Chapter 33
chapter
thirty-three
Ender
I’ve been planning this attack for days. Ever since we received word that a settlement was discovered, we’ve been preparing for this. Black Star, along with a small tactical unit, will execute the raid. The sun hasn’t fully risen as we prepare to leave the Forge.
The engine is running as I give my usual speech.
“Don’t die,” I say. “And don’t embarrass me out there either.”
Spider mouths the words alongside me. His lips snap shut when I toss him a dark look.
I slam my palm on the roof of the car.
“Let’s go.”
Haven jogs down the stairs. Her hair is not in its usual braid. It drifts behind her like a shadow.
“Take me with you,” she breathes. “I’m part of the unit.”
“You’re still a recruit. You haven’t yet passed,” I say. “And I decide who comes and stays.”
“But I’m the only one,” she whispers, glancing around. Haven frowns. “The others are all here.”
Even with their faces covered, I’m certain she can make out her peers. This attack is a big deal. My father will have my head if another mission fails. And I don’t exactly trust Haven. Not since Ansel said she was keeping secrets.
“You have an assignment to handle,” I say. I’ve been putting her on different rotations around the Forge, helping out where needed to teach her a lesson. “Perhaps, if you do it in a satisfactor—”
“This is bullshit, Vale, and you know it,” she spits. “You’re punishing me because you’re a sick bastard.”
I straighten, having had enough of this conversation.
I can’t let her get inside my head before one of my biggest takedowns.
This will cement my reputation and shield me from my father’s anger.
He nearly made my ears bleed last night, recounting all my failures.
He even went so far as to blame my new wife, claiming she is distracting me from my duties.
He lingered behind after the party ended. I sent Haven away and instructed Mercy not to come out of her bedroom.
Haven opens her mouth to rage some more, but I clasp her chin.
“Go back inside,” I say forcefully.
Haven frowns.
“What the hell happened to your face?” she asks.
There’s a bruise on my cheek. A dark blue-black mark that looks like a wilting violet. Knox stiffens beside me. He stomps off to the passenger seat. His door slams hard, the sound echoing in the air.
“Wait, did Fraser do this?” she asks. Her finger drifts to her gun, and for a moment, I think she’ll go after him.
A dose of warmth unfurls in my chest at the anger that burns in her eyes. I didn’t think she gave a damn about me.
“No,” I say. “It wasn’t him.”
“Who touched you, Vale?” she asks. “I’ll feed them their fingers.”
My mouth twitches. She is so beautiful when she’s defending me.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, releasing her.
I turn my back on her and hop in the driver’s seat. She’s still standing there, looking torn between coming after me and staying behind. For once, she makes the right choice and spins on her heels, hair floating behind her as she marches up the stairs.
Knox is silent as we drive to our destination.
I sigh deeply. “You’re mad at me.”
“You sent me away,” he says, in an accusing tone. “You told me to take Haven back to the Forge. You never said he was going to stay back. If I knew, I wouldn’t have gone.”
“I messed up those missions,” I say. “I am the one in charge. I had to answer for my mistakes.”
“Bullshit,” Knox snarls.
Knox is rarely in a bad mood. Even when we have to wake up early for work, he always has a big smile on his face.
“Just drop it, Knox,” I say tightly. “I can handle myself.”
“No, fuck him, Ender,” Knox says. “He’s supposed to protect you.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I hiss. “What if our radio is on and it gets back to the command center?”
I fidget with mine, making sure it’s off, and Knox pulls his out to check.
“Look, he did me a favor,” I say. “This.” I point to my cheek. “Is a lot better than being put in solitary.”
I could not afford to lose three weeks at the capital, locked in our basement, and put on a limited diet.
Even though my father hasn’t resorted to his favorite punishment in the past few years.
I still remember the days I’d spend there during my youth.
The chalk-white walls, the infinite silence, the dark.
My powers would be destabilized, so I couldn’t hide in my mind and use the comfort of my illusions to protect myself.
A small, stubborn part of me doesn’t want to spend a week away from Haven to endure my punishment. I reckon the distance would make her forget me.
I was relieved when my father’s fist landed. He rarely loses control of his temper, but something about my behavior around Haven made him wild. He doesn’t like the idea of someone stealing me away from him. I’ve always been his greatest pride and his deepest regret.
“I hate him,” Knox says coldly. “I wish he were dead.”
I stare at the road, not bothering to chastise him for speaking ill of the man who rules us all.
The Supreme Director is the people’s dream. But he has always been my worst nightmare.
I watch the strike team assemble.
The regime likes to make people think that the rebels live in tunnels and decrepit buildings like rats, to dissuade people from joining their ranks.
When the media circulates their videos, the rebels are always in torn clothes with gaunt faces.
But the truth is that some of them have built a life.
They have constructed sturdy houses near ravines, and they maintain vast, green farms that keep them fed.
Their children play in the front yard, and they trade goods with their neighbors.
I study the map of the terrain. There should be a scattering of dots that reveal the heat signatures of the rebels. A couple of markers sit on the display. Far less than we presumed. There should be at least sixty to a hundred people here.
I narrow my eyes.
“Thermal sweep,” I order.
Knox taps at his display.
“Running,” he confirms. “Negative. No significant markers beyond the expected environmental signatures. Most likely animals.”
It’s quieter than expected. We are at the edge of the settlement. There should be a fair bit of noise––the hum of the generators, children’s laughter, or even an exchange of words.
“Keep alert,” I whisper.
I point in two directions, and the teams diverge in clean formation. Boots striking the packed earth with a dull thud.
Structures stand erect in the morning light. Curtains drawn to conceal the inside.
“This doesn’t feel right,” Clover whispers.
My mouth tightens; Clover has a point. Something is off. We struck at dawn, expecting minimal movement, but this is too silent.
The first charge detonates beneath our feet. The ground splits, disintegrating beneath our boots and tossing us flat on our backs. My ears ring, and I squeeze my eyes tight to clear my vision.
Screams sound around me. My unit. I have to get up.
Gunfire erupts from the treetops. This was an ambush. They knew we were coming.
“Adjust formation,” I order. “Take out the snipers.”
Orion aims for the trees, and a body falls with a thump. Smoke blooms across the field, thick and foggy. My shoulder plate gets hit. I immediately aim at the attacker in the distance and watch as my bullet slides between his eyes.
The rebels move in coordinated bursts, herding us with pressure rather than force. They left behind their fighters and evacuated with the young ones and the elderly.
“Maintain position,” I say. “They want us disoriented. Do not fold!”
Another detonation rips through the ground. The force slams me sideways. Debris clips my leg, pain spiking through my flesh. An aide races towards me. A lanky boy who just graduated from university. All high-level officers are required to bring along a medical aide on their missions.
The aide reaches for me.
“Sir—”
“I’m standing,” I snap, already forcing myself upright.
Blood slicks the inside of my trousers, and I ignore the wound.
“Look after the others.”
The realization settles in with cold clarity. They knew we were coming. Someone inside our fold is a traitor.
My gaze flicks instinctively toward the active camera feed on the truck, the one streaming back to the Forge. The officers are watching from the command center and will forward this to my father.
Knox stares at me with concern.
“Retreat?” he asks.
“No,” I say, between gritted teeth.
I refuse to lose.
Another bomb detonates. Screams of pain pierce my ears as the rebels surge forward. They are not trying to kill me. They are trying to capture me.
Knox is right. As much as I want to continue, the risks are too high. We’ve lost before the battle even began, and I refuse to lose any of my people in the hopes of salvaging what looks to be another failed mission.
“Retreat,” I command. “We move on my mark.”
I step back, my boot catching on a limp body.
“I got him,” Orion says, picking up an unconscious Spider.
His head is bleeding, and his tan skin looks ashen. Worry tightens my brows as my fingers search for a pulse.
“He’s alive,” Orion says. “I checked.”
Knox takes the driver’s seat, and I slide into the passenger side while Orion lays an unconscious Spider flat on his back.
I create an illusion, masking us, and hoping it holds. My power feels weak with the injury.
The rebels stand around, confused by our sudden disappearance. It gives us time to slide into our four vehicles. It isn’t until we crank the engine and slam the doors shut that they understand what I’ve done. They still can’t see us, but they shoot blindly in our direction.
“Drive,” I bark.
Knox slams on the gas, and the vehicle lurches.
“How is he?” I ask.
The aide went into the other car. The recruits were in worse shape. Tyson got his arm blown off. A part of me is glad that Haven isn’t here. I don’t know what I would do if she got hurt.
“Silent, for once,” Orion says. “It’s weird.”