Zira dropped her pack and whipped out the long knife strapped across her chest. A huge, dark figure came rushing at her from the patch of trees to her right.
Jared’s mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes cold and dark, brows furrowed in fierce concentration. It took Zira a few moments to register the expression, and by that time he was nearly on top of her. She jumped aside at the last second, still close enough to feel the knife slice through the air where her throat had been.
Jared came at her again, but this time she reacted sooner. “What are you doing?” she shouted. In answer, he swung at her again. Zira ducked.
He was trying to kill her.
Of course he was. She had deserted the Project. It only made sense that Ryku would have sent his best man to eliminate her. Zira’s knife hung limp at her side. Her legs danced away from each attack with movements that had become automatic after years of training, but she couldn’t bring herself to raise a weapon against him.
He slashed through her coat and the edge of his blade bit into her side, opening a long, thin gash. The pain dragged her back to her senses. She forced herself into the fight. This was not a game or some kind of test. Ryku had sent Jared to kill her, and from the look on his face, that was exactly what he intended to do.
Jared lashed out with the knife again. Zira barely managed to deflect the blow without losing her balance. He was stronger than she was—so much so that she wondered how she could ever expect to beat him. But she was quicker. When the next strike came, she used that speed to twist around behind him, far out of his reach.
For a moment, she had a chance to strike at his unguarded back. She hesitated, and the moment passed. Jared’s foot caught her in the chest. She staggered, gasping for air.
This could only end in death for one of them. Most likely hers. Jared could have killed her more than once already. He’d had several chances to overpower her with sheer strength and skill. He could have done it with a single bullet from a distance and avoided a confrontation altogether, but he hadn’t. Why was he toying with her?
His knife came whistling at her again. Zira had no time to dodge the attack. She raised her own weapon defensively and for an instant, the blades locked. Zira stared up at the man who was suddenly a stranger to her, searching his eyes for some kind of answer. Jared’s face was emotionless. He shoved her back and pulled a second, shorter knife from his belt. Wielding one in each hand, he charged her.
It was all Zira could do to avoid being cut into pieces. She was wearing down quickly, but Jared seemed tireless. Her resolve weakened with each labored breath she took. Even if she managed to survive this, Ryku would send others to finish the job. A small voice whispered that fighting was pointless. It grew louder with each passing second, but Zira refused to listen.
She stumbled, and as she scrambled to recover, Jared’s knife slashed across her shoulder. She cried out in pain and tried to run, but Jared swept her legs out from under her with a well-placed kick. Zira caught herself on both hands. She reached for her dropped knife, but Jared flicked it away with his toe.
She rolled over to face him. If he was going to kill her, he would look her in the eyes when he did it.
He stood over her, knife poised for the kill. Zira’s eyelids shut involuntarily. She tried to open them again but couldn’t. She was a coward. She’d always promised herself that when death came, she would look it in the face, defiant and fearless. Now she couldn’t bring herself to do so.
She counted the last seconds of her life.
One. Two. Three.
Look at him!
Four. Five.
Tears ran down her cheeks, burning as they melted into a small cut on her face. Why didn’t he kill her already? She finally forced herself to look up at him.
Jared’s hands shook. His eyes were full of a suffering Zira did not understand. He dropped his weapons and fell to his knees in the snow before her. “I can’t.” His voice was ragged. “I just can’t.”
Nothing about this made any sense, and she didn’t know whether to be angry or heartbroken or just confused. He was having second thoughts now, after he had worked so hard to kill her?
Except that he hadn’t—not really. If he’d really wanted to kill her, there were easier, cleaner ways to do it. For whatever reason, he’d given her the chance to fight back. Perhaps a part of him had even hoped she’d beat him.
He had his face in his hands now, and his body heaved. “I’m so sorry, Zira. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a choice, but—I shouldn’t have done this. I’m sorry.”
Zira didn’t know what to say. This was all wrong. Her heart felt like it was shredding itself into a thousand tiny pieces.
“I love you,” Jared said. “I’m sorry.”
She no longer believed him. She just wanted to go. Her legs shook violently as she stood up and looked at him.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze and instead stared at the red patch of snow where blood had trickled down her arm and dripped from her fingers. “Wait,” he said. “There’s a tracker in your prosthesis. If you give it to me, I’ll bury it somewhere and tell Ryku you’re dead. They won’t look for you.”
Zira picked up her blade from the red-stained snow. She leaned against a tree and used the knife to loosen the screws that bolted the prosthesis to the post in her leg. Once it was removed, she peered into the hole where the post fit. Something metallic gleamed inside. She pried it loose and tossed it onto the ground in front of Jared, then reattached the leg.
“Find somewhere safe,” he said.
He looked so small kneeling there below her, hunched over like he was trying to collapse in on himself. For some inexplicable reason, Zira pitied him. Before he could change his mind, she retrieved her pack and ran blindly into the darkness ahead.
She was still crying when her strength ran out and she fell into the snow. She retched. Vomit spewed from her mouth, steaming on the cold ground. Shivering, she tore strips from a shirt in her backpack to bind her wounds.
What had happened between her and Jared that would make him do this? She had never imagined his dedication to the Project would be tested in such a cruel manner. She knew how seriously he took his job, but shouldn’t his feelings for her have won out over his duty? They had in the end, but Zira couldn’t forget the hardness in his eyes and the sting of his blade. Ryku’s orders had been Jared’s first choice. Not her.
After she had cried as many tears as her eyes would allow, Zira picked herself up and wiped her face with her sleeve. She straightened and continued walking as dawn broke over the horizon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jared had nothing to bring back to the compound as proof of Zira’s death except his word and a heavy heart. His grief was real enough to convince the chairman, even if Ryku didn’t know the true reason behind it.
“You did well,” Ryku said. “I know this was difficult, but you did the right thing. The Project appreciates your service, and I want you to know how much I personally value your loyalty.”
Under other circumstances, Jared would have taken pride in Ryku’s words. Now, he hated them. They only reminded him of the betrayal he’d committed against the one person he loved most in this world, and simple praises were poor compensation for that.
The part that stung the most was knowing he couldn’t blame Ryku for everything that had happened. Jared was the one who had chosen to carry out the assignment. He’d told Zira he didn’t have a choice, but that wasn’t exactly true. He could have refused. He’d be dead, but at least he might have died with a little more honor and self-respect than he had now. He could have gone with her. He’d be a traitor to the Project, and perhaps that would have been a more difficult kind of betrayal, but he wouldn’t have had to hurt Zira.
He couldn’t erase the image of her lying broken and bleeding as he stood over her, tears running down her face. She had shut her eyes like she was too disgusted to even look at him. He would never forgive himself for that. The guilt was so sickening tha
t he could hardly stand to be in his own skin anymore.
He took some small comfort in knowing that Zira was alive, at least. That wouldn’t have happened if Ryku had sent someone else to kill her, or if Jared’s conscience hadn’t gotten the best of him in the end. All he could hope for now was that she would find somewhere safe to grow old and live the rest of her life in peace. She deserved that, after everything she’d been through these past months.
As Jared walked away from Chairman Ryku’s office, someone called his name. He turned towards the sound and Aubreigh hurried to catch up with him. She was the last person he wanted to see right now, but he couldn’t avoid her forever.
“Where have you been?” she asked. “Have you heard from Zira? She asked for a transfer—somewhere outside the compound. I think she’s gone already, but you really need to talk to her. She was pretty upset about the way you guys left things.”
It would be so easy to let her keep believing that Zira had simply transferred out of the compound, but Aubreigh would start missing her friend and try to contact her eventually. That could be dangerous for someone who was trying to pretend to be dead. Jared didn’t think Zira was stupid enough to stay in touch with people from her old life, but he also didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t do for Aubreigh. The best way to keep her safe was for her to stay dead, and that meant Aubreigh had to believe it, too.
Jared looked her straight in the eye and lied as convincingly as he could. “Zira’s gone,” he said. “None of us can talk to her anymore.”
Aubreigh’s face fell. “What do you mean?”
“She’s dead,” said Jared. He didn’t have to fake the gruff rasp in his voice.
Aubreigh shook her head. “There could be a mistake, like last time. Maybe she’s still alive somewhere. They’re going to look for her, right?”
“No,” Jared said. “This time it’s true. She’s dead. They have proof.”
Tears welled up in Aubreigh’s eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hands. She kept shaking her head. Jared stepped closer and hugged her as she sobbed into his shirt. He patted her back and told her he was sorry, told her that everything would be all right. He added the lies to a growing list of things he would carry in shame for the rest of his life. But he had to lie in order to make sure Zira stayed safe. As long as she was safe, nothing else mattered.
* * *
It took Zira another week to hitchhike her way north to Missoula and find the mostly-abandoned neighborhood where Tripp had taken up residence. She watched the house with the white door and blue curtains for a few hours before approaching and saw no sign of Tripp, but she supposed that was the point. She hadn’t seen any sign of him when she was sent to kill the radicals in Grayridge, either. He was careful, and if she wanted to survive out here, she needed to be careful, too.
She smoothed the wrinkles in her clothes, then crossed the street and walked up to the door. She took a deep breath and gave it a quick, sharp rap. No answer. She knocked again. Nothing. She wondered if this was even the right house and checked the now-crinkled paper Seth had given her at the compound. No, this had to be it.
Zira pounded on the door again. “Open up! I know you’re in there.”
Moments later, it opened. Tripp leaned against the door frame, as lanky and disheveled as she remembered him. He grinned crookedly at her. “You made it, kid. Come inside. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
EXCERPT
Please enjoy the following excerpt from RENEGADES OF PEACE, the next installment in the SECRETS OF PEACE series.
Four polished, ivory caskets sat in a row at the top of the grassy slope in the PEACE Project compound’s cemetery. Crisp, white flags bearing the seal of the Project had been draped over each one, topped with bouquets of flowers whose colors matched the deceased’s unit. Blue for Chairman Collin, green for Chairman Ava, yellow for Chairman Leon, and red for Chairman Brynn. The flowers and the grass offered the only splashes of color in sight. The hundreds of onlookers gathered to pay their final respects had all dressed in black for the somber occasion, and the sky was the same drab gray as the compound wall behind them.
Jared stood at the back of the crowd of mourners, trying to remain inconspicuous. He’d come to the service because it was expected of him, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone. His mind was a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions, but guilt was at the forefront of them all. Guilt about agreeing to keep Ryku’s secret, guilt about the surprisingly vociferous part of him that wanted to betray the chairman’s trust, guilt about the fact that he had lived when everyone else who’d been in that room had died, and about his small part in all of it. He tried to push it down, but it kept forcing its way back to the surface.
A few minutes ago, Ryku had concluded a speech that probably would have seemed appropriately poignant had Jared not known the truth. His words had coaxed more than a few tears from the audience. Now, many of them were starting to drift away. Jared glanced at his CyberLink for the time. He’d been here long enough—fulfilled whatever social obligation he had to his colleagues and to Ryku. He needed to get out of here, back to the comforting solitude of his apartment where the guilt had a slightly less oppressive hold on him.
He skirted around the edges of the crowd, then made his way through the tombstones. He still couldn’t believe this was happening. It all felt so surreal, and it had happened so fast—not even forty-eight hours ago. Jared remembered because he’d noted the time when the chairmen’s final meeting together had lasted longer than usual, and again when he and Ryku had received news of the tragedy. He was supposed to have been with them when it happened.
He was probably the last person to have seen them alive.
* * *
TWO DAYS EARLIER
The meeting had lasted almost two hours already, and Jared was beginning to grow restless. He sat in Ryku’s usual seat at the end of a rectangular table in the office the chairmen used for their weekly debriefings. He’d been attending regularly with Ryku for a few months now, but today the chairman had sent him alone, complaining of a headache and too many mission files to go through. “I don’t have the patience to deal with them today,” he’d said. “I trust you can handle things on your own in there.” Jared had been more than willing to accept the responsibility.
Chairman Leon finished speaking and withdrew the charts projected over the table. “Thank you for the update,” said Chairman Brynn with a polite, if somewhat forced, smile. “We’re always interested to learn what exciting new breakthroughs your researchers are working on.”
Leon nodded. “Yes, I’m very proud of all they’ve accomplished. And how have your people been doing with the food distribution issues?”
“It’s getting better,” she replied. “Thanks to your hard work over the past two years, we’re finally starting to see an increase in agricultural production. This week, we also implemented the new prison rationing system with the assistance of Chairman Ava and unit E-1. It’s just a small change, but we hope it will ensure that the law-abiding, working members of society are given the priority they deserve.”
“How did the prisoners react to the news?” Chairman Collin asked.
“They were upset, naturally,” said Ava. “It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s the best we can do for the time being.”
That was Jared’s cue to speak. “If the prisons weren’t so overcrowded…” he began, then paused as Ava narrowed her eyes and frowned at him. He started over. “Ryku thinks they drain our resources, and the prisoners contribute nothing to society.”
“He’s right,” said Ava, “but we can’t risk sending all of them to labor camps.”
Jared nodded. Ryku and Ava had this same argument at least every other week, so he knew the script by heart. Prisons were reserved for dangerous criminals who posed a threat to others, while more benign individuals who hadn’t committed a violent crime were sent to labor camps to work off their debt to society. Ryku believed the prison system was an enormous waste of
already limited resources. Ava insisted it was necessary, and that those who were locked up deserved the highest quality of life the Project could give them.
“We’re not asking you to send them to labor camps,” Jared said.
“No,” she replied. “I know exactly what you’re asking. We’re not going to kill them. They’re still human beings, and Ryku doesn’t get to play judge, jury, and executioner all on his own. That’s why we have separate units. We’ve been over this before.”
Jared gave a small shrug, backing out of the argument. He’d said what he was supposed to say, and it would take a lot more than just his insistence to get Ava to agree with Ryku’s proposal. It wasn’t his battle to fight, anyway.
His CyberLink lit up as Chairman Collin directed them all to their next order of business. Jared tapped the screen and scanned the brief message. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up from the table. “Chairman Ryku is asking for me back in his office. I’ll be sure to pass along everything we discussed today.”
The others barely glanced up at him as he left the room. He made his way across the compound to Ryku’s office, wondering what was so important that the chairman had to pull him out of the meeting. When he arrived, he found Ryku sitting behind his desk with an open file in front of him and a stack of at least a dozen more off to one side. “How did it go?” he asked as Jared walked in.
“More of the same,” said Jared.
Ryku’s mouth stretched in a small, thin frown, but he didn’t look up from his work. “I apologize for pulling you away like that, but there’s more to do here than I anticipated. Would you mind helping me?”
“Of course, sir,” said Jared. He took the stack of files Ryku handed him, sat on a couch, and opened the first one. Reviewing mission reports was far from the most thrilling work he’d ever done, but he didn’t mind. He liked seeing how all the pieces fit together. When he carried out his own assignments, he was just one person completing a minor task, eliminating some small threat while hundreds of others remained unchallenged. It was easy to forget the larger machine at work, all the moving parts that operated together to ensure the country stayed safe. Looking over mission reports allowed him to see how he and other operatives were making a difference. It gave him a sense of pride and fulfillment, and he needed all of that he could get these days.
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