The Fracturing
By Tricia Wentworth
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
Published by Tricia Wentworth
Cover design by Vila Design
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Copyright 2018 by Tricia Wentworth
This one is for my husband.
It takes a special sort of awesome to be married to a writer.
You’re the real MVP.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgments
Author’s Bio
Prologue
Henry
I thought getting dumped was going to be the worst part of my day. Sadly, it wasn’t. I rub a hand down the side of my face toward my chin, not prepared for the storm of crap that is surely going to follow this.
“Ready, sweetie?”
Just the sound of her voice makes me want to punch something. “Marisol,” I snap.
“What? Just practicing,” she smiles. It’s a pretty smile, I’ll give her that, but everything on her interior is the opposite of pretty. She looks at me condescendingly, crossing her arms. “We are doing this, so you might as well get used to it.”
My fists clench at my side. “Like you gave me a choice. I never agreed to pretend to like you when it’s just us though.” As she rolls her eyes, I offer annoyed, “But yes, we are doing this.”
She makes a pouty face. “Someone is still feeling all grumpy from getting dumped. Stop it. It doesn’t become you, Henry.”
“Manipulation never looks good on me, Marisol,” I say pointedly.
Professor Dougall then saves me from verbally strangling the girl. “Ms. Hadenfelt, we are ready.”
It’s show time.
Marisol finally leaves me, thank God. There are so many emotions rolling through me, I don’t even know how to stop them, or which one to pinpoint. I’m going to have to do this. Then I’m going to have to face them… and it’s going to suck.
They’ll want to fix it. Lyncoln will think this is just like training, him having to save my butt and clean up my mess. And Reagan… Reagan will go between feeling like this is her fault and feeling like she needs to save me. They are nothing but predictable in their loyalty, I’ll give them that.
But I have to do this. And I have to go this alone. I don’t need saved this time.
This time I’m the one doing the saving.
Chapter 1
Reagan
Well. I already killed one person. What’s one more in the grand scheme of things, really?
The minute they enter the small refreshment room to join the rest of us, I am flying at Marisol about to beat her to a pulp. Who does she think she is? I have never met a more hateful person in my life.
Venom pulses through her veins. She is a snake. And not the little kind that kind-of-sort-of scares you but is more afraid of you than you are of it. She is the big ugly type, the type that knows it can kill an animal ten times the size of it by simply squeezing it to death and takes great joy in doing so. She is a big, ugly snake, disguised with beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes and I am going to kick her slimy, slithering, fake-eyelashed butt! My breaking point was about five minutes ago. Maybe five weeks ago, to be honest.
Attie catches me first, grabbing my wrist before the strong arms of Lyncoln firmly wrap around my waist holding me back. A quick look tells me he isn’t happy either.
“Is there an issue here?” Marisol asks with fake sweetness.
“Yeah. What did you do to him to get him to do this?” I spit the words toward her then glance at Henry for the first time. I don’t like what I find there. I can tell he is hurting, but I can also see that he feels guilty.
He should. What on Earth made him do this? Not 24 hours ago, we were kind of dating. I had a deadline and chose Lyncoln. And now he’s with her? HER?!
He hates her as much as I do. I know that. I know that with every fiber of my being.
“I didn’t do anything. He wanted to do this. Didn’t you, honey?” she says sweetly and steps under his arm so it’s around her.
I see a quick grimace of disgust cross Henry’s face before he replies, “Yeah.”
“No. He didn’t.” I confidently stare her down.
Attie and Elizabeth stand beside me in silent agreement. Maverick looks confused and annoyed. Even Knox looks ready to pummel Marisol and he is the least likely to be violent of us all.
Marisol’s face changes like she just realized something, “Oh. Are you having second thoughts about picking Lyncoln?”
Oh no she didn’t.
Before Lyncoln can stop me, I am flying at her again, this time almost making it. As I am almost within reach, Professor Dougall’s shrill and commanding voice breaks us apart.
“ENOUGH!”
I stop and Lyncoln resumes holding me back. He looks equally as ticked off as I am, annoyed too.
Dougall points at us. “You two. Out!”
I give Henry one last look. What did she do to make him agree to this? Why? Why, why, why, why, why? He avoids looking at me and rests his gaze on the floor instead. I know something is terribly wrong here.
What does she have on him? I feel like I want to punch the wall, but instead I walk forcefully down the hallway and get into the elevator before I do anything stupid.
“Hey.” Lyncoln is right there with me and starts trying to calm me down, though keeping his distance.
I look at him angrily. “He hates her, so what the heck is he doing?”
He looks me over, intense and concerned. “I don’t know, Regs, but we will figure it out.” He doesn’t physically reach for me, but those darned blue-brown eyes do.
“I have to go try to talk to him,” I demand.
“I know. Just give him time to get back upstairs,” he offers. “You don’t want her around when you do it.”
“Okay.” I nod, take a deep breath, and calm down a bit knowing he’s right.
Once in my room, I’m still fuming though. Marisol’s father is behind this and I highly doubt she’s innocent either. Why do the Hadenfelts seem like the most powerful people in the country? Even more so than President Maxwell?
I take off and throw my black gloves down
on my bed and begin pacing back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. This is bad. Not just bad because Henry is thrown back into the Culling, but bad because Marisol is surely going to win now. She and her dad at the helm of this country is dangerous… and that’s putting it lightly. As a Culling candidate, I’m supposed to be in the top 50 brightest females between the ages of 18-21, one of the best our country has to offer. Yet when it came to the manipulation game, she definitely outwitted me. For this round, anyway. I was so wrapped up in my own problems in choosing between Henry and Lyncoln that I completely underestimated her. Dismissing her as undeserving in being here, I forgot how crafty she could be.
I turn and slam into something hard. Before I have time to protest or push away from Lyncoln’s chest, he kisses me. I always feel like he kisses me like I’m the breath he is trying to catch, like he needs me. Like he’s drowning and needs air, and the only way he can get it is from me. Like I’m vital to his very existence. By the time he pulls back, I am breathless and barely remember why I was pacing in the first place.
“Promise me one thing,” he says softly, settling his hands around the back of my neck, resting his thumbs on my cheeks.
“What’s that?” I’m still breathing funny.
“You’ll come back to me.” He kisses my hair at my temple.
His words and gesture totally melt me. Of course this must be weird for him too. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugs. “Because Henry needs saving, and you’ll do whatever it takes to save someone you love.”
“But I chose you.” I put my hands on his wrists and squeeze.
“Yeah, before he needed saving. Do what you have to, just come back to me. Please.” The way he says it is pure honesty and I see a vulnerability in his eyes that I have rarely seen before. “Now that you’re mine, I would like to keep it that way.”
I grab him by the tie and pull him in even closer, whispering, “I chose you, Lyncoln Reed. And I’ll keep choosing you.” I kiss him like he just kissed me, or at least try to anyway. He leans into the kiss and wraps his arms around me. By the time we break, he has one hand wrapped around the back of my leg just above my knee and the other tangled in my hair.
Out of breath, I smile. “The love I feel for you and the love I have for Henry are two completely different and separate beasts. Stop comparing them. I made my choice and I will continue to stand by it. I only love him as a friend from this point on. I’m yours.”
“Mine.” He looks at me with that raw gaze that makes my skin all tingly. “Now let’s get to work and figure out what they have over Henry.” He sighs and takes a small step back from me but trails his eyes over me like he’s still slightly afraid I’m going to disappear.
“Okay, I’ll change and head up there shortly.” I move to my dresser to find some more casual clothes. The way Lyncoln is looking at me is making my body feel on fire and I’m not sure it should right now. I need to be focusing on the task at hand.
“Don’t,” Lyncoln says from behind me. I feel his breath on my neck though he isn’t touching me.
His voice startles me. “What?”
“Don’t change. You look too good like this. You’ll be distracting. It’ll drive him crazy,” he says softly, almost whispering, into my ear. “Don’t get me wrong. I would prefer that I be the only one to see you on this level of ravishing, but I know that if anyone is going to be able to get him to talk, it’s you.”
“Even better,” I say quietly, turning around to face him.
He gives me a signature Lyncoln half-smile. “Let me know how it goes.” He shrugs and starts to leave.
“Hey,” I stop him with a hand on his arm. “Wait for me here? I’ll want to talk to you when I get back.”
I just started this whole dating one of them thing less than 24 hours ago, so I know running off to the other one’s bedroom late at night doesn’t really make him believe I am confident in my choice. I am. I just have to make sure Henry is okay. He’s our best friend. We have to help him. We can’t let Marisol do this. We can’t let her win.
He breathes a sigh of relief and kisses me on my cheek. “I’d love to.”
I see some emotion pass over his face and can’t put a finger on it. “Lync, what aren’t you telling me?”
He thinks a moment before responding. “Putting myself in his shoes, he’s hurt. And I don’t doubt for a second the Hadenfelts have something on him, but I also know he just lost you and that was a huge blow. I imagine he didn’t want to lose the opportunity to further his father’s legacy too.” He stops to sigh and pull at his short, dark hair. “I’m just so pissed at him right now. This is a mess. And I guess I’m just questioning his intentions a little. If they would have tried to blackmail me…”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” I finish for him.
He nods once. It’s harsh but true.
I stand there quiet, considering his words, before he adds, “Go gentle, just don’t assume all of his intentions were pure or honorable. There has to be a part of him that still wants to win this.”
****
“So do we have a plan?” Sarge asks in the elevator.
“Not really,” I stop to shrug, “Just get him to talk.”
“Okay,” he looks at me amused. “And if the guards don’t let you in because he doesn’t want to talk?”
“I’ll dazzle them with my charm?” I shrug again as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
Sarge chuckles softly before getting his game face back on.
We walk down the hallway all business. I get to the door and the two guards there immediately try to turn us away. “The President and Mr. Maxwell aren’t taking guests tonight.”
“What are you talking about? We made plans earlier today?” I lie. This lie is so good, I almost even believe it myself. I don’t back down even an inch and they start to believe me.
They look at one another confused and their moment of hesitation is enough for me to start knocking.
After waiting for Henry, I’m surprised when the President answers the door. I blush in embarrassment, realizing I haven’t talked to him since making my choice in not choosing his son. I hate disappointing people and am sure I’ve let him down. Henry wouldn’t be in this position if I hadn’t turned him down… or let him go a while ago. My inability to make a decision has affected not only Henry, Lyncoln, and me, but now the whole country is at risk if Marisol has a better shot at winning this. Realizing that makes me feel inadequate. And small. And tired.
“Ms. Scott,” he says looking worried but gives me a kind smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I smile at him, or try to anyway. “Is he here?”
“Yes, but he won’t talk to me. I’m just as shocked as you are,” the President shakes his head, worry and concern apparent on his face.
“I’m sorry. I feel partially to blame here,” I say honestly as my eyes fill with tears. Don’t lose it now, Reagan.
“Don’t, dear. I don’t blame you at all. There is someone to blame here, and it definitely isn’t you,” he says it kindly and pats his hand on my arm.
“Father,” Henry interrupts us with more anger than I have heard him use before. He was mad at me when I stormed into the interrogation room to save the drifter Samson, but even then, he didn’t sound this mad.
“Henry, look who stopped by,” the President smiles and turns to wink at me, then moves aside.
“I told you no visitors,” Henry snaps.
What the heck?! I have never seen him talk to his dad like this. He worships the ground his dad walks on. He would never blatantly disrespect him.
“Henry. Please,” I plead.
“No, Reagan. I can’t,” he says with the same brush off. But his eyes. His eyes stay on me a moment. I see the hurt and concern in them.
What is going on?! In the interview with Professor Dougall, when he smiled you couldn’t see his dimples like you can when he really smiles. He may still be in the Culling, but he isn’t completely happy ab
out it. I know that his feelings for me were real. He isn’t with Marisol because he wants to be, right? He was just advocating for her going home a few days ago for Pete’s sake.
“You can’t even just talk to me?” I take a step closer to him.
He takes a step back and looks to the left briefly. Defeated. “I just can’t, Reagan.”
“So she controls who you talk to now too?” I am getting angrier by the second. Deep breaths are doing nothing to settle the rage I’m feeling.
He looks to the left again and clenches his jaw. He is angry too. I don’t think it’s at me either.
“What did she do to you?!” I demand. “What does she have on you?!”
“Nothing.”
I take a huge step forward and try to grab his hands. “Talk to me!”
“Just go!” He pulls his hands away from me, putting them both in the air in exasperation and turns to shut the door.
I fling myself forward and wrap my arms around him in a hug. For a moment he lets me, and I hear him suck in his breath in surprise. Then roughly, he removes my arms and scoots me back. He glances to the left one more time before he slams the door in my face.
****
“I don’t get it.” My shoulders are tight and I feel a tension headache coming on. The stress and frustrations of the last 48 hours are starting to get to me. Not sleeping well isn’t helping matters.
“Me neither,” Lyncoln slams a fist down on my coffee table as he gets up to pace my room. His jaw is clenched in that way that lets me know he is angry but trying to reign it in.
For the last two days, we’ve been trying to figure out what has been going on with Marisol and Henry. Much to our dismay, he isn’t talking to either of us. In our classes, they sit by one another and seem to be a team, but I know Henry enough to know that it isn’t a real partnership. They mostly just talk to one another and stay away from the rest of us.
He can’t actually be into her, I know that in my gut. But, we can’t help him until we know what is going on. And he isn’t talking. At all.
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 1