Honestly, I didn’t want to do this either. Not now, not ever. I never thought this plan was a good idea. This was what I had tried to warn Ryker about. I was not a leader and after today, it seemed obvious I was going to fail him.
Archer said that she would help us with the Wraiths but that was only one Tribe. Though they tried to hide it, I saw the others’ faces when we got back. The way Arden looked at me tore at my heart. I had let them down. We were going to fail. Everyone knew it.
Xavier had been waiting for us when we returned. I could see him counting our heads, taking in our battered appearance. He said nothing. He didn’t have to. I had expected him to look smug, pleased even. But there was a dark twist to his features. Disappointment maybe? Wordlessly he led us inside, then disappeared again.
As soon as we got in the building, I split from the group like a coward. Not wanting to see Arstid’s face pinch with anger, the way Doc’s would fall. Watching the last seconds of Elin’s life had already been too much. With it came all the ghosts from my past. My mother. Father. Maddox. Elin would join their ranks now. Destined to haunt my dreams with so many others.
When Triven found me hours later, hiding in the room filled with crates we had used as our meeting quarters, my attitude had only further soured. A pile of splinters scattered the ground under the crate I perched on. The tip of my knife dug relentlessly into the lid again, prying more slivers free.
“They’re never going to trust me again.” I didn’t look up. The tips of his black boots stopped between mine. His hands landed gently on my shoulders. The knife stopped its digging, but I kept my head down. Slowly, Triven’s hands slid up to my neck, his thumbs tracing my collarbones until they cupped my cheeks. A flush of heat followed every touch. Gently Triven pulled my face up until my eyes finally met his. They were warm, smiling in the gentle way only Triven could. A finger gently traced one of my bruises, courtesy of Archer. He bent leaning into me and stopping, as he always did, just before touching my lips.
I closed the gap, sighing into the kiss as it warmed me. Triven couldn’t take the pain of today away, but his shared pain always eased mine. We weren’t in this alone. When he pulled away, he took my breath with him. The kiss was brief, but spoke volumes of unspoken words. It surprised me that he was smiling as he straightened.
“Have a little more faith in our people.” He kissed my forehead tenderly, pulling away when a gagging sound came from the door.
“Get a room.” Archer snapped as she strode through the passage. “If you’re done getting over yourself, we have plans to make.”
I stared astounded as not only Archer marched into the room, but so did the rest of our recon team followed by Baxter, a weasel-faced man I recognized but didn’t know his name, Cortez from the warehouse fire, and the very last one was Veyron.
My heart lurched as she entered the room. Even after seeing Arden first, after bracing myself for the damage done, tears welled at the sight of her. Like Arden, Doc’s second-hand serum had healed the burns, making them look years old, not months, but the damage was still extensive. Her round face had not been disfigured as badly as Arden’s, the scars not reaching her lips or eyes, but half of her beautiful hair had been burned away, taking part of her left ear with it. The scars shaved the left side of her scalp into a permanent partial Mohawk, tracing down her neck onto the little of her shoulder I could see. But instead of wearing her hair down to cover the damage, she kept it tied into a tight ponytail, forcing people to see what the fire had done. If the traitor was still with us, he or she would have to look at their handiwork every day.
I tried to find a smile, but Veyron’s glare iced over as it swept past me. Not a single trace of friendship graced her expression. The message was clear. I was unforgiven and she did not want to be here. From the looks of it, Baxter wasn’t too enthralled with the idea either. He took a seat on a crate nearest the door. The pressure of Cortez’s hand on his arm appeared to be the only thing anchoring him.
Her own cheeks now showing signs of our quarrel, Archer hopped onto a box across from me. It creaked. Triven shifted to open the space, his thigh almost touching mine as he leaned against my crate.
“We had a little meeting without you.” Archer nodded to the others. She slouched, whether actually at ease or faking it I couldn’t be sure. “We all agreed that you suck at leading.”
Triven cleared his throat and she smiled unapologetically.
“But, you were right.” Archer stared down at her toes, all humor gone. “Elin’s death was all of our faults.”
Baxter stirred, his usual playful eyes solemn. He shared a glance with Veyron. “If we had helped you, he may not have died today.”
“You don’t know that.” I countered.
“Shut up Phoenix, we’re trying to make a point here.” Archer reproached.
I forced my mouth shut, smothering a harsh retort. Triven covered the lower half of his face, undoubtedly hiding a smirk.
“None of us want to be a part of this.” Otto looked to his friends seeking their approval of his words. “And we get it now that you don’t wanna be either.”
I bit my lip, hard. No, I didn’t.
“None of us have the ability to unite the Tribes. We’re all traitors.” Arden’s hand swept over his Taciturn tattoos as he spoke. “But you and Triven, you’re neutral. It’s unlikely, but you have a better chance than any of us.”
“And you’re obviously willing to die trying.” Grenald nodded at me as if that fact made the situation better.
Cortez spoke for the first time. I had assumed before that the rasp in her tone was from the smoke, but it appeared it was just her voice. Deep and gravelly. “If The Wall is really coming down like you said, we want to fight for a change. We don’t want to die here because we were too scared.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m not scared of the Tribes. I’m pissed at them.” Archer cut in, earning a group eye roll.
“What we’re trying to say is that we’ll get you as close to every Tribe as we can.” Otto dipped his chin encouragingly.
“The rest is up to you two.” Cortez added. Triven’s leg brushed mine. “We won’t be of any help when it actually comes to dealing with the Tribes, but we can at least try to stack the odds in your favor.”
“Thank you,” Triven said gravely.
“It’s more likely that you’re going to get yourselves killed.” Veyron’s voice was harsher than I remembered. Cutting even. “But this way, at least we can’t blame ourselves for your deaths.”
A chill followed her words.
“Okay,” Archer settled herself in. “Let’s figure out how to keep your stupid asses alive.”
THE FIRST UNANIMOUS decision was that we couldn’t stay here. Not while we were seeking out the other Tribes. We were lucky not to have been followed as we fled the Adroits. I was furious with myself for not thinking of it earlier. My months with the Subversive and then the Sanctuary had weakened my sharp mind. I had foolishly let myself become comfortable, complacent and forgot my number one rule about seeking refuge in Tartarus. Never stay in the same place.
If a Tribe had caught wind of us, we would have led them straight back here. Xavier’s refuge was a fortress, but it was no underground bunker. There were too many exposed walls, too much to watch. If a Tribe wanted in, they would find a way. The assault on the Subversive proved that. Exposing ourselves to the Tribes was one thing. We would not expose our friends and families unnecessarily.
There were enough of my old safehouses scattered around the city to hide. Providing they hadn’t been compromised in my absence. I was profoundly relieved I had withheld many of them from Arstid in my initial debriefings. With a traitor in the Subversive’s ranks, any safe house I had told them about was compromised.
Taking on the Adroits quickly became our last priority. Both Veyron and Baxter rebuked us for the ill-advised attempt, though they looked nearly as shamed as the rest of us.
The Adroits would be on edge now. With the Ravager
s hunting them and our explosive entrance, our ex-Adroits were certain the naked-headed Tribe would retreat into their factory, rendering them practically untouchable. Getting to them would now be the most difficult.
We schemed over our hand-drawn maps, the ex-Tribe members analyzing their territories while I plotted our safe houses. Together we laid routes and solidified plans. It was easy to tell that even talking about the Tribes bothered all of them. Arden’s hands trembled as he and Otto went over the Taciturns’ strengths and weaknesses. Both Veyron and Baxter grew paler by the moment when we spoke of the Adroits, and the weasel-faced man, Nos, and Cortez refused to look at each other during the Scavenger planning. Even the formidable Grenald tensed when speaking of the Wraiths, his over-sized muscles flexing anxiously. It was solely under Otto’s gentle touch that he relaxed. Only Archer showed no sign of emotion. To an outsider it might appear as a sign of strength, but I could read her now. The lack of emotion meant she was ablaze beneath the calm façade. The harder her jaw set, the more I knew she was barely holding it together. It was unbelievable how much they had all held back. How much of their pasts they had tried to bury since joining the Subversive? But I knew better than anyone, ignoring the past doesn’t make it go away. It’s always there haunting your every step, feeding your every decision, whether you know it or not. With each of them, however, once the carefully sealed lids had been popped, the information flowed out in crushing waves.
With the ex-Tribesmen finally opening up about their own, it became painfully clear we could not approach them all the same way. Each Tribe would have to be dealt with very differently. Each one needed different motivations and threats.
The Adroits respected intelligence and cunning. Threatening them with a bomb and then offering one as a gift could help seal their alliances. The Wraiths who behaved more like a pack, would need to be threatened as a whole. The Scavengers would be the complete opposite. They would have to be sought out independently to spread the word to as many of them as possible. Though they were a Tribe of one name, they acted as individuals and would choose to join us as such. The wild cards could be the Taciturns. They respected stealth and violence, and their most current leader wasn’t known for his mental stability. The man was a time bomb, impossible to read and equally lethal. Stories of his cruel insanity preceded him. I could feel Maddox’s hand tightening around my throat as I recalled the story about his brother and how the leader now wore a vest made of his brother’s hide. The Taciturns would be impossible to control and with spies placed in other Tribes, it would be even harder to take them by surprise. Baxter had suggested killing the current leader in hopes of a more amicable one taking over. I could see reason in that plan. We all could. If it came down to murdering one insane tyrant to kill another, I would pull the trigger myself.
When we finally left our room, physically and emotionally exhausted, plans were ready to be set in motion and not one of us looked pleased. The Wraiths would be first and we would move out tonight.
17. ADAPT
M OUSE WAS WAITING for us in our closet-sized room. She sat on my makeshift bed of paper and singed blankets. My father’s watch twisted in her fingers.
You’re leaving again. She scowled at me.
I moved to sit next to her, Triven flanked her other side.
“To keep you safe. To keep everyone here safe.”
I’m coming.
Triven leaned in closer, pressing her between the two of us. “Not this time Mouse.”
“We need you here.” I added, knowing—like me—the little girl needed purpose. “You have more skills than the other kids. I need you to look out for them. Help them learn to defend themselves.”
I don’t want to defend. I want to fight! She threw her fists hard as they crossed in an X in front of her, accentuating the word fight.
Apparently, Xavier had kept his word. I knew training had started today and obviously Mouse was displeased with the type of training she was receiving. We had talked about this before while in the Sanctuary. Though not much younger than I was when abandoned in this city, Mouse seemed too little to be trained the way I had been. To have to fight the way I had. I didn’t want my life for her. I had let her watch us train the Rebels, but a line had to be drawn there. I didn’t want her engaging.
I tried to hug her to me. “Mouse, I’m tired of arguing about this.”
For the first time, she pushed me away. So stop arguing.
My exasperated sigh was echoed on Mouse’s other side. Triven composed himself better than I did. “Mouse, there won’t be a need for you to fight.”
You’re fighting.
“We’re older than you.”
You were my age when you started.
A sour taste puckered my lips. I knew she would throw that stone. “I didn’t have a choice.”
I do! My choice. I love you both, but you’re wrong. I should learn.
“Mouse…” Conviction was slipping from Triven’s voice.
“No.” I said more firmly this time.
Then I go with you.
“Definitely not.”
“No.”
We spoke over each other in agreement.
Tears were blooming in her deep eyes. Though her lip quivered, Mouse didn’t let a single one fall. She jumped up, turning to face us. She had grown so much, her brown head now significantly taller than ours as we sat below her.
I have to learn.
“Why?” I pressed her. A part of me feared it was because she wanted to be like me.
Her next sign sent a chill down my spine.
Brother.
Gage.
A snarl ripped up my chest. Yes, Gage was a reason she would want to learn how to fight. How to defend herself and possibly kill others. Kill him. Her brother was a psychotic sadist. Both of us had fallen prey to his tactics, both had barely lived to tell about it.
Fear, anger and determination flitted across Mouse’s face. How could I tell her no when I was seeking revenge on my own family? When she had seen first-hand the skills I was refusing to teach her. She deserved to feel in control, to not be afraid of her brother. If training granted her that peace of mind, then who was I to tell her no.
Next to me, Triven’s face held resolute. Though my stories of Gage painted a horrific picture, he had not met the boy. Had not personally seen the cruelty that burned in the young man’s eyes.
I reached to Mouse’s hand, pulling her toward me. She let me. Her knees folded delicately beneath her, putting us on the same level.
“He will never touch you again. He will never come close to you again.”
Her jaw strained, pink lips smashing together as she braced herself for my rejection.
“But I understand.”
Mouse’s wide eyes popped with disbelief.
“You’ve got a right to protect yourself, to know that you can protect yourself.”
Really? Mouse’s hands trembled with anticipation.
“Really.” I smiled at her gently. I could feel Triven’s disagreement, but he didn’t contradict me. Not in front of her.
The little girl threw herself at me hugging hard. I could sense her relief in the hug, that she needed this.
Thank you. She sat back on her heels. Her round face carried the weight of someone much older. It hurt to see it there.
She glanced at our bags, still half-packed in the corner. How long?
Triven tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Ten days.”
We had planned two days for each Tribe. One day of recon and one day to infiltrate. If everything went well, the last day would end with Triven and I in a room with four of Tartarus’s Tribe leaders. The thought alone gave me palpitations. Then one final day of peace before The Wall came down. One day before everything changed forever.
The words suicide mission kept whispering in my ears. I smiled through the dark thoughts clouding my mind. Mouse needed to see hope on my face, so I gave it to her. It wasn’t a lie if I didn’t say anything, right?
&nbs
p; Mouse was not so easily convinced.
Be careful. She pressed a small palm to both of our cheeks. I placed mine over hers, holding it in place. “I don’t want you to train like I did. Do you understand me? You are not a Sanctuary cadet. You will never train like that.”
Mouse nodded, her throat bobbing. Like me, she knew too well what it meant to train like a Sanctuary cadet. We all did.
You can do this.
“We’re going to try.”
ELIN’S BLOOD STILL flecked my jacket. I should have washed it off, but it was a morbid reminder of my mistakes. Our mistakes. Mistakes I didn’t want to make again. Ten of us left The Master’s seeking out the Tribes. I was going to come home with ten. With or without the Tribes behind us, I would at least do my best to bring them home. I owed them that much.
Archer ghosted to my side. Her hand kept rubbing what was left of her arm. A nervous tic that had started since she had agreed to help us.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” She stared at the marble building across from us. Once upon a time it would have been beautiful, gleaming in the sunlight, a monument of the city. Now, it was a dilapidated skeleton like all the other buildings in Tartarus.
I had seen this building a hundred times over the years, knew this was the Wraiths’ territory, but would have never guessed this structure was their base. I had never seen anyone enter or exit. Archer told us there were tunnels underneath, allowing the Wraiths to move unseen. And unseen they were. They were truly ghosts.
I couldn’t answer Archer’s question. Besides, she already knew the answer. I didn’t want to do this. Neither of us wanted to be here. None of us did.
We had spent the entire last day canvassing the area, watching for movement. There was none to be found. But both Archer and Grenald were positive the Wraiths were there. Maybe they sensed them in a way the rest of us could not. Tethers from their pasts.
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