Chapter 4 Emery #2
Cameron smirks at my remark, but General Nolan doesn’t find it as funny.
He lets out a grunt and crosses his arms as he looks out over the sea of bodies doing warm-up exercises in the center of the arena.
“We call this place the Under and if you like that play on words, wait until you see how dark it gets down here too,” Nolan drawls, winking at me with no smile. Jesus.
I take a deep breath and focus on the cadets dressed in black and dark gray camo. Names are printed on the badges over their chests, but we’re too far away to read them even as we pass by.
“How long will we be spending in boot camp?” I ask. An unsettling feeling of doom sinks into my chest as eyes follow us from across the arena. I really don’t want to attract any unwanted attention from the others, so I keep my head down.
Nolan takes a sharp turn at a door near the center of the arena and leads us down a long hallway, only stopping when we reach a huge room filled with twin-size cots and mattresses.
“You’re arriving near the end of the ninety-day course, so you’ll both be heading to the trials in a few weeks at most. I suggest making a few friends if you want to have your odds of surviving higher than 5 percent.
Things get a little…ruthless down here.” He must find this amusing because a nasty smile curls his lips.
Cameron groans. “I mean, I’ll have to keep her safe if I want to get back to my squad, so I don’t think we need any friends.” He sounds as enthused about this as I feel.
“This one is yours,” the general mumbles, ignoring Mori.
I try to memorize the twin bed Nolan nods to. It’s near the back of the room, close to the bathrooms. Small name plates are at the foot of each one. Nolan snatches the one currently there and shoves it in his pocket before I can read it.
“What about him?” I hike my thumb back into Cameron’s chest, and he lets out an ungrateful grunt.
Nolan’s eyes darken and he grins. “Sharing is caring, Cadet Maves.”
Sharing? A bed? With Mori of all people… I pinch my thigh to keep the curse words streaming through my head from coming out.
There are more important things to focus on. “Gets ruthless how?” I level Nolan an impatient look.
The general starts walking out the way we came, but mutters as I stare at the back of his head, “The underground soldiers don’t have many rules to abide by, so deaths are common, bullying is prevalent, harassment, you name it.
You need to be able to hold your own down here”—he lifts his arm and points to the cement ceiling—“to make it up there. Best of luck to you two.”
I watch him leave, sit on the edge of the bed, and then take a deep breath. Cameron settles on the opposite side of the bed and doesn’t say a word. The gravity of my situation is finally starting to weave its way into me. I shut my eyes.
I deserve this. I picture all of the people I brutally murdered. What about all the people who deserve it more, though? Like Greg Mavestelli and Reed? I deflate at the spiteful thoughts. I’ve never been one to beat a dead horse. What’s done is done.
When my eyes open again, I feel slightly re-centered.
I’m down here for a reason, because I belong with others like me. This is my second chance. Think on the bright side. Isn’t that what all the positivity influencers shout about? What are the bright sides of things down here? My eyes traitorously shift toward Cameron’s fit physique. There’s one.
About four minutes pass before a crowd of cadets funnel into the room. Their eyes catch on Cameron and me quickly. I hold my breath at the sheer unwelcome feeling that rolls off their shoulders.
One of them walks ahead of the rest. His hair is dyed crimson red, skin is pale, eyes a haunting dark brown that nears black.
He looks my age, maybe a year older. I swallow the knot in my throat as he walks confidently toward us.
His stride is as intimidating as his thick, furrowed brows are.
A bloody bandage is wrapped around his neck, thickest where his carotid artery lies.
It looks like someone tried to kill him literally ten minutes ago.
My eyes widen as I realize Nolan wasn’t joking about how things are run down here.
Shit, don’t tell me his name was on the plaque Nolan took. I brace myself for a potential fight.
“What are you two doing on my bed?” he shouts. I stand slowly, hands clenched at my sides.
“General Nolan said this was mine,” I say calmly. The man lifts a brow and looks behind me at Cameron. “Ours,” I correct. Sweat beads down my forehead with all the eyes on us. Ruthless glares of fellow killers.
Nolan did this on purpose, stirring the pot with another cadet and making me share a bed with Mori. Prick.
The young man smiles. It takes me by surprise how sinister it is. I mean, it’s just a fucking bed. I harden my stare, he shouldn’t take me as some pushover.
He leans closer to me as he murmurs, “Then Nolan has just given you a world-class fuck you. There are no free beds right now. I guess that means you two will be sleeping on the floor.”
Cameron watches with mild interest, but even then, his cold expression is chilling. He’s one person I’d hate to pick a fight with.
My pulse increases and my cheeks warm as the other cadets chuckle among themselves on my behalf. “You expect us to sleep on the floor?” I snap at him and he flinches. Probably surprised that I’m not going to lie down and die just because he tells me to.
Curiosity flickers across his gaze, but he quickly shifts it back to a glare as he looks at the ground. “You wouldn’t be the first, you little brat. Here, I’ll help you.” He grabs my wrist and tries dragging me to the floor.
I should be reasonable and try to not go straight to violence, but the way he’s acting puts a seed of hatred deep inside my heart and my fist is already swinging before I realize it.
I deck him straight across the cheek. His head is thrown to the side, but he remains standing. My eyes widen as he takes a moment to collect himself before wiping his lip and bringing those dark eyes back to mine.
“That was dirty,” he sneers. The others start to circle around us, eager for a fight. A young woman comes up behind him and touches his shoulder softly.
“Damian, are you okay?” Her voice is delicate, but she turns hostile eyes on me. Her hair is dark and braided tightly with beautiful golden bands woven throughout.
I throw them a shrug and cross my arms. “Still think we’re sleeping on the floor?” I ask smoothly. The corners of Cameron’s lips curve up. The woman curses before charging at me and throwing her arm up for a punch. I sidestep and hit her in the ribs hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs.
Cameron watches her fall to the ground apathetically, then his gaze slides back to mine. A flicker of interest races behind those cynical eyes.
Damian sneers at me. “How about we spar for the bed then, since you’re feeling like showing off?” His voice has a curl of malice to it. He’s almost as tall as Cameron is. I’d be an idiot to accept his challenge, but everyone is watching. So I nod.
He cracks his knuckles and laughs. “Such a dumb bitch.”
My teeth dig into my lower lip as rage takes over. “Call me a bitch again, I fucking dare you.” He must see the hint of batshit crazy in my eyes because he holds his tongue as he nods to the arena.
Cameron interjects, standing in one smooth motion and slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ll spar with you. It’s only fair since she’s already punched you.” His tone is low and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Damian assesses him and laughs. “I’ll take you both on. You look wimpier than her.”
A wicked smile draws Cameron’s lips up. I think this guy just signed his own death certificate.
Nolan said to make friends, but we’ve already made two enemies.