The other students had often called the small wooden cabins relics, but Sloan liked their antiquated look. She found them oddly charming, even if she wouldn’t admit it aloud. Elijah grabbed their bags, his boots loudly crunching the fallen pines. She nudged an ashen stone into the grey heap—someone’s abandoned fire pit. Elijah made a beeline for the nearest cabin, number 13. Sloan shook her head. “No, not that one,” she protested.
They had gone the remainder of their trip in silence, speculation plaguing her. She had led him away from 13—that was her and Jared’s cabin . . . or, at least, it had been. Elijah followed her, too polite to argue. She halted at the steps leading up to the deck, letting Elijah go first. He pressed his thumb to a discreet scanner, entering the cabin via biometrics.
She waited until he was inside before walking back over to 13. She ran her hand over the cedar deck. She braved a step. She closed her eyes— the overflying birds called to her, the light breeze played through her hair, urging her towards the cabin door—towards her past life. She brought her hand to her neck, pulling the leather band out from under her shirt and holding the gold ring tightly against her palm.
Her eyes flew open and she retreated from the cabin. This place holds too many memories of him.
She spun around and took quick steps towards the new cabin. She stepped through the door and was thankful that this cabin wasn’t a replica of 13. It was a large open-plan room, with a kitchen area, a sofa, a fireplace and one massive bed, covered in quilts. “I’ll go get the food containers,” Elijah announced, walking past her to get the food the Academy kitchen had stocked their car with.
She was alone. She looked at the bed and sighed heavily—she felt uncomfortable. She didn’t belong here, not with him. And though it was too late to deny the hold he had on her, she felt like everything she had thought she knew about him had been wrong. He wasn’t just a cocky pest, as she first knew him to be, nor was he a calm introvert, as she had seen him in his quiet moments. He was an eccentric lunatic who carried contraband signal jammers and suffered from paranoia. That he loved her was not in doubt, but whether she could trust that kind of love—or anything about him—was impossible to tell.
He reappeared, walking past her to drop a chrome cooler box down in the kitchen. He watched her from across the room before finally speaking. “Let’s go for a walk?”
She shrugged at the suggestion but followed him as he strode out the door anyway. He walked to the vehicle, leaning through the window, and pulled out the serial drive and a small black box she hadn’t seen before. Not with the signal jammer again . . . She sighed heavily but continued to follow him. It dawned on her that if she was willing to follow someone whom she believed to be insane then maybe she was a little crazy herself.
For some reason, it was the first thought that had made her smile in a long time.
She pushed her boots hard into the sloping hill, treading over the soft terrain with concentration. Elijah found a grassy mound beside the lake and took a seat. She sat across from him, running her fingers through the lush green blades, the cold dew soothing her injuries. The lake was clear as glass, framed with a perimeter of green and gold trees. She had always loved this place—but watching as Elijah shoved the serial drive into the black box certainly took away from the joy she usually felt being out here.
“Do I even want to know?”
The box began to flash with a small green light. “This is their island, Sloan. They could have devices anywhere—everywhere—to hear every word we say. Hence, the signal jammers out here, speaking to you under the sound of the shower earlier . . .”
“Stop. Just . . . stop.”
He nodded at her, unaffected. “I know it’s all pretty overwhelming.”
“That’s not a word I would use to describe this,” she explained, shaking her hand at the blinking box.
After a long silence he drew a deep breath. “I know things . . . things you would want to know.”
She arched her brow at his vagueness. “Well?”
He sighed heavily. “Your family is alive. They run a hospital in a small town on the eastern coast, outside Fort Destiny.”
She was surprised at his words—but they didn’t really prove anything. The Order had told them all their families were fine in the last War Front Collective. The rest he could have found out somehow or was simply making up.
Wait—Fort Destiny. Where the attack had just happened?
As though he could read her mind, he spoke again. “They’re alright, they weren’t hurt by what happened there.”
She shook her head at him. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”
“I made a point of finding out—I knew I would need to tell you when I finally had the opportunity to show you the truth.”
“How? Found out how?” she demanded.
He shook his head, chewing on the side of his mouth anxiously. “The Others told me.”
It took her a moment to react. Then she was on her feet, backing away from him. He was a traitor. “You’re a defector . . .” She turned and began to scramble back up the hill. She had been lured here by the enemy and a thousand thoughts rushed through her mind. How had they gotten to him? Were there more at the Academy? If he was right about the Order listening in then could she get far enough away from that blinking box and scream for help?
“Sloan, come back, calm down,” he called after her.
“Stay away from me,” she yelled over her shoulder, getting back up to the campsite.
“Dammit, just stop for a minute and let me explain!”
She could hear he had stopped following her and slowly she turned around to face him.
“Why should I trust anything you say?”
“Because if you have learned one thing about me it’s that I wouldn’t hurt you—that I wouldn’t betray you.”
He took a step towards her, the black box still in hand. She took a step back. He raised his hands, as if to show he wasn’t a threat.
I’ll hear him out and then turn him in, she thought.
He kicked at the ground, seemingly frustrated. “I didn’t want to tell you this bit so soon—I wanted to wait till—” he began, but she cut him off.
“Till my heart was yours to break?” She echoed his former words. “It will never be yours to break. You have no hold on my heart, Elijah; just get that into your head!”
She could see her words wash over him and a resolute look overtook his face. She had hurt him.
“Fine. Then here it is—the Others aren’t others at all. They’re us. Our families, our people. The Academy, Romani—they are the real enemy from Dei Terra.”
What? She shook her head at his cold admission. “That’s not possible . . .”
He took a step towards her. “We weren’t volunteered by our families, Sloan. We were kidnapped, taken to be brainwashed to fight for the enemy against our own people.”
Sloan started to pace back, certain she couldn’t hear any more of this. She took another step but tripped over a pine branch, falling hard to the ground. He made to move towards her, but halted as she pointed at him wildly. “Don’t touch me, Elijah!”
He knelt down across from her. “I didn’t believe it either. When first contact was made a few years ago, I resisted. But then I spoke to my family—I still had a family, and I learned the truth.” His words were rushed and anxious, as if he could feel the clock ticking before she fled again. She slowly pushed herself to her feet and he stood, paralleling her.
“There are people on this island that you cannot trust,” he said.
Like you, she thought, backing away from him. His green eyes held on to her, his mouth curving with each word, and she couldn’t help but think of how she had let him kiss her. She felt nauseous. And for the first time in her life, her body betrayed her. Her legs buckled; she fell and crashed to the soft earth. Her mind whirled with incoherent thoughts. She lost all sense of the world around her, but she could feel herself being lifted from the ground. She blinked—Elijah’s face was a blur. For the first time ever, Sloan Radcliffe fainted.
Sloan woke with a stir, disoriented. It was dark out and it took her a minute to recall where she was, and as suddenly as that recollection transpired, she remembered whom she was there with. She lurched to get off the bed, but found her hands had been bound. She wriggled over to her side and saw Elijah sitting in a chair, watching her attentively.
“Untie me.”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, but that is for my protection,” he said, gesturing to the ties. “I swore I wouldn’t hurt you, but I won’t let you hurt me either.”
Sloan pushed herself upright. “Trust me, I am going to hurt you. I will kill you with my bare bound hands if you don’t untie me.”
Elijah got to his feet, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Fine—I will untie you. But only if you swear you’ll listen to me.”
“To more of your lunacy? Why would I listen to anything you had to say? You’re one of them.”
He crossed his arms, staring down at her. “Your anger doesn’t exactly compel me to set you free.”
How was I so easily deceived? He had fooled everyone—even Jared, who for all of his hatred of Elijah hadn’t known the depths of this boy’s madness.
She glared up at him. “Do you think I need my hands to kill you?” she threatened and as the angry warning escaped her lips, she saw a glint of metal in his hand. He was holding a small knife.
She began to look around the room—mapping the space she would need to fight him, the space she would need to cross in order to escape.
“Promise you will listen?” he pressed, nearing her. She nodded, seeming to acquiesce. Quickly, he pulled his hand out, revealing the knife—she had to make her move now. She leaped off the bed, landing heavily on the floor. She kicked at his knee and fell to her side. Viciously, she kicked him in the abdomen—aiming for his broken ribs.
“Sloan, stop it!” he yelled.
She lurched herself to her feet, but before she could get away he grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. She fell on her shoulder—hard. She had been in far greater pain before and she wouldn’t let one injury stop her.
She kicked at him furiously from the ground, screaming, “Get off me!” She tried to shimmy free, but he held her legs down, battling her as he crawled on top of her. He pinned her, the knife still in his hand. She wriggled underneath him, desperately trying to escape. She watched as he brought the knife closer, a quick slash of the blade . . .
. . . and suddenly her hands were free—he had cut her ties.
She froze, uncertain of what to do next. If he had wanted to kill her he could have. He tossed the knife across the room, but remained on top of her. “I told you I would never hurt you,” he reminded her.
Sloan glared up at him expecting to see his maniacal face, but instead, she found the sincerity in his eyes that had first brought her here. “You want me to trust you after you tied me up and came at me with a knife.”
He shook his head, seemingly exasperated. “I told you—I tied you up for my safety. You’re one dangerous girl when you’re angry. The knife was to cut you free—which I did. I would never hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me right now,” she countered. She glared at him as he stifled a chuckle, but he also stood up, freeing her. He offered her his hand but she rejected it, getting to her feet on her own. They stood there, staring at one another. Then she noticed blood beginning to pool through his shirt. She must have hit his knife into him when trying to break free. “Elijah . . .” She gestured. He looked down and cursed under his breath, otherwise ignoring the wound.
Sloan thought about the situation—she was stuck in the woods with him. She had two options—buy more time or kill him. And she hadn’t just ruined her life in an attempt to save his just to kill him now. “You have till tonight to convince me—otherwise, believe me when I say I will kill you.”
He nodded slowly. “Fine.”
She had watched him clean the small slash on his side. She had watched him build a fire. Now she watched him stare at her from across the fire pit. She was done waiting. “You said you could prove you were telling the truth—so do it.”
“It’s not the easiest thing to do . . . Tell me this—been forced to show off for any strangers recently?” he asked, leaning into the firelight.
She thought of Mr. Degrassi and the others, of the way she and Jared had been forced to fight for them.
“How do you know about that?”
He shrugged. “They’re investors. They help keep this place going and in return, they come and handpick their next bodyguards—their personal security who keep them alive and well on the mainland.”
She wanted to point out that he hadn’t actually answered her but he carried on speaking.
“Your conversations being listened in to—your every move being recorded. That really happens. How else would I know Jared called you a slut and then you two had sex?”
A wave of heat rushed over her. “How do you know those things?”
She felt violated hearing him describe a part of her private life aloud.
“Stone told me you and Jared were struggling and the Order was worried about it. He told me it was ti—”
Sloan cut him off. “Stone told you?”
“Yeah, he’s kind of our de facto leader . . . He wanted to be the one to tell you, to bring you into the fold, but it couldn’t be organized that way. So he suggested to Romani that we go on excursion and I tell you.”
Sloan leaned away from him. Stone—her general, her mentor, second in command at the Academy. She had trusted him with her life and now she was hearing that he was one of them. That he and the Order—and Elijah—knew about parts of her life with Jared that should have been private.
She shook her head. “He’s been manipulating me this whole time. Just like you.”
“No, it’s not like that—”
“Really? It sure seems that way.”
“Sloan, he wanted to bring you in a long time ago.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “Sure, I—as his closest pupil—was too hard for him to reach.”
“You surrounded yourself with people who wouldn’t hesitate to turn us all in!”
“Like Jared? Stone could have told him too but—”
He cut her off, raising his voice. “Jared is not like the rest of us, Sloan. His family isn’t out there suffering somewhere.”
Sloan stood. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“His family is involved—here, in this place, they had a role in making it and they have a role in maintaining it. Romani is his uncle.”
Sloan fell back onto her seat. “What?”
There was no way Jared knew that. No way he would have kept all of that—all of this—from her.
Elijah took a deep breath. “He doesn’t know, if that’s what you’re thinking . . . but that doesn’t change anything. He might have been treated the same as the rest of us, but he would have never been Dismissed, and he’s definitely had closer eyes on him this whole time. So no—we couldn’t tell him and we couldn’t tell you until we got you away from him.”
Sloan couldn’t believe this. She had been manipulated—she had been fooled. “Get me away from him?”
He ran a hand over his face, struggling with this conversation. “Needing you to get away from Jared so you could learn the truth has had nothing to do with the way I feel about you. I wanted you long before I even knew the truth.”
Sloan narrowed her gaze at him. “Sure,” she said sarcastically. “It just worked out so well for you that you had Stone and whoever else helping you get me away from Jared.”
“Dammit, Sloan! Can you just let me explain everything before you start with the accusations?”
She recoiled at his angry voice, but she crossed her arms over her chest and listened. And as he spoke, her anger turned to shock and she became more intrigued. He began to tell her the story of their lives, but not as she knew them to be. He explained the Academy was an enemy base, but not all its students had been kidnapped. Those—like Jared, allegedly—whose parents knew and supported them had their children willingly trained up. It simultaneously made no sense and perfect sense. Everything that had begun to bother her at the Academy—or perhaps always had bothered her—could be explained by Elijah’s version of the story.
“Romani is the leader of the rebel faction,” Elijah carried on. “He goes to great lengths to ensure we hear warped versions of the war. The War Front Collective is pretty much a complete fabrication . . .
“They train us to fight our own people, the ones trying to defend the mainland. Haven’t you ever wondered why no one returns to the Academy after deployment? Those who always knew the truth hunt down those who survived long enough to discover the truth. No one ever makes it back to reveal Romani’s lies . . .
“But there is a small group of us, those who know the real story, here at the Academy. Stone brought us all in—Donny, me, a handful from Aviation, a few captains . . . It’s all been opportunistic. He handpicked every student he believed could handle the truth—you included. So many of us are from Aviation because of his time in the wings, where he could lead our excursions growing up. You’re the first one who would have been difficult to enlist—and damn, you have been difficult—but he insisted . . .”
Sloan couldn’t quite put her finger on how she felt—mad, betrayed, humiliated, doubtful? She barely knew Elijah and yet it seemed he had a greater bond with her mentor than she did, that he knew intimate details of her relationship with Jared, that he knew things about Jared that Jared didn’t even know.
She shook her head. “So, in essence, you found out you could be with me, knew Stone wanted me in his little fold of defectors, so helped manipulate the end of my relationship with the love of my life, to then tell me all of this?” she summarized.
“Sloan, it’s—”
“It’s not like that? Sure . . . you have developed some sick infatuation with me and now—” But he cut her off this time.
“You know that’s not true. You know how I feel about you.”
She stood, looking down at him. “You don’t even know me!”
He rose from his seat, squaring off with her from across the fire. “Don’t I?”
“What?”
“Don’t I know you? I have held you each time you needed me most. I have carried you to bed. I have watched over you. I held you in my arms to try to keep you from breaking.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Elijah, you’re part of the reason I was breaking in the first place.”
He shook his head at her. “I’m so sorry I ripped you away from your perfect bubble of illusion—” he began, his voice once again rising, but she interjected.
“Don’t! Don’t you dare pretend to know anything about who I am. You have been champion for a day—I have been it for years. You don’t know anything about being viewed as the best. You don’t know anything about the constant pressure, the pushing, the objectification and humiliation and isolation of being this way . . .
“The responsibility that comes from being the Order’s prized possession—you do not know what my life has been and you helped rip me away from the only other person who understood.”
He glared down at her. “I saved you from a life of being some glorified bodyguard.”
“At least I would have been with Jared!”
He lashed his hands out at his side, enraged. “You talk of responsibility, Sloan, well here it is—this is real responsibility. You have a family who needs you, people who need you, and you’re saying you would have rather carried on blissfully ignorant as long as you had wonder boy at your side?”
She stepped away from him . . . He was right. If he was telling the truth—he was right. She did have a family, out there, somewhere, who needed her. She had people she had sworn to go out and protect. Elijah was offering her the opportunity to do what she had always believed she was going to, and she was too mad to acknowledge it. Losing Jared had hurt too much.
She turned from Elijah, stumbling into the dark, as forceful memories pushed into her mind. Tandy, the day of her Review, flashed before her. Her best friend, shaking, eyes wide, lip quivering. “Don’t let them take me, Sloan.” She had been forced to the Order by sentries, resisting tearfully.
“Don’t fight, Tandy. It’s just a conversation; nothing will happen to you.” She had let them take her best friend. She had failed her. She had failed Kenny. She had lost Jared. She had now angered the Order. She had—
Sloan choked, hacking icy water out of her mouth. The cold lake flooded her eyes, ears and throat. She struggled to her feet, gasping for air. She blinked water from her eyes and found Elijah standing there, knee deep in the lake. What just happened?
“You were screaming,” he explained, raising his hands defensively.
She coughed up more water. “What?”
“You were screaming . . . you kind of lost it. Like really lost it.”
She slumped into the lake, running her hands over her face. “Well, what did you expect?”
He stood there in silence.
After a while, she looked up at him. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” The night sky behind him, the milky moonlight playing over his strong face. He nodded solemnly.
“Yeah, I am . . . I’m sorry.”
She struggled to her feet; he helped her up and out of the lake. She wrung her hair out, shivering in the night air.
Sloan paced the cabin, watching Elijah sleep on the sofa. They had exchanged an awkward moment before deciding to go to sleep, whereby she promised she wouldn’t kill him. But she couldn’t sleep. She could only think. And pace. She wanted to speak to Jared—she wanted to tell him everything. But if everything she had been told was in fact true, she couldn’t risk it, could she? If he really was under the constant watch that Elijah seemed to believe he was, if he really was Romani’s nephew and his family had some role in the Academy—how could she tell him?
Would he even believe her if she did—did she even really believe it all? She finally stopped pacing and looked down at his dark silhouette. She studied him thoughtfully. She had fought to keep him alive and it had meant the end of her relationship with Jared. She didn’t want to resent him, but everything he had said made it difficult to not do just that.
She couldn’t understand how he had ever had any draw on her. Maybe it was natural to develop feelings for someone you fought so hard to keep alive—maybe it was because Nuptia really had paired them, so he had some unexplainable pull on her, or maybe it was because some part of her knew he was telling her the truth, and that made him different from everyone else in her life.
“Why are you watching me sleep?” His voice just about gave her a heart attack—how long had he been awake?
Well, you threatened to kill him—it would be amazing if he slept at all.
She glanced to the countertop to see the blinking signal jammer box—it was still on; she could supposedly still speak candidly. She didn’t answer him, she just asked a question. “If you’re so against the system then why do you believe they were right in pairing us?”
He rolled over, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “The machine, Nuptia, doesn’t make mistakes. People make mistakes.”
Sloan nodded in the darkness before slowly retreating to her bed. She fell asleep wondering how many mistakes had led her to this stage in her life.
“Stone helped transfer me out of Aviation when the Calling happened, knowing I wanted to be closer to you,” Elijah explained. He had told her about his life at the Academy, how he had streamlined into Aviation early on, learning how to fly before any other student there. Sloan had never really thought about it—the aviators generally trained with the rest of them—but they were sort of a separate group of their own.
They had been having a relatively pleasant morning—more conversations with fewer death threats. That had to be progress . . .
She dipped her toes into the cool lake. “Then why didn’t you ever just talk to me?”
He shot her a challenging look. “Would you have ever looked past Jared to me or anyone else?”
“Maybe if I thought you weren’t just lusting after me—I do have friends, you know.” Even as she said the words she thought about the level of truth in them—did she have any friends anymore?
“I don’t think I ever saw you speak to one person without Jared by your side,” he pointed out.
She wanted to protest but she couldn’t . . . Loving someone like Jared had a blinding effect on you. She wondered, if all of this was true, what sort of person Jared would have been if he had never been sent to the Academy. She wondered what sort of person she would be, if she had been left with her parents. Would she still be the sort of girl he would have loved?
“Maybe if he knew, he would see things differently . . .” she spoke, voicing her thoughts from the previous night.
“Knew what?” Elijah asked, looking up from where he sat on the bank.
“About all of this,” she said, waving her hands about.
He shot her a worried look. “You cannot tell him—that’s Stone’s call. I’m serious—if we told everyone we wanted to, some—many—would resist. Romani has the power here—imagine what he would do if there was an uprising?”
Sloan tried to imagine exactly that—a handful of students standing up and announcing all she knew now. She knew how she would have reacted—how she had reacted just yesterday to all of this. She would have defended the Academy. She would have put any traitor down.
As if reading her thoughts, he spoke. “They will all find out at some point . . . and it might not be too late for Jared. You could—I don’t know—work things out . . .” He let his voice trail off. She watched him deal with his own sad hypothetical scenario.
“I can’t pretend that’s not what I want, but I can tell you that, whether you’re telling the truth or not, we are all marching towards a war. What’s the point in worrying about anything other than staying alive?”
Sure, it was true, but she said it more for his benefit than anything else. If she could be back with Jared right now she would do it in a heartbeat.
He fidgeted in his seat, looking up to her. “Because there’s always more. Always something else—something better.” He took a deep breath. “But if this is all I ever get, just this time with you, well—that’s enough for me.”
Sloan stared at the ceiling that night, this time knowing Elijah was asleep, as he snored loudly from the sofa. They had spent the entire day talking. They spoke about his version of the war and the Others and the Order. They spoke about training and Stone. They talked about how they had never known one another before the Calling. She was talked out. And yet, she couldn’t sleep.
She had been raised on the belief that her parents had volunteered her for this, and that her superior skills and success would have made them proud. Who she was, the things she had done—the things she could do—it would probably horrify them. She imagined a woman whom she resembled, with blond locks and golden eyes, running a hospital with her husband. A hospital where many of the patients had probably been victims of someone just like Sloan . . . She wiped away the errant tear on her cheek. How could two people who saved lives ever be proud of a girl trained to end them?
Sloan stared at Elijah with apprehension, arms crossed over her chest. He had an easy smile painted across his face.
“You won’t hurt yourself, just trust me,” he laughed, resting his hand on the central yoke of the bike.
“It would be easier to trust you if you weren’t laughing.”
He laughed louder at that. Finally, he regained his composure. “Okay, do you know what a horse is?”
“Of course I know what a horse is.” Well, she knew the animal, despite having never seen one.
This time, he stifled a laugh, clearly seeing through her. “Okay, these bikes are like horses. Hands on either side of the yoke. When you lean forward, you go forward; when you squeeze your thighs—lean right, go right; lean left, go left—so on and so forth.”
She kicked at the ground, not liking feeling incapable. “How do you turn it on?”
He smiled, pointed to a scan pad on the side and brought his forearm to it. The pad registered his arm chip and the bike whirred to life—a low hum—and then it elevated several feet off the ground, hovering powerfully. She couldn’t help but smile—she definitely wanted to try.
Elijah turned the bike off; it lowered slowly to the ground. “Mount up,” he ordered and she leaped on. She ran her fingers, still sore, tentatively over the yoke. She touched the scanner pad; she squeezed the cool metal with her legs.
“Good—now turn it on.”
She lowered her chipped arm to the scanner and gasped as the bike came to life, raising her off the ground with ease. He let go of the yoke, mounted his own bike and turned it on. “Ready?”
She nodded keenly. He ran her through the instructions again, having her follow him in slow circles. She leaned, the bike leaned; she rested back and it slowed. She found the machine easy to control and in a fit of inspiration, she jerked her body suddenly, causing the bike to turn in a full circle. She couldn’t contain a laugh.
“You’re a natural.” Elijah smiled, drawing her attention back. He nodded in the direction of the woods. “Let’s go.” He leaned his strong body forward and took off. She watched him for a minute before flying after him.
They zipped over bushes, weaved through trees, flew over the glades. Sloan didn’t know how fast this bike could go—but she wanted to find out. She leaned sharply and took off—the wind beat through her hair, the sun streaked after her. She quickly overtook Elijah, soaring through the woods, navigating around the foliage, taking sharp turns around errant tree trunks.
She bolted upright—they had reached the lake. She eyed the water suspiciously.
Can I . . . ?
“What are you waiting for?” Elijah’s voice laughed out as he flew past her, confidently navigating the machine over water, creating rippled waves. Sloan didn’t hesitate, leaning in and taking off after him. She performed sharp turns, donut circles, and raced forward. She laughed uncontrollably, loving the sensation, loving the speed.
Loving the freedom.
She flew across the water, back into the far end of the woods, leaving Elijah far behind. Leaving everything far behind: the cabins, camp, the Academy, Jared—it all fell behind her in a storm of whipped-up leaves and dust.
Pulling into a clearing, she brought the bike to an abrupt halt. The glade was beautiful—a small brook veined through tall matted grass. The sun glinted against the verdant shades—gold and green, like Elijah’s eyes.
“Elijah.” The name fell easily from her lips.
“I’m here.” His voice startled her. He was hovering behind her in the tree line, happily watching her. She watched him over her shoulder.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
He smiled, regarding her with reassurance. “Not for a second.”
Sloan let Elijah grab her wrist, helping her up the escarpment. For their last day they had decided to go for a hike, trying to avoid conversation about the Academy and all he had said. They had swum in the lake and her damp clothes clung tightly to her. She followed him up the massive boulder and stripped her outerwear off to dry. Looking around, she realized she had been here before—this was the rock she had jumped from with Jared. That seems like a lifetime ago now. . .
She glanced over the edge, the lake far below them. She retreated, pushing the memory from her mind. Elijah lay on the stone, baking in the afternoon sun, and Sloan lay beside him. She glanced at his face, his bare chest—his bruises were slowly coming down, his cuts slowly closing. This time was healing.
“I will need to speak to Stone when we get back,” she announced, breaking their promise to avoid serious conversation.
Elijah nodded, eyes closed. “He’s expecting it.”
Sloan rolled onto her side and watched him. “What’s going to happen when we get back?” She thought of Romani, of the Order, of Stone and Jared . . .
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he answered confidently, turning to face her. Sloan could take care of herself—that wasn’t her concern—but it was nice to hear someone say those words anyway.
Suddenly, she leaped to her feet. She could face anything that came at her; she wasn’t afraid. If this past week had taught her anything, it was that she could take the pain.
“Want to jump?” She broached the ledge confidently. Elijah was on his feet in a second, reaching out for her.
“Don’t! Students have died jumping from here,” he warned her, his voice panicked. Sloan couldn’t help but smile at his candor—he had told her what Jared had long ago kept a secret. Again.
“I know,” she said, inching towards the edge. He was by her side in an instant.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I know . . . but it’s a little too late for that.”
He grimaced at her words.
“You don’t have to jump, but I’m doing it,” she declared, determined, turning towards the edge.
He grabbed her hand tightly, and for a moment she thought he was going to haul her back.
Instead, he simply said, “Where you go, I go.”
And then, without any hesitation, they leaped together.
They hadn’t spoken since the fall, but their silence was comfortable. She pushed against a tree trunk, winding over a bush. A light breeze chilled her bare arms. “I forgot my sweater,” she gasped, picturing the garment resting on the boulder.
Elijah halted. “I’ll get it.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll meet you back at camp.” Before he could object she turned on her heel, quickly taking off back towards the rocks.
She took a deep breath, making it back up quickly. She took tentative steps on the boulder, pushing herself up higher. She threw her body up and was on her feet, spotting the sweater exactly where she had left it. She scooped it up, shaking it out before pulling it on. She glanced to the ledge, thinking of their jump. He had held her hand all the way down. He had held her hand as he wrenched her up from the water, gasping for breath too.
An unnatural crack of squawking broke through the silence of early dusk. She turned on her heel, seeing a black swarm of birds fly out from the trees near the cabin—they had been scared by something.
“Elijah . . .”
Sloan flung herself over the rocks, ignoring any pain. She jumped from the last boulder and took off with an urgent speed. She weaved through trees, leaped over logs and ducked branches. She cleared the distance faster than she could have ever thought possible. As she pushed through the bushes she saw the cabins ahead—and she came to an abrupt halt. She fell to her knees, ducking behind a bush. Slowly, she pushed the leafy twigs aside.
Elijah was kneeling by the fire pit, his hands behind his head. Standing in front of him was a white-clad Academy sentry. In one hand the sentry had a gun, in the other, a signal jammer, its flashing green lights playing through his fingers. She crept forward, inching closer, coming up behind the nearest cabin. Eventually, she got near enough to hear what the guard was yelling, all the while waving his gun at Elijah.
“ . . . contraband! As soon as I tell Romani, you and your girlfriend are as good as dead!”
Sloan was chilled at his words, and yet she couldn’t imagine what a lone guard was doing out this far. Did Romani suspect something? Had he been sent here with purpose or was this a routine patrol?
“She doesn’t even know I have it,” Elijah yelled up to the guard. “She had no clue.” But the guard was having none of it, and struck Elijah with his weapon. Elijah swayed, spitting blood. The guard trained the gun on Elijah’s head, fidgeting at his hip for his radio.
If he turns it on, we’re done for.
Obviously thinking the same thing, Elijah made a move, leaping at the guard—but he was too slow. The guard jumped back, alarmed. He abandoned his search for his radio, lowering his aim at Elijah’s heart.
“Attacking a sentry is an offence that warrants immediate Dismissal.”
With a flick of his finger, the guard took the safety off of his weapon.
Without thinking, Sloan raced from the cabin wall. Maybe the guard saw her in his periphery—maybe not—but either way, it was too late. She grabbed the cold metal of his gun barrel and, twisting his hand inward, she wrenched it free, tossing it to the ground. The guard struck at her wildly, but she ducked, kicking the outside of his knee. He fell and Sloan swung herself around him, wrapping a forearm under his neck. Grabbing his jaw with her shaking hands and locking her spare arm behind his head, she wrenched his neck to the side.
“SLOAN!”
Elijah’s yell echoed through the woods, covering the sound of breaking bone. It muffled the thud of the guard’s lifeless body hitting the ground.
She reached for Elijah—he was bleeding. He recoiled from her outstretched hand, a look of horror on his face. She didn’t understand. He lunged forward to her feet—his hands rolling the guard over. Sloan stepped back. Elijah stared at the man’s motionless chest. He touched the sentry’s face and he cursed under his breath when the guard’s head rolled to the side.
“Stop it, Elijah,” she ordered. He ignored her.
He rested his hands on the man’s chest. “Dammit, Sloan . . .”
He pushed on the man’s chest—was he trying to revive him? Elijah began to pound harder against the guard, as though he were willing him to wake up.
Sloan was barely listening. Barely present. She knew what she had done—what she had been trained to. She felt her hands twitching uncontrollably at her side.
“I said stop it, Elijah.” At her low growl he looked up at her, horror in his green eyes.
He shook his head and leaned over the guard, resting his ear above the man’s heart. He checked for a pulse. He grabbed his wrist, a second location for proof of life. “Come on, come on,” he grumbled.
She needed him to stop. She needed him to stop checking what she had done. She took a step forward and pushed Elijah away. He fought her but she used all her might. “He’s gone—now stop it!”
He fell away from her. “What is wrong with you?”
She barely heard him. She stepped away from the scene . . . she had done this for him. She had saved him . . . she had killed a man. She turned back, looking down at the sentry’s motionless chest. His nametag read YOUNG. She felt nauseous. That man had been alive, awake, moving, speaking, hurting Elijah . . . Now, he was motionless—inanimate. She had touched him and ended his thoughts, his voice, his ability to exist.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, turning away from the body. She had taken a human and made a corpse. Without hesitation, she bolted, taking off into the woods to escape her mess—to escape the look Elijah was giving her.
She fell onto the ground and stared at her own hands. She could feel a tear falling from her. She could hear her heart beating, her breaths racing. She wanted to be sick. She could see Elijah’s horrified face; she could hear the cracking of Young’s neck. It turned out, the one thing she had fought so hard to avoid doing, the one thing that filled her with this sick feeling, was the one thing she had been trained all her life to do.