When Sloan woke up, Jared was sitting at the end of their bed. She had a headache; her hair was damp with sweat. She felt disoriented and her eyes burnt with dried tears.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning over to her.
Her throat was hot and swollen. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Say it’s me. Say you would choose me.” She wanted to reach out to him, but she was too upset to comfort him. Refusing her instincts felt wrong—she had only ever known how to love him, how to help him. She had never learned how to hurt him. And she didn’t want to. She wanted to love him so much she could forget he had ever figured out how to hurt her.
“I did choose you, Jared. And I would have if presented with the choice too. Do you know how much it hurts that you didn’t know that? That it has always been only you.”
It’s still only you. Sloan studied the dark outline of this man who had hurt her and saw instead a memory of the boy she had first loved. She had been four years old—crying in the dining hall—missing a family she now couldn’t really remember having ever known. He had walked over to her, sat down beside her and held her hand. “I’m all alone,” she’d said. He squeezed her small fingers tightly, inching next to her.
“Not anymore.”
He moved closer to her on the bed, relief on his face. “So, you see why Elijah has to go now, right?”
What? It was not at all what she had expected him to say. Sloan pulled away from him, sitting up slowly. “Wait—you’re still going through with Fight Night?”
He nodded slowly. “I have to.”
“But I choose you.”
He shook his head at her, his eyes narrowing. “You still don’t understand.”
“Jared, pull out of Fight Night and I will stay with you, I will marry you, I won’t ever tell anyone he was paired with me.”
“He won’t ever let that happen, Sloan. He will go into Fight Night and demand the Order give you to him as his Winnings. I can’t back out; it’s the only way to ensure you stay rightfully mine.”
What?
Elijah’s former words crossed her mind. “Are you sure you’re rightfully his?”
She wasn’t rightfully either of theirs. She had been wrong to ever use that word; she hadn’t meant it the way Jared and Elijah had.
She stood from the bed, steadying herself with the wall. “I am not rightfully yours—I choose you. I made a choice. I’m not going to just be given to him.”
He stood. “Can’t you see? You don’t have a choice.”
“Then let him ask! Let Elijah ask for me, beat him in the fight and we will carry on with our lives. But, Jared, please do not ask for him to be sent to Review.”
He cursed under his breath, and with a sudden jolt, he hit the wall. “Dammit, Sloan. I don’t have a choice either. He won’t stop until I lose you—he will challenge me in championship fights again and again until the Order gives you to him.”
Sloan stared at him. This wasn’t possible—there was no way they could just give her to Elijah. And then she recalled how easily they had objectified her before, and the thought became much more terrifying.
“But they can’t do that. I want you, I won’t leave you.”
“Yes, they can.”
Sloan walked out of the bedroom aimlessly, shock overwhelming her. They couldn’t do this—this couldn’t be a possibility. He followed her into their living quarters.
“I’m not property, Jared.”
“The Academy’s favored daughter is given to their favored son. Daniels and I are neck and neck here . . . If he takes my championship, he will ask them to change their decision about our pairing.”
Sloan felt sick. She needed to get out of here, to scream, to run, to fight her way out of this mess. She urgently searched for her shoes.
I am not something the Order can gift to the Academy’s best captain. I am not a prize. She thought of the strings Jared had pulled, of Fight Night, of the threat of death happening in her name. She would not be the spoils going to their prize stud, like she apparently—unknowingly—always had been.
Sloan took deep measured breaths of the cool night air. It was late and the field was bare, completely dark barring a few floodlights on the perimeter. She ran to clear her head but couldn’t get Jared off her mind. She sped up her pace.
She thought of their love and all they shared. Their laughs, their tears, their bodies . . . Had it all been a reward for having been the best? Had she made herself this trophy by pushing herself so hard? She had only ever worked to achieve such status for Jared, not for anyone else. Even, she could admit, not for herself. Yes, a part of her wanted to be the best, but it didn’t define her. The responsibility that it had brought on was enough to buckle her most days, but it had been worth it to be with him. Had she let love blind her so greatly to what was going on around her?
She pushed past the pain in her heart, extending her legs further, curving away from the reach of the floodlights and turning into the darkness. With a sharp smack Sloan went flying into the air. She fell, tuck-and-rolled and lay sprawled in the grass.
“OW!” another voice barked.
She had tripped over someone. She quickly rolled to her knees, looking back. She strained her eyes in the dark. Adjusting to the low light, she saw Elijah sitting up, brushing off his knee.
“Of course it’s you . . .” she hissed, rolling back to lie down, catching her breath. She could feel a graze on her elbow. “Just go away, Daniels.”
He crawled over to her anyway. Because apparently what I say or want means nothing.
“Couldn’t be nicer to someone you just trampled?”
“You don’t deserve it,” she said, feeling no remorse. She didn’t care about him. He nodded, remaining silent.
“I told you to leave,” she reminded.
“Well, unlike you, I have the right to make my own choices.”
Sloan bolted upright, furious. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that.”
“Relax,” he added quickly. “It was just a joke.”
“I don’t care if it was a joke. I don’t want to hear your jokes. I don’t want to hear anything from you at all.”
He remained silent—effectively scolded.
Sloan took a deep breath, brushing grass off herself. “What are you even doing out here?” she demanded.
He shrugged his large shoulders. “Getting perspective.”
She shook her head. That’s rich. “On what? The fact that you’re ruining someone’s relationship?”
“No,” he answered through grinding teeth. “I just like to look at the sky sometimes . . . It’s the same sky that our families are seeing . . .”
Sloan might have hated this boy with a fiery passion but she wouldn’t poke fun at him for trying to reminisce over his family.
Slowly, she turned her gaze upward. The midnight blue span was bedazzled with a million marvelous crystals. It was incredible but it didn’t help her put a face to the parents who might also be looking up at it. She watched the sky transform above her, stars dancing and shooting. She didn’t want to be out here with him and she didn’t want to be inside with Jared.
“It all reminds me that this is just a place, just a time in our lives, that there’s more out there.” He spoke softly.
She turned to him. “It might be just a place but it’s the place that made us—and it might just be a time in our lives, but the way you’re going it could be where your life ends, and it could be where you ruin my life.”
“I’m not trying to ruin your life,” he whispered softly.
That seems to be exactly what you’re trying to do.
He took a deep breath before adding, “The Academy ruins lives.”
His words shocked her. Whether there was truth in them or not—no one spoke about the Academy like that.
“If you think the Academy ruins lives then why are you so hell-bent on having the Order honor Nuptia’s pairing between us?”
He looked away from her. “Jared told you that’s what I’m going to ask for?”
She didn’t need to answer. Of course she knew now.
He sighed heavily. “Look, Nuptia might ruin lives, but it’s not wrong about who makes good partners. I need someone I can trust, a partner.”
Sloan thought of Kenny, of Cassie Flatt, of the very situation she found herself in with Jared and Elijah. It did ruin lives.
“I get that, Elijah, I really do . . . but it won’t be me. Jared will ultimately try to get you Dismissed and you need to know, regardless of the fight, regardless of anything, I won’t choose you.”
If Jared went ahead with his murderous plans, though, she didn’t know if she could choose him either.
He nodded at her slowly. “I won’t need you to choose.”
His words mirrored Jared.
She leaped to her feet—she had heard enough. “Screw you, Daniels.”
As she stormed off she gasped for air, her emotions finally overwhelming her. She wasn’t property. She deserved to have a choice in all of this—she couldn’t just be given away by the Order. As she made futile attempts to hold back her tears, the skies above thundered, breaking the night open, releasing a shower of rain on her. She picked up her pace, but her mounting sobs began to ripple through her body, taking her over.
Her wet hair stuck to her face and she tried to push it out of her eyes with trembling hands. Her clothes clung to her small frame and slowed her. She heaved for a breath. Suddenly, Elijah was in front of her, his arms locking around her. She struck at him wildly, hitting him in the chest, trying to push him away from her.
“I hate you, don’t you understand that? I will never choose you,” she cried. He pushed past her sad assaults, past her hard words, and pulled her against his chest, letting her cry, letting her lash out against him.
“He doesn’t love me enough to change his mind,” she sobbed. He held her tightly, letting her break in his arms.
Through her mounting wails and the thunderous sky, she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard him whisper, “He doesn’t love you the way I do.”
Fight Night was a week away. Sloan and Jared had barely spoken to one another. He was hell-bent on following through with his plans, despite her best efforts to change his mind. How couldn’t he see that if he became someone murderous she couldn’t love him the same way she always had? All he knew was that if he won his fight, he would keep her, with or without her consent. It was the only thought Jared and Elijah cared about. They didn’t seem to care that if they won her over that way, she would never forgive them. She would never love them the way they hoped their win would ensure.
For a while, she had felt perpetually sick, knowing how much of her life wasn’t her own. Until she remembered something that finally offered her a small degree of relief—she would have Winnings in Fight Night too.
General Stone circled a group of senior girls practicing Krav Maga. “Sir, can I speak to you?”
“Lieutenant, I will be with you in a minute for training,” he answered dismissively.
They too had barely spoken recently. She hadn’t known what to say to him about the fight the Order forced her into, and he seemed to have nothing to say to her about it.
“Sir, this isn’t about training.”
He shot her a questioning glance, but lifted his whistle and signaled the girls to stop.
It’s nice to know there are still some privileges for being their champion.
“My office,” he ordered, leading her to the back of the hall. She followed quickly, slamming the door shut behind them.
He sat down heavily in his chair, running his hands over his grey hair. She sat opposite him. She had never really noticed him ageing, but seeing him now, weary and tired, she could see it. His haggard hands and the deep lines around his eyes were all more prominent under the dull fluorescent lights.
“What’s going on, Radcliffe?” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his broad chest. She explained what she was going to ask for from the Order when she won and she watched the incredulous look grow on Stone’s face. He stifled a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.
“All I can tell you is no one has ever asked for that.”
“But I am allowed to ask for it?”
“You can ask for anything aside from a direct Dismissal of another student,” he answered.
To Jared’s great annoyance. . .
He cleared his throat. “But it is unorthodox and—”
“But, sir—”
He raised a hand to ward off her protest. “I’m not saying don’t do it, Radcliffe, I am just saying”—he lowered his voice, speaking softer but somehow more seriously—“you’re walking a fine line when you try to defy the Order . . .”
Sloan took a deep breath, taking in his ominous words. She knew that he was right. She thought of the fight they had forced her and Jared into; she thought of how they could give her away to Elijah if they so chose; she thought of Romani and his objectification of her; she thought of Tandy and Kenny . . .
Screw the Order—they were the ones walking a fine line by testing her limits.
“I’m not afraid,” she answered boldly, acknowledging the fact that she did have something to be afraid of by pursuing this train of thought.
He nodded at her slowly, understanding her motives.
“Radcliffe, about the other night, and everything that is going on with you and Dawson and Daniels—I am sorry . . .” he offered, lowering his gruff demeanor, regarding her with sincere apology in his eyes.
She shrugged, dejected, resigned to her role here—to the way the Academy saw her . . . but she wouldn’t go quietly, she wouldn’t accept objectification without putting up a fight.
“All I am in this place is property,” she admitted boldly. What did she have to lose in being candid? She trusted this man with her life. She expected him to understand, but even if he didn’t, what would it change? The Order didn’t care if she knew how they saw her; they believed there was nothing she could do about it anyway.
“No, Radcliffe, not to me you aren’t. You’re the greatest student this place has ever seen. Believe me, I’ve trained them all.” He leaned across the desk, speaking so softly she almost didn’t hear him. “And that makes you dangerous.”
Fight Night Prep was the preview sparring session between all the contenders—while it was meant to be an opportunity to display exercise and control in the ring, it was really just a highlight reel of what was to come. Sloan paced, stretching out her arms. She looked to Jared, warming up with Will; to Maya Woods, speaking to a group of her friends; to Elijah, who watched her warily as he loosened up . . . and she felt nothing. She felt numb.
Jared didn’t love her enough to change his mind, Elijah wanted her so badly he would hurt anyone in the process of getting her, and the Order—the people whom she had put all her faith in—viewed her as their property, as a prize. There was only one person in this entire Academy who could see her for what she was—Stone. She was dangerous. She had been pushed too far.
Stone cleared his throat loudly. “Daniels and Radcliffe, Dawson and Woods, front and center. Everyone else, take a seat—this is Fight Night Prep!” His voice boomed through the hall. Students began to file into the stands as the four of them congregated on the training mats, circling Stone.
“Dawson—spar with Woods; Daniels, you take Radcliffe. When I blow my whistle, you swap whom you’re sparring with.”
Sloan squared off with Elijah. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night in the rain. She didn’t want to speak to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, eyeing her up cautiously. She said nothing, her hands tightening into fists, squaring off with him.
She found her balance, rolling her head around, loosening up her neck. At the sound of the whistle, she gave in to her basic nature. She felt the adrenaline speed through her, she found the silence in the room despite all the noise, her vision narrowed in on her target, and she jumped—aiming a spinning kick at Elijah.
He blocked, narrowly escaping her assault. She spun and connected a roundhouse against him. He had a startled look in his eyes—surprised by her unbridled attack.
Still want me now? she thought, leaping forward and locking him with her legs in a scissor kick. He rolled to the ground with her—and she came out on top. She struck at him violently with quick, precise jabs. She got his cheek, his neck and his temple. With a swift shove, he sent her flying off him. She was on her feet first and made the first strike—she was too fast for him now.
He swung at her but she ducked, coming up behind him and pulling him into a chokehold. He flung his body forward, sending her flying over the top of him. She rolled to the ground, ready to make her next move, as the whistle blew.
Maya had leaped at the opportunity and Sloan barely caught the girl’s foot as it came flying towards her face. She wrenched Maya’s ankle, rolling to the side, and kicked at her knee. She jumped to her feet as Maya fell to her knees in pain.
You really think you’re any match for me? She leaped, spiraling in the air, landing a back kick on the other girl. Maya fell back, rolling to the side, pushing herself up to her feet.
Sloan took a confident step towards her, lowering her guard. “Is this all you’ve got?” she berated her. Maya swung but Sloan caught her wrist, twisting it inward until Maya buckled at the waist. Sloan kneed her in the chest, and if that weren’t enough, she kicked in the back of Maya’s leg, forcing her to the ground—for good measure.
Sloan held her down forcefully. Incapacitating her gave her a chance to see Jared and Elijah—fighting full force for the first time.
Every strike, every hit and kick . . . they were too similar. They moved with dangerous speed. Jared performed double roundhouse kicks, which Elijah blocked and answered with spinning hook kicks. They moved one another into locks as quickly as they broke free from them. They were incredible to watch.
It filled Sloan with terror—and with loathing. They fought so hard for her, to control her, to win her. She watched them move and saw the brilliance in their abilities and knew, with absolute certainty, that there was only one other student here who could fight like that—her.
She kept her eyes trained on them and found a deep desire to hit them—to hurt them, the way they had hurt her.
The whistle blew and Elijah immediately stopped his intended assault and turned away from Jared. Taking his exit as an easy opportunity, Jared nailed Elijah’s ribs with a heavy side kick. They all heard the deafening snap. The look on Elijah’s face confirmed the break.
Stone blew his whistle sharply. “Dawson!”
Jared paid no attention to Stone. He grabbed Elijah, ready to hit him again. The rules don’t apply to us—not anymore, Sloan thought. She flung Maya’s small body away from her, and leaped towards the guys.
She blocked Jared’s next hit and the look in his eyes was pure anger—but it paled in comparison to her rage. He had devastated her—she wanted him to know her pain.
She hit him with a double upper cut, and stepping into him, she cuffed him with an elbow strike. Before he could pull away, she kneed him in the abdomen, and as he lurched back, she landed a forward kick. He moved to grab her, to cage her with his arms, but she was too fast. She ducked, grabbing his arm and pulling it back in a lock, using all her might. She kicked at his legs, landing him flat on his stomach. She kneeled, holding his strong arm back, and kneed him in the ribs, feeling him break against her.
It hurts, doesn’t it—being betrayed by the one you love?
Sloan was startled as a strong arm began to pull her away from Jared—it was Elijah. She spiraled in his grip, hitting him forcefully. He let her go and she struck a forward kick against his diaphragm. Jared was in front of her in an instant, in obvious pain, fear in his eyes as he watched her lose control.
“Sloan,” he began, but she didn’t want to hear it. She backhanded him, turning in time to kick Elijah back away from her. In her periphery, she saw Maya leap.
Stay out of this, amateur.
Sloan caught the girl, striking her in the temple as she flung Maya to the side. Elijah and Jared stood beside one another, both bruised and broken, both keenly aware of her rage.
Jared reached for her hand—big mistake. She grabbed his wrist, viciously turning it back as she twirled in, landing a back kick against his chest. Elijah moved to grab her, and she struck at his throat. She fell to the floor and spiraled on her foot, using her extended leg to kick his feet out from underneath him.
And then there was perfect silence—a moment of pure stillness. She rested, perched on her haunches, ready to strike out. The boys rolled to their feet, slowly rising. Maya was still on the floor, nursing her wounds, barely moving.
“Radcliffe.” Stone’s voice filled the room. She ignored him. Jared and Elijah, probably unbeknownst to them, raised their hands slowly, offering peace as they regarded her with fear.
Jared took a slow step towards her, extending his hand. She leaped to her feet, backing up. “Don’t touch me!”
Her angry order echoed through the room. Stone slowly stepped onto the training mat. Sloan was aware that everyone was watching—she didn’t care.
“Sloan,” Elijah began but Stone grabbed the boy’s shoulder and held him back. “Don’t touch her. No one touch her.”
Sloan’s breath began to return, slowly filling her lungs. She could see the look of fear in all of their eyes, she could sense the tension in the room, and the way they all circled her—like she was a wild animal.
She regained her composure, pulling her shoulders back tightly, looking at the damage she had done. She looked at the shock, the concern and the pain in Elijah’s and Jared’s faces. She shook her head. She didn’t need to be here—she didn’t need to stay here. She looked from the boy who broke her heart, to the one who had wanted to win it, to the man who had trained her to be this lethal—and she had no idea which one she was addressing when she spoke. “See what you’ve made me?”