Chapter Three
CASSIA
Ishoot upright in bed, my nightshirt clinging to each part of my skin from the copious amount of sweat.
My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s attempting to break free from the danger I’m about to put it in.
My body feels like it’s burning despite the room’s chill, and I shove away the blanket that’s tangled around my legs.
Darkness squeezes me, the familiar shapes of my bedroom transformed into looming shadows. Across from me, Lachlan’s steady breathing fills the tingling silence. He sleeps soundly, unaware his life—our entire family’s lives—are about to change because of the decision I’ve made.
I haven’t slept. Not a moment. My mind refused to quiet as it spun through scenarios and calculated risks, imagining outcomes both triumphant and disastrous. The hours crawled by as I stared at the bare ceiling, waiting for the time I’d need to rise, half-hoping I would lose my nerve.
If anything, I’m only more determined.
Careful to not make a sound, I slip from beneath my covers and place my feet on the cold floor. My limbs droop with exhaustion, but my mind is sharp, focused by a cocktail of fear and resolve that burns through my veins.
I glance at my brother once more before grabbing the small pack I prepared last night from beneath my bed.
My hand flails until I feel what I’m looking for, dragging it slowly to the surface.
Peering behind me, Lachlan’s face is still peaceful in sleep.
I didn’t expect to wake him, he sleeps like the dead, but every sound feels like a bomb exploding.
I don’t even trust he couldn’t hear my heart if he were awake.
Will he understand I couldn’t bear another day of living through books and windows? Will he hate me when he realizes what I’ve done?
I hope not. Even if I am being selfish.
But at the same time, I hope he does. Perhaps it will be easier for him to accept my betrayal if he loathes me for it. I will shoulder his hate if it makes this better for him.
The floor creaks beneath my weight as I walk to the door, and my eyes widen as I curse my stupidity.
I know how to avoid every weak spot in this house; so giving myself away from naive distraction is unacceptable.
I freeze, tilting my head to listen for any change in Lachlan’s breathing, but it remains steady.
Once in the hallway, I pause again to aid my ears in catching any sign that my parents are awake.
Nothing but the familiar groaning of an old house and the distant ticking of a clock in the main room.
I should want one of them to wake in time to stop me. To unknowingly keep me from a fate that will surely lead to nothing but pain and emptiness.
And yet I don’t want that.
Both hinges on the bathroom door protest quietly as it pushes open, and I wince.
Once the door closes with a gentle click, I lean against the edge of the sink, sucking in a few deep breaths before flipping on the small light above me.
My reflection stares back, pale and wide-eyed.
For a moment, I don’t recognize myself—this version of Cassia who’s about to walk into the ranks of the Enforcers.
Who’s about to shed her skin and become someone else.
My lip curls as I strip from my nightclothes, fear and sweat still clinging to my pores.
I yearn for a proper shower, but the pipes would groan and wake my family.
Instead, I settle for the next best thing: a wet washcloth I scrub over my body.
The chilled water raises goosebumps across my skin, making me shiver every few seconds.
This is certainly a poor substitute to a full wash, but it will have to do.
I cannot risk this one chance for the sake of cleanliness, especially as the majority of it would be to sate my mental state.
My fingers squeeze and release in a quick pattern before I shove the anxiety away and grab Lachlan’s uniform from my pack.
The dark fabric catches the light in certain places, almost appearing as though it’s smiling; taunting every moment I continue readying myself.
As if it doesn’t believe I will succeed, and it’s happy to watch me fail.
I pull it apart piece by piece, laying each item on the counter with reverent care.
Before long, I’m staring down at black tactical pants with reinforced knees, a long-sleeved shirt with its stiff collar, and a heavy jacket with a missing Enforcer insignia indicating rank.
Lachlan once explained it’s a common practice for him and the other messengers to remove their insignias when traveling between provinces—something about discourse amongst officers.
Remarkable system we have if Enforcers from different provinces cannot even work together like adults.
I glance out the window, my face pinching at the slightest change in tint, indicating dawn is quickly approaching.
I slide on the uniform, the fabric much heavier than I expected.
The boots are unwieldy on my feet, strange as I’m certain Lachlan and I are the same size.
But that’s not what gives me pause—no, it’s the smell.
The faint notes of my brother; the soap he washes with, the slight musk that clings to his clothes.
It’s comforting and unsettling at the same time.
At least I’ll have something familiar with me out there, even if it is just a scent.
I’m struck by yet another wave of panic as I button the jacket. What are you doing, Cassia? I’ve never even left our house, and now I’m planning to join the most dangerous organization in Dascenia? I’m going to get caught. Then killed.
I’m going to get my entire family killed.
“Stop being a baby,” I whisper-shout to my reflection, my voice barely audible. “Just do it. This is what you’ve always wanted and prayed for.”
My lungs suck in a shaky breath as I reach for the scissors I’d placed in the pack, my fingers trembling at the sight.
This is going to be the most difficult part. My hair has been with me my entire life. One of the few things that’s truly mine, that I have complete control over. The one thing that really separates me from Lachlan and allows me to be an actual person in my secluded, hidden world.
Something hot skims my cheek—I’m crying.
It’s just hair, I tell myself. It will grow back.
It’s not just hair, though…it’s the last piece of Cassia I’m about to cut away. After this, I will be Lachlan. I will be a man. An Enforcer trained to do the bidding of the Syndicate, working to suppress the very things I unashamedly hold close to my heart: autonomy. Freedom. Equality.
Such notions will not do for the Syndicate if I leave this house.
They want obedience. Submission. A quiet, faceless soldier who never questions why the world was built to keep their women caged.
But I was never meant to be quiet.
And I sure as hell was never meant to stay in a cage.
Blowing out the last bit of air coursing through my body, my eyelids flutter closed as I make the first cut.
The sound of the blades slicing through each strand is deafening in the small bathroom.
Weight falls from my head in thick chunks, tickling my senses as they tumble down.
Something shifts in my chest—not pain, but a peculiar lightness.
I open my eyes and stare at the long tress in my hand, then at my reflection.
The person looking back at me is already different. Half my hair still hangs to my waist, but the other half is jagged and short, barely brushing the underside of one shoulder. It’s wild and unfinished.
Caught between identities.
Will it be difficult to keep Cassia alive while I live as Lachlan?
The next cut comes faster, almost eager. My lips twitch as more hair falls across the sink and onto the floor, covering my feet. When it’s done, my breathing is hard and ragged.
I look different. Not quite like my brother, but no longer like myself either. The face staring back at me is a stranger’s—sharp featured, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep, with wild eyes that drip with a strange sort of excitement.
I allow myself a few more seconds before gathering the fallen hair, carefully wrapping it in a towel. I’ll need to dispose the evidence of my transformation where my family won’t immediately find it.
After tying the remaining locks into a tight bun at the nape of my neck, I tuck several extra ties into my pack. My heart skips as I reach for the final piece of my disguise: the mask.
The Enforcer mask is made of a rigid synthetic material, black and featureless except for where the eyes are shown. It covers the entire face, from forehead to chin, wrapping around to secure at the back of the head.
Faceless, indeed.
My fingers brush across the smooth surface with open disdain. This is the point of no return. Once I put on this mask and step outside the front door, I cannot come back. Not as Cassia. Perhaps not at all.
With trembling hands, I lift it to my face and slide it into place.
The transformation is immediate and jarring.
The world narrows to what’s observable through the slit, while my breathing is oddly loud inside the enclosed space, creating a warm and damp environment.
The hardened material presses against my skin, uncomfortable but not painful.
The material is unyielding, forcing my face into neutrality.
I stare at my reflection, and a perfect soldier stares back. My eyes are the only recognizable part of me now, and even they appear different. They make me want to hide. To rip this uniform off and crawl back into the safety of my bed, only to spend another day wondering if things will ever change.
I know they won’t. Someone needs to stand up for the rest, and I’m done being a bystander. No longer will I wait for others to give me what I’ve never had.