksand tried to swallow me again. I fought to stay above it. No one else would hold Knox accountable for killing Benjy, but I would make him pay. I had to stay whole and alive until then.
“If he loved you, why would he do that?” said Noelle, her brow furrowing.
“To teach me a lesson.” My throat tightened painfully, threatening to close completely, but I swallowed hard. “I refused to do exactly what he told me to do, so he killed Benjy.” I looked at Noelle, my eyes burning with unshed tears, and I whispered, “He was my Elliott.”
“Oh!” Noelle’s lower lip trembled, and she pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Lila. That’s...” Her arms tightened around me. “I’m so sorry.”
In the doorway, Scotia remained stoic. “Dying’s a condition of living,” she said. “Everyone does it eventually. There’s no point trying to fight it.”
“If you really believed that, then you wouldn’t still be alive,” I said thickly. “I’m fine dying. I never expected to live this long anyway. But Benjy—he was pure good. He didn’t deserve to die, and if Knox thinks he can get away with it—”
“What are you going to do?” said Scotia, staring down at me. “March up to him and snap his neck?”
“If that’s what it takes,” I said, glaring at her in return, silently daring her to report me. “At least I have the guts to finish him off myself.”
The entire bunkhouse went silent. Noelle stiffened, and she pulled away from me, shooting Scotia a nervous look. Before Noelle could say anything, however, Scotia stepped toward me, a dangerous mask of calm settling over her features.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” she said.
“Those girls—Maya and Poppy and the others—they didn’t have to die,” I said. “You knew what would happen the minute you turned them in.”
“And they knew exactly what would happen if they were ever caught fighting on my turf,” said Scotia. “Just like I bet you knew exactly what would happen to your friend if you betrayed Knox.”
My blood turned to lava, and fury erupted inside me. Before I knew what was happening, I flew across the aisle, my fingers curled into claws as I tackled Scotia to the ground. Part of me was vaguely aware I was screaming obscenities as I tried to rip her to shreds, but in one fluid motion, Scotia flipped me onto my back and pinned my legs and arms, knocking the wind out of me.
“You might be used to people kissing your ass and telling you what you want to hear back home, but you’re not a Hart anymore, princess,” she growled. “You’re no better than the rest of us.”
She hovered over me, close enough for me to smell the chocolate on her breath and see flecks of gold in her irises. I didn’t turn away. Instead, with anger still raging within me, I spit in her face.
Scotia didn’t so much as flinch. “Consider this your warning,” she said. “And be thankful I’m being so generous, you ungrateful bitch.”
She climbed to her feet and wiped my spit off her cheek. Several of the girls began to whisper, but with a single look, she silenced them and stalked back into her room.
With effort, I sat up, my side aching from the way her knee had dug into me. Noelle knelt beside me, even though I belatedly realized I’d managed to land in a puddle of melted snow someone had tracked in from outside.
“You really shouldn’t push her,” she said softly, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades. “It won’t do you any good.”
“Like she said, I’m no better than the rest of you,” I said, glaring at the curtain that now separated Scotia from us. “And neither is she. She had no right to talk about Benjy like that.”
“I’m sure she already feels bad about it,” said Noelle. “Scotia’s a really good person, I promise. But if you give her a reason to turn you in—”
Suddenly the door to the bunkhouse burst open, revealing a burly guard clutching a rifle. His massive frame took up nearly the entire doorway, and he lumbered into the room, his boot missing my toes by inches. “Inspection! Stand by your bunks, hands on your head, all of you.”
Noelle scrambled to her feet, pausing only long enough to help me to mine before she hurried over to the foot of her bunk. The other girls stood by theirs, all with their hands placed behind their heads. My heart pounded, and I stumbled the few steps it took to reach mine, leaning against the ladder while gingerly lifting my arms high enough to mimic their poses. The guard met my eyes, and a shiver ran through me. Was he staring because of who he thought I was, or had he been sent here to plant something on me, finally giving Knox an excuse to kill me?
Half a dozen guards stormed into the room and began to tear the place apart. Mattresses were pounded, pillows were ripped open, and though I didn’t have any personal belongings, the guards rummaged through the others’. More than once I heard paper ripping, and Noelle winced as a guard tore through the pages of a book she had under her pillow.
At last, three quarters of the way down the aisle, a weedy guard straightened. “Sir,” he called, holding up what looked like a candy bar. The girl whose bunk he was searching started to turn around, but one look from the guard and she straightened again, her face pale.
The first guard lumbered up to her. Chelsea, I remembered. Her name was Chelsea. “You’re aware that the possession of contraband substances is strictly prohibited by Article 18, Section B of the penal code?” said the first burly guard.
“It—it was a present from a guard,” she said in a trembling voice. “I thought—because he gave it to me—”
The guard snapped his fingers, and the one who had found it pocketed the candy bar and twisted her arm behind her back. “Out you go,” he said in a shrill, excited voice that made my stomach turn. Chelsea stumbled forward, her face red and eyes full of tears. Our gazes met, and suddenly all I could see was the hole in Maya’s chest.
Even though it was stupid, even though Scotia had just given me my first and final warning, I stepped into the aisle between bunks to block their way.
“It’s a candy bar,” I said. “You’re really going to throw her into the cage for that?”
Behind the guard, Noelle shook her head furiously, silently begging me to stop. I ignored her. Better not to get her involved in this, too.
“It’s an item from outside the zone,” said the first guard, the burly one who looked like he could challenge a bear and win. “You break the rules, you get arrested. Plain and simple.”
So Elsewhere was exactly like D.C., except the Shields had been replaced by the prisoners themselves, and instead of going Elsewhere, you were sent to the cage. For a candy bar, for an orange—it was all the same thing. “It’s a stupid rule,” I said.
The guard stepped up beside me, towering over me the same way he’d towered over Chelsea. “Would you prefer we not arrest her?”
“I’d prefer you have a little decency and realize a candy bar is just a candy bar,” I shot at him. “You heard her. A guard gave it to her. For all we know, it could’ve been you, for the sole reason of coming in here to arrest her for your barbaric entertainment tomorrow night.”
He narrowed his eyes and bent down until our noses were nearly touching. “I’ll tell you what, Miss Hart. I’m gonna do you a favor. Just for you, just because you think it’s unfair, I’m not going to arrest her.”
I e
xhaled, my tense muscles relaxing slightly. “Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Not at all,” he said, and he straightened. “Take her to the street.”
Several girls gasped, and the weedy guard shoved Chelsea down the aisle and out the door. The blast of cold air hit my face, and forgetting the other guards still searching through the bunks, I hurried after them.
The weedy guard forced Chelsea to her knees under a pool of yellow light in the middle of the street. She trembled, and a choked sob escaped her. “Please,” she begged. “Please, I’ll tell you where I got it—I’ll tell you anything you want. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t—”
“Shut up,” said the weedy guard, and he kicked her in the spine. I started forward, but someone grabbed my collar and held me back.
“Don’t even think about it,” said Scotia, her voice dripping with venom. The burly guard chuckled as he stepped around me.
“You should listen to Scotia,” he said, giving her an enormous wink. “She knows how to handle herself, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“I’m not your sweetheart, Williams,” she said coolly, but he merely chuckled and descended the steps into the snowy street.
“Someday I’ll change your mind. But this one here...” He drew his weapon and looked straight at me. “Maybe this will help you change yours, Miss Hart.”
Before I could move, before I could think, before I could react at all, he pressed the barrel of his rifle to the back of Chelsea’s head. A gunshot cut off her strangled scream, leaving dead silence in its wake.
Her blood stained the snow red, mixing with the yellow light and appearing an eerie shade of brown. With cold efficiency, the weedy guard dragged her body to the side of the street and spoke into a device clipped to his shoulder. “Cleanup requested, Street 8, Block B.”
“All clear, sir,” called another guard from inside the bunkhouse, as if nothing had happened. Their boots squeaked against the wet floor as they headed out the door, each one brushing me as they passed.
