Chapter Twenty-Two
CASSIA
Left. Right. Left. Right.
I count each step like a heartbeat, the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. Three hundred forty-seven. Three hundred forty-eight. Three hundred forty-nine.
The forest floor crunches beneath my boots, twigs snapping relentlessly. Every sound is magnified, threatening to share my secret.
Four hundred twelve. Four hundred thirteen.
I don’t dare look up. Not at Elias, who walks several paces ahead, his shoulders rigid beneath his uniform. Not at Arayik, whose steps land with such force I swear the earth trembles. Not at Kellen, whose gaze I can sense on the back of my neck.
Arayik’s voice slithers down my spine. “Pick up the pace. We’re not on a fucking nature walk.”
The group responds with a collective increase in speed, feet thudding in a rhythm that almost matches my counting. Almost, but not quite. The discord makes my teeth ache.
Five hundred twenty-six. Five hundred twenty-seven.
A branch snaps to my right, my hand flying to the weapon on my hip before I register the movement.
It’s just a squirrel, darting away through the underbrush.
But the damage is done. Arayik’s head turns, his dark eyes finding mine through the narrow slit in his mask.
I hold his gaze, forcing my shoulders to relax and my hand to lower.
Don’t show weakness. Don’t show fear.
“Jumpy, Ashford?” His voice is low, dangerous.
I shrug, the motion casual. “Just alert.”
He glowers a moment longer before turning away. Saved for another few minutes.
Seven hundred ninety-one. Seven hundred ninety-two.
Silence stretches between the group, dense as the humid air.
No one speaks. I try to focus on the mission, on the fact that we’re returning with information about the rebel camp’s location.
We didn’t capture any of the women—the rebels had moved most of them before we arrived—but we know where they’re headed next.
It should be considered a partial success.
But all I can think about are those three prisoners I freed. Where are they now? Did they make it to safety? Did I give them enough of a head start?
And what will happen to me when we reach the training center?
This morning was strange—to my standards, at least. Corin discovered the missing prisoners while relieving Nash of patrol duty, waking the entire camp and inciting shouts of questions and accusations.
The Commander was one second away from executing Nash for his incompetence but decided to punish him once we were back. The worst part? I would have let him. Witnessing Arayik murder someone I manipulated to release the prisoners would have been traumatizing, and still I’d have let him.
When Elias claimed he knew nothing, they’d concluded the prisoners had something sharp on their person and were able to cut themselves free. Arayik determined they weren’t worth the chase as we were not properly equipped for such a journey, thank the stars.
One thousand forty-two. One thousand forty-three.
The perimeter rises through the trees, a stark gray line cutting through the natural world. Beyond it lies Dascenia—what they call civilization.
My steps falter for just a moment. Once we cross that threshold, I’ll be back under the full weight of their surveillance.
Breathe.
Elias glances back, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since last night. There’s something in his gaze I can’t decipher. Not anger, surprisingly.
One thousand three hundred seventeen. One thousand three hundred eighteen.
We approach the gate, the massive structure of reinforced steel embedded in the wall. Enforcers stand at attention, their masks identical to ours, shifting when they notice the Commander.
Arayik strides forward, his voice clipped as he provides the necessary codes and identification. The Enforcers verify, stepping aside as the gate slides open with a mechanical groan, scraping against my ears same as last time.
The convoys wait for us just outside, three armored vehicles with the Syndicate’s emblem emblazoned on their sides. We load in silently, and I settle in the corner, my leg bouncing the moment I sit.
I switch from counting steps to counting the rhythmic taps of my foot against the vehicle’s floor. The change in pattern helps keep my mind focused, prevents it from spiraling into the endless loop of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios that threaten to overwhelm me.
The other recruits talk among themselves, their voices mixing into a low hum of conversation.
They discuss the mission, the combat, the prisoners who escaped.
Nash looks miserable, head bowed, knowing he’ll face punishment for failing in his duty.
The others offer half-hearted reassurances, but everyone knows failure has consequences for the Enforcers on Arayik’s team.
If only they knew who was really responsible for his failure.
I’m so lost in anxious thoughts that I miss the entire trip through the wall, only raising my eyes when streaks of light greet them. At least my turmoil is good for something.
Hours pass. The sun reaches its peak descending toward the horizon, and the landscape outside grows more familiar as we approach the training center. Soon, too soon, we’ll return to that sterile environment of concrete and steel, where I’m likely to find my end.
Twelve thousand three hundred four. Twelve thousand three hundred five.
My family is probably sharing dinner right now in our small house. My mother setting out plates while my father tells them about his day at the library. My brother helping with the meal, unaware his identity has been borrowed for treason and murder.
Do they think about me? Do they wonder if I’m safe, if I’m succeeding in whatever mission I’ve set for myself? Or do they try not to think about me at all, knowing that worry will only make the waiting harder?
I’m ashamed I’ve done the latter. It hurts to think of them—something I cannot allow myself to acknowledge in this environment. I do miss them, though. More than they’ll ever understand.
I wonder if they’ll be informed of my death.
Twelve thousand six hundred ninety-one. Twelve thousand six hundred ninety-two.
The Enforcer base appears on the horizon, a lump forming at the center of my throat. My prison for the past weeks. Perhaps soon to be my grave.
No, I can’t think like that. It will just make what’s coming worse.
The vehicles slow as we approach a checkpoint, confirming identification to the stationed Enforcers. We pull into the central courtyard, the engines silencing with a finality that makes my heart skip.
This is it. Whatever happens next, it was still worth it.
Thirteen thousand seventeen. Thirteen thousand eighteen.
The recruits disembark in silence, falling into formation automatically. Arayik stands before us, his posture tense and angry.
“Debrief in thirty minutes,” he announces, his voice spraying across the courtyard. “Dismissed.”