Three weeks had passed and while Sloan dreamed less of her fallen friends, sleep was still mostly unattainable. She had kept her promise to Stone and remained silent about what had transpired between her and Jared. She had stopped going for early-morning runs and she hadn’t spoken to him since that morning, but she couldn’t avoid him in the hall; she couldn’t ignore his longing glances. And it killed her as Elijah waited devotedly at her side.
He didn’t ask about anything. He didn’t try to initiate any contact with her. He just stayed with her, seemingly waiting for the day she could fall in love with him. She had tried talking to him, tried pointing out that he couldn’t handle her basic nature, but he ignored her concerns, insisting what had happened with Young had been a mistake, that it didn’t define her. His renewed sense of persistence, however docile it might have seemed, didn’t help her feel any better about the secret she was keeping from him. She had become the one thing she had ridiculed all the men in her life for being—a liar.
She had slept with Jared and still not told him the truth about his family or their role in this place, the truth about their existence here. And every night, despite never having a physical relationship, she slept next to Elijah, and kept from him the fact that she had not only disregarded all of his pursuits but had broken every rule in her one moment of weakness.
She walked with him now, navigating the corridor to the training hall. Stone had asked to speak to them, the first time since she had begged him for his help removing any evidence of her indiscretion. Despite Stone’s insistence on keeping her behavior a secret from Elijah, some irrational part of her feared him saying something that would give the secret away. She was afraid of hurting him, and if anything, that was a testament to having some semblance of feelings for him.
Elijah opened the doors to the hall and she immediately spotted 27 training with another table. Her gaze fell on Jared, who was training with Devon. He looked better—his face had healed quickly and now there were only small glossy scars where the deepest of his wounds had been. Elijah pushed her on—“Come on”—a hand on the small of her back. She carried on quickly but not before Jared had spotted her—his azure gaze holding her. He definitely seemed revitalized, having found renewed purpose: winning her back.
She dropped her gaze. It was too complicated—she wasn’t allowed to be with him, and even if she were, she couldn’t abandon Elijah now, not when they needed her for their mission. She also knew that she couldn’t just forget everything from before, everything that had helped lead to their breakup. Yet his words still rested with her, the truth evident in the fact that in a room of chaos, her eyes found him immediately—because her heart was his and it probably always would be.
Elijah had her presence, Jared kept her heart, but neither boy could understand that she didn’t belong to either of them.
Sloan moved on quickly. She knocked on Stone’s office door and with a raspy bark from the general she let herself in, Elijah following. She had half expected to meet a ridiculing glare, but instead, Stone was staring out the window, his hands held tightly behind his back. He turned slowly and the look in his eyes froze Sloan. His tight mouth twitched over whatever words he was about to say. His grey eyes narrowed in on her, a small shake of his head.
“We can’t speak long,” he finally said, gesturing for them to sit. Elijah slumped down in a chair but Sloan remained standing. He seemed nervous and it made her uneasy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Romani has one of us.”
Sloan backed away from the general as Elijah leaned forward. “What do you know, sir?”
Stone ran a hand over his tired face. “He announced it this morning in a meeting. He believes he’s found a traitor. There will be an execution.”
“Who? Who does he think it is?” Sloan asked, surprised at the calmness in her own voice.
“He didn’t say. It could be any of us. It could be me, it could be you . . .”
At his words, Sloan felt her muscles tighten, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She didn’t fear for her own life, but she wouldn’t lose Elijah or Stone. They had a mission to achieve—a true purpose. They needed to survive this.
“Has this happened before?” she asked.
“Yes. Students he has suspected have been Dismissed, while members of staff are always taken care of in quiet,” Stone explained.
Sloan thought of Tandy. “Wait—does that mean—”
Reading her thoughts, he cut her off. “No. Most of the Dismissed really were just failing to excel . . . but there have been some executed under the same guise.”
She didn’t know if that made her feel better.
“But Sloan ensured there would be no more Dismissed students?” Elijah reminded them.
“Unfortunately, it’s not going to be like that this time.”
Sloan took a step towards them. “What do you mean?”
“He’s talking about making a spectacle. He says the Academy needs to eradicate this issue once and for all.”
Elijah leaned forward in his chair. “What sort of spectacle?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything!” Stone said with an angry smack to his desk.
Sloan and Elijah waited in silence. He was their general; he took the lead on everything. He needed to tell them what to do.
“Have you spoken to the Others yet?” Elijah finally asked.
Stone shook his head solemnly. “Not yet. Hell, I don’t even know where to begin . . .”
Sloan felt anxious. She had never seen Stone nervous, never seen him without an answer. When he spoke again, there was a distinct lack of conviction in his words.
“Just get ready for the Ranking Ceremony. If I find out more I will make contact.” It wasn’t a solution, but it came in the form of an order.
If only it felt like an order.
With no ideas herself, Sloan nodded to him, and Elijah stood. Abruptly, an overwhelming nausea seized her—nearly doubling her over. She grabbed the wall to steady herself and took slow breaths, steadying her stomach. Elijah was at her side in an instant.
“Sloan?” Stone asked, concerned.
She shook her head. “I’m fine . . .” She waved Elijah off. It was nerves. It was hearing this news.
“If it’s you, we will run. I know the passcode to the armory—we could stock up on weapons and head out on a Skyshell . . .” His whispers stumbled out as he formed an uneasy plan. She looked up into his green eyes as they stood adjacent their shower.
“How much thought have you put into this?” she queried, impressed with learning what he knew.
“I told you—I can’t let anything happen to you.”
It didn’t help her sense of guilt to hear him speak like this. She wanted to love him for thinking of her safety first and foremost—but she couldn’t say what first came to her mind when she contemplated escaping; she didn’t want to leave Jared here.
She sighed. “If we go now, we declare our guilt before it’s necessarily ascertained. And if we stay—if it’s not one of us—we might be able to help that person.”
He shook his head at her. “Your safety is more important than whoever else it might be.”
I don’t deserve someone like you.
“Elijah—we can’t run. We need to wait this one out,” she affirmed. He nodded slowly and then pulled her into a hug, vining his strong arms around her. He kissed her temple and she closed her eyes, squeezing him tightly. She did love him in a way—but not the way he wanted her to. And she knew he loved her in a way—just not the way she needed him to.
Sloan dressed in formal white uniform, similar to Elijah’s, and pulled her blond hair back in a bun. This was it. She met Elijah at the pod and they traveled in silence towards the great hall. The Ranking Ceremony would see all of the Academy dressed in their formal whites, a stage would be erected, and Jared would be honored as the first student to ever achieve the rank of major. But Sloan could barely summon feelings for that at the moment—her stomach was twisting in knots, worrying not just for the life of whomever Romani had caught but also for whatever he had planned for them.
What had Stone meant by spectacle?
Stepping into the corridor, Elijah herded her through the crowd of identically dressed students. She winked at Jack, who was filing into the room with his own age group. He waved at her, smiling wildly, and for a brief moment, she had a little joy in her life. She quickly came back to reality, though—especially when she thought about what Jack might hear or see tonight.
As she sat inside and watched the room fill, she saw Stone enter, immediately making his way onto the stage. He wore his formal whites and he no longer seemed nervous, but that was because he seemed so sickly. He kept his head bowed low, his hand resting on the back of his neck, his skin sallow and his face gaunt. On his hip was his service pistol, which took Sloan by surprise—she could not recall the last time she had seen him don the weapon.
As the lights dimmed and the students quieted, the Order entered. Romani led the way, joining Stone on stage. In the dim light Sloan could see Jared, entering the room alone and taking his place at the foot of the stage. He looked perfect, with his dark hair and meticulous uniform, and she was so proud of him, despite knowing the Academy for what it truly was, and who his uncle was. He didn’t know—he had worked hard to earn his promotions. This level was something unprecedented, and it meant he had achieved greatness within this dark place.
“What are you staring at?” Elijah’s quiet voice spooked her. She immediately turned her gaze to him.
“Nothing.”
More lies.
Before they could speak further, Romani stepped to the front of the stage, his white gloves and ivory polished boots matching his uniform to give him an otherworldly appearance. Like a ghost, she thought. He scanned the room, his dark eyes traveling over them.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are here to commend the efforts of one of our own. A young man who has excelled in the Academy with incomparable success, becoming the youngest ever to achieve the rank of major.” His tight voice was hurried but clear, a violin of drawn-out notes.
“Please, welcome your newest major, Jared Jacob Dawson,” he invited, extending his arm out. Jared leaped up the stairs, saluting Romani and the Order. He approached the marshal for his gold stripe. The entire room filled with the echoing claps of awestruck students, of cheers and whistles. Jared beamed as Romani added the stripe to his uniform.
Eventually, though, the clapping trickled to a halt, the cheers died out, and Jared began to shift uncomfortably on his feet—everyone waiting on Romani. Their marshal stood there in silence, a pleased smile painted across his face, his eyes honing in on the students as he looked them over. He rested one arm across his torso, the other propped up so that he could lay his chin on the back of his gloved hand. He continued to stand there, watching, seemingly enjoying the anxious tension his silence created. He glanced to Jared, whispered something, and Jared saluted before backing away and exiting the stage.
Sloan felt her muscles tense, uneasy. She knew Romani wasn’t about to excuse them all—the end of the ceremony was not the end of this night. She stared at Stone until he caught her gaze, and with somber eyes, he shook his head at her. She could feel her heart drop, immediately grabbing Elijah’s hand. Was this it—was it coming?
Romani rolled his fingers under his chin and took a step forward.
“Unfortunately, on what should just be a night of celebration, we have some regrettable news to address,” he finally spoke and all her fears were confirmed. Sloan could feel the students around her shifting uncomfortably, a wave of tension and confusion. She scanned the stands for Jared, to see where he might have taken a seat, but couldn’t find him.
“There is a traitor!”
The silence in the room thickened, overwhelming them all with uncertainty.
“A traitor has resided within these walls, one who has been spying on us all and reporting back to the enemy. One who has feigned loyalty and betrayed us. No—betrayed Dei Terra!” Romani was practically screaming, dramatically waving his hand out, pointing at the sea of students.
Sloan felt dizzy, her lungs tightening and her hand shaking in Elijah’s. Around her, students stirred, all whispers and gasping speculations. She felt her stomach convulse and, worried she would be sick, bowed her head down, leaning over. She took deep breaths, trying to soothe her nerves. A scuffle of noise drew her eyes up as the doors to the hall opened and rows of sentries entered, armed. Students stood, watching, waiting. She craned her neck around the boy in front of her to see the swarm of ivory guards surround the room, some making their way to the stage.
Elijah abruptly stood. “No . . .”
She pulled at his hand and brought him back to his seat, hoping he hadn’t drawn attention to himself. All the while, nausea was a knife in her side, and she winced in pain. After a deep breath, she whispered, “What is it?” but he said nothing. Elijah simply stared ahead. So she forced herself upright, breathing through the pain, and what she saw nearly made her double over once again.
Romani was attempting to silence the room and slowly students began to take their seats, but they struggled to remain quiet. For on the stage, kneeling, bound and gagged, was Donny—Elijah’s friend from Aviation. He was covered in fresh welts, cuts and bruises, and Sloan was surprised he could even hold himself up. Guards—as well as Colonel Don Luke, the head of Aviation—flanked him. She watched as Stone approached to stand beside the colonel, wondering desperately if he had a plan.
Romani paced the stage in front of Donny.
“Donald Roberts is a traitor!” His loud voice was venomous, filled with a vitriol that spread through the Academy like a virus. Students began to shout, knocking into one another, calling out epithets and threatening Donny. Elijah jerked but Sloan held him tightly beside her.
“Let go,” he whispered urgently.
She gripped him tighter. “Not a chance.” She wasn’t going to let him die too.
Romani continued to rile up the room. “For endangering the lives of each and every one of you,” he spoke, nodding at the students, “we, the Order, sentence Donald Roberts to death.”
Sloan knew what was happening, yet she couldn’t believe it. In her near decade and a half at the Academy, there had never been a public execution.
“Colonel,” Romani said loudly, “if you will.”
The colonel pulled his pistol. Donny thrashed out violently, screams muffled. The flanking sentries kicked him to the side, a foot in the back to hold him down.
Sloan wanted to move, to be sick, to save him. To save Elijah from the pain he was about to experience. Yet any movement would give them away.
And once more—I fail to save someone. . .
The colonel’s hand shook violently as he aimed his weapon. The older man took a deep breath but he was on the verge of tears. He was the head of Aviation; Donny was to him what West would have been to Stone. Sloan could tell the man was struggling between his duty and his conscience—but he needed to make a decision. If the Academy abhorred one thing, it was weakness, and this compassion would surely be seen as such.
Suddenly, Stone reached for the service pistol. He offered the colonel an understanding look. The two men held gazes, nodding. Stone trained the gun on the back of Donny’s head. The general shot one last look towards Sloan, dipped his head in apology and looked away.
Sloan squeezed Elijah’s hand—there was nothing she could do to save him from this horror. The body of students watched on, seemingly entranced. The room found a perfect stillness, and all was quiet barring the muffled protestations from Donny.
And then a single shot echoed through the room.
Stone stood still, his arm still outstretched, the gun still aimed. A pool of blood spread out around Donny’s fiery hair. It trickled towards Romani’s ivory boots. He took a small step back. Sloan could see, with perfect clarity, the body of Kevin Young, lying lifeless on the stage. She blinked away the dark vision. Turning to Elijah she found him wide-eyed and stone-faced. His glossy eyes filled with rage and devastation. She squeezed his hand tighter but it had no effect. He had joined a club; he had now suffered a loss that made him comparable to herself and Jared. A panic rushed over her at the thought of Elijah changing too.
“Let this go as a warning. We know you’re here and we will find you.” Romani’s voice cut through them. With a casual wave of his hand he turned from them.
“You’re dismissed.”
Elijah had practically dragged her through the sea of students, pulling rank to get the first available pod. They stepped into his living quarters and she watched him pace, his hands curled in tight, shaking fists, struggling to keep his outburst in lest whoever may be listening hear Elijah’s true nature. She approached him slowly, offering her hand. His sad eyes fell on her and it was more than she thought she could stand to see. He took her hand and she led him to the bathroom. Twisting the shower taps on she stumbled into the water, pulling him under with her. It was too hot and it burnt her skin through her clothes but it didn’t matter. So few things mattered still.
The weight of his pain crumbled him, and they sunk to the floor in a soaked mess. He tucked his head against her and cried, holding on to her, cracking under her fingertips. She squeezed him tightly, hopeful that if she could do it just right, do for him what he had done for her, she could keep him from falling to pieces.
The three of them sat in Stone’s office in silence. It had been four days since Donny’s execution and while Jared had tried to talk to her every chance he got—Elijah had barely said a word. She hadn’t pressed him; his silence was much kinder than how she had handled her own sorrow.
“Romani found the jammer in his workshop,” Stone finally spoke. He had aged years in a week.
“This is my fault,” Elijah said. “That was the jammer I needed to speak to Sloan in the woods.” His voice sounded foreign to her ears—she hadn’t noticed how much she had missed hearing it.
“You’re not the one who put a bullet in his head,” Stone argued.
“I might as well have—”
Sloan pushed her chair back. “Stop it. This is neither of your faults . . . Romani is responsible for this.” The two men looked to her, hopeful, seeking forgiveness for things that had been out of their control. She had become an expert at recognizing that look—having seen it so often in her own reflection.
She stood. “I’m sorry this has happened—I could just as easily blame myself—but we can’t fix this. What we can do, though, is be more vigilant. All the jammers—barring yours, General—should be destroyed. Once that’s done, we need to formulate a plan, a way to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”
Stone stared up at her, nodding in agreement. “Good . . . that’s good, Radcliffe.”
“Okay . . . then I think I have a plan,” she announced. The thought had just come to her and she wasn’t sure how they would respond to it. They continued to watch her with expectant gazes.
“When can you gather us—and I mean all of us—in one place? We need a place to talk candidly as a group . . . and it’s time I meet the Others here.” At her words, Elijah grabbed her hand, supporting her decision.
But Stone seemed less sure. “Gather forty-three senior students in one sitting? I don’t think we can pull that off.”
The number startled Sloan, and her mind started racing. She knew there were more than just the three of them—but not that many more.
“Excursion,” Elijah blurted out.
“What?”
“Come up with a reason to lead an excursion in the woods, say you have something special in mind, or make up a reason we forty-three need to be with you, maybe need to train in something specific . . . I don’t know . . .” He rambled. Sloan looked from him to the general.
“Actually, there could be one way . . .” Stone agreed, finally nodding with some excitement.
“Yes. Yes, I think I have an idea. You two finish up here. I will be in touch,” Stone announced, standing. He made his way around the desk and to his door. He turned, though, and spoke once more. “Sloan?”
She turned to him.
“Well done.”
She smiled and watched him leave, thankful to have finally been of some help.
Elijah stood and turned to her, eyeing her up slowly.
She waited for him to say something but he remained silent—so she spoke. “What?”
He shrugged. “Why has Jared been trying to talk to you every day this week?”
Her heart began to race . . . Elijah had been understandably seeming to pay no attention to her since Donny. But it turned out he had been. Every time Jared tapped her shoulder in class and she shook it off, when he called out to her in the hall and she ducked into a room, when he tried to join her sparring sessions and she walked out . . .
“I don’t know,” she lied. Well, it was a half lie. She wasn’t exactly certain why he was trying to talk to her—even if she could make a few educated guesses.
“Sloan—I know how you feel about him, and we all know how he feels about you. Is there something I need to know?”
She took a deep breath. “He wants me back. That’s no secret . . . but I told him I was betrothed to you now.”
He nodded, seemingly done with this conversation. He moved past her but hesitated at the door. “Sloan?”
She turned, staring at him. “Yeah?”
“You know I’m in love with you, right? I’m still so in love with you.”
She nodded slowly. “I know you are . . .”
There were a few faces she recognized. Some she knew by name, some whose presence surprised her. Did she surprise them as well, or had they all known she would join them eventually? It had taken four days but Stone had finally managed to come up with a reason to get all forty-three of them out on excursion. His idea was as ingenious as it was chilling. He had convinced Romani that he could put together an elite team who would essentially spy on their peers to sift out the traitors, putting forward the potential hunted as hunters.
Romani had readily agreed.
She stood on the platform of the garage as Elijah hoisted their bags into the grey terrain vehicle. She wanted to say something, to distract him from whatever thoughts came from being in such close proximity to Donny’s place, but she didn’t know what to say.
She instead leaned against the vehicle and watched him thoughtfully, waiting for him to need something. While she did, the large group of surrounding students were packing up vehicles and talking loudly—they were excited. The voice that made her turn didn’t quite reflect that excitement.
“So I suppose we have you to thank for this little outing?”
The wry words belonged to a boy Sloan recognized from class—Samuel Chase. He was an adept fighter, but his gift was truly in academics, as he was one of the smartest of the senior students.
“No, not really.” She shrugged, not quite sure what any of them had been told. She realized that although she recognized these students—she didn’t really recognize them. She couldn’t help but wonder how many boys fit into that category at the Academy, how many of them she had categorized as “not-Jared.”
In Samuel’s case, she saw he was tall, with a mess of dark hair and grey eyes. As if understanding their seeming disconnect after all these years sitting in the same class, he held out his hand. “Well, I’m Samuel Chase.”
“I know, you’re on 55—” she began, taking his hand, but he cut her off.
“Lieutenant Sloan Radcliffe. We all know who you are.”
Sloan didn’t like the way he spoke and pulled her hand free from his grip. He studied her for a moment, taking in her features, nodding slowly.
“Hopefully you’re as good as they say you are.” He smiled.
She shrugged off his words. “Hopefully you’re as smart as they say you are.”
He laughed, raising his hands in a defeated motion. Before he could say anymore, Elijah appeared. “Leave her be, Chase.” He stood beside Sloan defensively. Chase shrugged, smiling at her, before nodding and turning away.
Sloan watched him join the others. A few of them turned, looking her over, whispering amongst themselves. She turned to Elijah. “Why do I get the feeling I am the center of attention here?”
He shrugged. “Because you are. These guys have waited a long time to meet Stone’s favorite—the Academy’s best.”
Sloan thought over his words. She had spent years in the near exclusive company of Jared—they had bonded over the treatment, both negative and positive, they received for their status. Now, she was with the Others—the ones whom she had always felt judging her from a distance—and she wasn’t sure what being in their company would entail.