13. Addie
ADDIE
PARAMORE – IGNORANCE
“Alrighty, recruits,” Pearce called from the front of the room. He stood like a general—like he owned every inch of the space he occupied—and with a frame like that, who could believe otherwise?
“Two teams will run through—one at a time—entering into a time trial scenario. Find the mark, capture them, then get the hell outta there. The quicker the time and the more hostiles downed, the more points you’ll earn.
“Round two will see both teams enter at the same time, this time from opposite ends of the compound. Locate the new mark. Once you’ve found him or her, you must retrieve the information they’re holding through whatever means you find necessary, and make your way back here.
Whichever team gets to them first will have to hold off the other until you extract the right information.
“First team out wins—but only if you have the correct keyword. Otherwise, back in you go.”
His smile told us exactly how much he’d enjoy that particular scenario—and also how likely that was to happen.
“No foul play—remember, these are live rounds. Your vests and helmets will only do so much to stop stray bullets from killing you, but you’re not as untouchable as you’d like to believe.”
He paused to shoot a pointed look at Sebastos, while I was stuck ruminating on his choice to reiterate the live rounds part.
I didn’t check the bullets as thoroughly as the gun, dammit.
“Don’t forget”—he tapped his forehead, showcasing his tally-tattooed forearm—“we can see what you’re doing at all times with your headcams on, and will be reviewing all footage upon completion. Any attempt at tampering with your cams will result in instant disqualification.
“Your rankings will be finalised by end of day, though you won’t find out what they are until Graduation, wherein you will receive your assignments.”
His eyes drifted across the sixteen sombre faces staring back at him, landing on mine as he finished the less-than-encouraging speech.
“You have five minutes to assign a team leader and come up with a game plan. Good luck.”
We broke off into our respective teams, each taking a corner of the room. Eth and I were joined by Dakarai, his friend Ace, a girl ironically named Mercy, her friend Cohen, that boy I still hadn’t learned the name of… and Bodie Travers.
Seb’s lackey glared at me, his fingers twitching on the butt of his holstered gun like he’d love nothing more than to draw it and shoot me right here, right now.
I glowered right back, all but daring him to do it.
Probably not the wisest decision while we were about to go through a staged compound with live ammunition, but I’d already stared death down once in the last twenty-four hours and come out on top—what was another handful before the day was through?
“Focus,” Eth snapped, gaze snagging on the staring contest. “Does anyone want Team Leader?”
“I do,” Bodie barked. His meaty face reddened when he was only met with snorts of derision from the rest of the team.
“Pfft,” Mercy snickered. “As if any one of us would follow you and your sheep brain into battle. I vote Cohen for TL.”
Cohen startled, then preened, all but ready to take the red patch marked TL for Team Leader out of Ethan’s waiting palm.
Eth clenched his fingers around it, tutting. “Not so fast. We have four minutes left to come to an agreement. Anyone else keen to throw their name in?”
That nameless boy piped up. “I’d like to have a crack at it.”
I raised a brow. “Please. As if we’d follow orders from someone whose name we don’t even know.”
He frowned, ginger brows swooping down, highlighting the raging red acne plastered across his forehead. “You’re the only one who never bothered to learn it, Adelaide.”
My gaze flicked around the circle. “Surely that’s not—”
“It is true,” he cut in. “Even Sebastos knows it, though his intentions for learning it are less than cordial. Even Fleur—”
Before he could utter anything else, my dagger was against his throat. “Do not say her name.”
He swallowed roughly, the movement pressing his Adam’s apple harder against the blade, drawing blood. I didn’t relent. Not under Mercy’s protests or Ethan’s quiet suggestions. Not even when I felt the intense stare of our watchful instructor burning a hole in the side of my face.
Not until No-Name apologised. “Sorry, Sinclair. I won’t—I won’t say it again.” He gulped, then winced when it drew more blood.
Wordlessly, I withdrew, resheathing the blade without taking my eyes off him.
“It’s Aidan, by the way. My name,” he said, wiping his neck with his palm.
I blinked. “I still don’t care.”
Cohen whistled. “Harsh, Ads.”
I turned my glare on him. “Don’t call me that,” I said at the same time as Eth said, “Don’t call her that.”
Cohen raised his hands in surrender, whistling again—though notably quieter this time.
“Two minutes,” I murmured, glancing at the clock on the wall above the door we’d be entering through.
“Right,” Eth said, immediately snapping back into work-mode. “Mercy votes for Cohen, Cohen votes for himself?”
Cohen nodded.
“Bodie votes for himself, which leeeaves,” he half-sang, pivoting. “Dak, Ace, Aidan, Addie, and me.”
Aidan took the opportunity to play suck-up. “I vote Sinclair.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ew. Veto.”
Eth whipped back round. “Veto? You don’t want TL?”
“Negatory.”
“Ads, TL could put you over the line for Eagle,” Ethan said softly—seriously.
“It could just as easily see me fucked over, dude. I’d rather follow your lead and concentrate on taking out as many targets as possible.
Besides, it’s a nice ass to follow.” I winked, earning a snicker from Mercy, who not-so-subtly ogled the goods and nodded appreciatively. “I vote Taylor,” I said to the group.
Dak pursed his lips, resting his hand on the butt of his holstered gun. He met my gaze head-on, considered for a moment, then dipped his chin. “If Sinclair votes Taylor, then I vote Taylor.”
“Thanks, I think?” Eth frowned.
Ace’s vote, unsurprisingly, went where Dak’s did—meaning Eth was ahead by one vote and he was the only one left unspoken for.
“Mine would have gone to Addie, but since she doesn’t want it, I guess this burden falls to me.” He sighed dramatically, pretending the patch in his hand weighed a metric tonne.
I sighed deeply, already mentally prepping for the task ahead while Eth velcroed the TL patch onto his left arm and a plain red one to mine. The rest of the team slapped their patches on haphazardly, checked their gear again, and waited for instructions to be passed out.
“Time’s up! Team Leaders, report to me,” Pearce called out.
Ethan wasted no time, jogging over to where our instructor stood by the door.
Blue team’s leader went with another approach: Sebastos motherfucking Varco waltzed over like he had all the time in the world, earning Pearce’s ire.
“Just for that, blue team, you get to go in the box first.”
Blue team groaned collectively, more than a few of them shooting dirty glares Seb’s way.
‘The box’ was a soundproof, windowless room in the far corner of the preparation space.
It was designed so that whoever was second to run through the compound couldn’t do so at the advantage of having seen the first team’s run-through via the camera screens and speakers fixed to the wall either side of the entryway door.
Seb smirked, leading his team down to the back corner and shutting the door—but not before shooting me one last, lingering promise of violence in the form of a shark-toothed smile.
Keep smiling, buddy. The only one grinning by the end of the day will be me, when I gut—
“Here’s our mark.” Eth waved a file in front of my face before flipping it open to reveal—
Of fucking course.
That was why the behemoth was conveniently missing.
Our mark was Hunter fucking Beckett.
“Yikes,” Mercy muttered, grimacing.
I was inclined to agree.
“Got a plan, boss?” Dak asked, looking to Eth for answers.
Ethan’s face was uncharacteristically sombre. “Right, so we have no idea how they’ve set up the layout of the compound today, but we know that the big bastard is somewhere in the middle of it, waiting for us. We know that we have to capture—not kill—and I cannot stress that enough, Travers.”
Bodie scowled. “I might be big, but I’m not that stupid.”
“Sixty seconds, red team!” Pearce called.
Eth took a deep breath. “Fuck. Okay. We go in guns blazing. Addie and Dak first—they’re our best shots.
Mercy and I will take up the rear, leaving Ace, Aidan, Cohen, and Bodie to fan out and take up watchdog positions.
Use your comms. The codeword is beefcake if you lay eyes on the target.
Then Ads and I will take him down. The rest of you will restrain and help drag him out, except Ads and Dak who’ll lay down cover fire in case they’ve got something else up their sleeve on the way out. Got it?”
“Got it,” we said in unison, grabbing a set of comms each from the supply table and stepping up to the door. I hated those things—those uncomfortable pieces of plastic that made you feel like your thoughts were never quite your own.
Pearce eyed me as I approached the entryway first, his lips popping open like he wanted to say something. In the end, all that spilled from them was a countdown: “Three, two, one, GO!”
And if I hadn’t been watching him that split-second longer than I ought to have been, I would have missed him mouth the word duck.
I would have failed to react instantly, wouldn’t have even been given the opportunity to trust a man I’d had so little to do with, and I would have been shot in the helmet, given my stature.
As it was, I did react immediately, and Bodie, who was standing directly behind me, copped a round to the chestplate of his bulletproof vest.
“Ooof,” he groaned, stumbling backwards into Mercy.