Chapter 3
“Wake up. Command wants to see you,” a harsh voice barked. My hand darted under my pillow, knife drawn on the figure above me within seconds.
Ingrid stared between me and the knife, unimpressed. She was fully dressed in her patrol uniform, short blond hair pulled back with a scrap of fabric.
“I said, move,” she bit out.
I sat up, fully clothed. “Why would Command want to see me?”
“Some of us are trying to sleep,” someone snapped.
“Fuck if I know,” Ingrid said, heading toward the entrance where Patrick stood waiting. I slipped on my boots and grabbed my father’s pistol.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Ingrid whirled, glaring at me. “I don’t make mistakes and poor decisions, unlike you. They requested you come to the Gym.”
My heart steeled over as her shot landed. I hadn’t seen Ingrid since Lily’s passing. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know about myself.
“Grab your belongings,” Ingrid continued.
“Why?” I demanded. What could Command want with me and all my things? Had someone reported me for stabbing that man? It seemed unlikely, but there were consequences for violence, depending on the sector.
“Take it to the hall. It’s only the fifth bell,” someone shouted, others grumbling in agreement.
I grabbed my items and followed her out. Patrick fell in line with her as he clutched a steaming drink to his chest. He nodded at me, and we left Expansion.
“Where’s Rumi?” I asked once we were in the empty tunnel. Rumi was Patrick’s partner, and they were usually inseparable. I had learned they both loved the witching hour shift while I cared for them in that closet.
Ingrid’s shoulders went rigid as Patrick said, “She’s been off the witching hour shift for a couple of moons.
” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice or the look he threw Ingrid.
We walked in silence the rest of the way.
Ingrid wasted no time with goodbyes as she pushed open their living quarters door and disappeared within.
“They’re waiting in the Gym. That way, two rights. Godspeed,” Patrick said, following Ingrid in.
As I got closer to the Gym, more and more people in blue filled the tunnels. My anxiety grew.
Command was a group of five leaders, one elected from each of the five sectors.
Each leader oversaw their own sector—setting its rules, selecting the best candidates, and monitoring health scores from the Ward’s reports.
Some rules spanned all five sectors, such as outlawing murder.
However, it was up to each Force commander, the title the Force gave each sector leader, to report the violence and to seek justice for the victim.
Some sectors were stricter about this than others.
Six months ago, I would have known why I was being called down.
They would have discovered I had been forging health score documents.
Now, though, I was a model member of the Expansion Sector.
Stabbing that man had been self-defense.
I knew Command headquarters were located in neutral territory within the tunnels.
To be called to the Gym, the training ground of the Force… nothing good could come from this.
A clamor of noise hit me as I entered a set of double doors.
I took in a sea of dark blue uniforms spread throughout the Gym.
It was a sweeping, cave-like room, two stories tall, almost as large as the cafeteria, broken into sections.
A gun range ate up the entire left side, a group within practice-shooting at various targets.
In the weight area, another group performed a series of exercises.
Others powered through an obstacle course.
Lastly, a group sparred on mats spread out on the floor.
A flash of dark brown curls caught my eye.
Tristian took someone down on the mats, muscles gleaming with sweat under the bright lights.
I halted, entranced. Tristian captured his opponent in a headlock, the man’s face going pink as Tristian increased his pressure.
The man tapped. I hated that I stared, but Tristian was a sight.
He was everything Jaxon wasn’t. Jaxon, while muscular, was lean, a sly look about him.
Tristian was a raw, brutal force, like a clash of thunder that rattled the earth.
“Don’t drool.” I whirled to find Levi smirking beside me, dressed in his patrol uniform. He nodded toward a door behind him. “They’re through that door. Good luck, Death’s Angel.” He walked past me to a small group of Force members nearby.
I had gotten this far. I ignored the eyes that followed me as I moved through the sea of dark blue. Placing my hand on the handle, I took a deep breath and came face-to-face with Command.
“Ah, Death’s Angel.” A smooth voice greeted me. “Come in.”
In the middle of the room stood Lyssa Burdon, the most prominent Command member, known in all sectors.
A slender woman with jet-black hair and cunning sapphire eyes, she was beautiful, but people whispered about her viciousnes, which had propelled her through the ranks of the Force at an alarming rate until she stood atop them all as the youngest Command member.
I recognized the man to her right. Dr. Uri Foster leaned on a cane, his spine curved with old age. He was the most senior commander and the head of the Hospital Ward. I avoided his gaze.
“Hello, Death’s Angel.” Leon Terral, the leader of Expansion, smiled at me, his white teeth a shocking contrast to his rich, light brown skin. The commanders of the Kitchens and Sanitation weren’t present. “Thank you for joining us.”
“Have I done something wrong?” I asked, my hackles rising.
Burdon smiled, her stare hawklike. “Your time in the Expansion Sector has been cut short.”
Confusion rippled through me. “What?”
The door behind me opened, and sure footsteps filled the room, stopping next to me. “Unit Commander Hayes, welcome,” Burdon said.
Tristian stood to my left, his hair pulled back. He had donned a shirt, but the sweat caused it to cling to his muscled chest.
I froze, my heart beating wildly. This wasn’t a cage—this was a trap.
“You looked good out there, Hayes,” Burdon said, her eyes lingering on his sweat-drenched shirt. “Hayes is my best unit commander. You two know each other, yes?” She gestured between us.
“We do,” I gritted out.
“She treated me in the Hospital Ward several years ago,” Tristian said simply.
“Good. We reviewed your notes from your last mission above, Commander Hayes. We feel you are getting close. We decided your relentless petitions for a medic were valid. Dr. Uri has assured me that you were correct; Death’s Angel is a competent candidate. She was an excellent assistant in the Ward.”
My stomach dropped. The time, medications, and extent of injury I had left off people’s charts had made me look like a competent medical practitioner.
“Dr. Kumar personally saw to training her and remains convinced she is the Ward’s biggest loss. That Haven is in good hands if she was on this mission,” Burdon continued. My heart twisted. “Dr. Uri also reassured me that she is unfazed by death and does not get ill.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as my stomach bottomed out. Unfazed.
“You mentioned she has some physical training. Is that correct, Unit Commander?” Burdon asked Tristian.
Lie, I thought desperately. Lie.
“That is correct,” Tristian stated, looking straight ahead.
“I have reread your impassioned requests.” She waved a pile of reports at us.
“I have reconsidered. Seeing as it is the midyear petitions and your vacancy qualifies as an immediate need, Death’s Angel is all yours, Commander Hayes,” Burdon stated.
Shock rooted me to the ground. Most changes only happened at the yearly petition, but after a virus that had wiped out droves of people in Expansion, leaving them undermanned, they enacted an emergency midyear petition.
“Unless there’s someone in the Force who is an adequate replacement. ”
“There isn’t,” Tristian said.
“You’re certain?”
“I am.”
Commander Burdon appeared disappointed. “Well, then, let’s see what she’s made of,” she said. “Tell me, Death’s Angel, can you shoot as well as you save people?”
“I don’t know,” I lied.
“Let’s find out.”
“Please hit the targets.”
Minutes later, I walked up to the firing line of the third shooting range lane, a Force pistol in my hand.
I secured the eye and ear protection as those around me did the same.
The sleek Force pistol was nicer than the one in my waistband.
The Command leaders and Tristian stood to my back.
The units at the range paused to watch me.
I refused to look at any of them. My heart felt like a growing war drum as rage coursed through me.
Please, reconsider it, Tristian had told me yesterday. Had he already planned to force me into this?
“Any day now, Death’s Angel,” Burdon prompted. I was surprised I could hear her through the ear protection headset, crystal clear in the earpiece; our headsets were connected.
I took a breath as my anger battled my pride. I could blow this. Aim like shit.
I gripped the pistol tighter than I should have. My father’s voice cut through. You have to survive now, little flower. I aimed, pulling my arm down just enough to miss.
“Jax, isn’t that the Expansion slut you’ve been seeing?” a Force member drawled.
Fury dripped down my spine, my aim righting itself without a thought from me. We had destroyed humanity, yet the patriarchy had survived as I was slandered for something a man would be congratulated on.
I glanced to my left, locking eyes with Jaxon, surrounded by his unit. Tristian shifted behind me, like he might say something. That pissed me off more. I gathered all my anger in that glance at Jaxon. His eyes went wide.
I clicked off the safety and emptied the magazine into the target, my arm barely feeling the recoil.
Dropping the magazine from the gun, I cleared it safe and returned the pistol to Tristian, who reloaded it and replaced it in his holster.
Burdon smiled as she peered at the target. “What’s next?” I challenged, yanking down the headphones and eye protection.
“Don’t you wish to check your shots?” one of them said.
“No. The one on the bottom left isn’t dead-on. It’s slightly to the right.” I knew that because Tristian had exhaled loudly between the shots, pulling my focus from the target for the space of a heartbeat.
“Fetch the target,” Burdon instructed Tristian.
“Cease fire!” someone called out. The shooting range went quiet as a red light illuminated above the targets.
Jaxon drifted toward me, trying to catch my attention.
I ignored him. I shouldn’t care what he told his unit about me.
There was nothing between us. He had never shown any interest in knowing me. It was why I had chosen him.
Tristian returned, holding the target, something like admiration on his face. I couldn’t stomach it.
Terral whistled, looking at me. “We shall miss you in the Expansion Sector.”
“Welcome to the Force, Cadet Cadell,” said Burdon.
Everything went quiet. I stared at her, my family name disarming me. Distantly, I heard Burdon continue, “She’s all yours, Unit Commander. She will replace your vacant position.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“There’s still a vacancy in your unit’s bunk, correct?” Burdon asked, watching me. “Cadet Cadell will take it.”
“Yes, Commander.”
This couldn’t be happening. I looked toward Tristian, anger roaring. He had gone behind my back. He met my stare, his face impassive.
“I shall see you tomorrow for the start of your training, Cadet Cadell,” Burdon said.
“Be in Formation by the fifth bell. Commander Hayes, she is your responsibility. She should be ready to go above when the storm ends. I do not need to tell you—time is of the essence. If she fails, we all fail. Haven is in your hands.”