Rebel (The Alliance Chronicles Book 4)

by SF Benson

  Next topic.

  I exhale. “I want to know why you let Mom walk away with me. Why didn’t you stop her?”

  Venter looks toward the mirror before he speaks. “She felt the need to ‘spread her wings,’ I guess. So, I let her go. I don’t need to force a woman to get what I need.”

  I shake my head. “Not the story Mom’s telling. She made a video claiming you laid hands on her. She said she left out of fear for the two of us.”

  “I assure you, son—”

  “Stop calling me that!” I yell, and my hands go up.

  He purses his lips for a moment. “Have it your way. Zared, I assure you, I never hit your mother. She chose to leave. Men aren’t the only ones who have wandering eyes.”

  I cringe at his words, not wanting to face what he’s implying.

  Venter asks, “If you’re done with your questions, can we get down to business?”

  “By all means.”

  He pushes off the wall and walks toward me. “First things first, I need to find the SIM card. I know neither you nor your girlfriend has it.”

  “Nice to know you’re up on current events,” I quip.

  His eyes narrow. “This isn’t a fucking game, Zared. I can have Grekov back in here. Let him beat it out of you. Is that what you want?”

  “Turning me into a punching bag for Riza won’t do you any good. I’m sure it will give some of your flunkies a good workout, though. They seem to need it, especially flabby-ass Grekov. Where did you find him? A pyshki shop in Russia?”

  “I’m afraid humor won’t help you here.” The man who donated his sperm to the cause tucks his hands in his pockets and paces the floor. “What you need is a proper incentive. You will tell me who has the card and where they went. If not, your precious girlfriend will be added to the Helix program immediately.”

  A fist forms in my throat. No matter how hard I try to swallow, I can’t get past it.

  “Her DNA will be collected. Afterward, she will be exterminated.” Venter’s head rocks toward me, twisting from side to side. “Good. I see that bothers you.”

  “Anyone with a heart would be bothered,” I mutter.

  My father leans over me. “Here’s a news flash for you. I saved you, but I can dispose of you just as easily.”

  “Sorry, Dad, killing me won’t help you either. As far as Tru goes, touch her and I’ll make sure to take you to Hell with me.”

  Venter laughs. The fucking fool actually laughs.

  “Son, you’re more like me than I thought. I used to feel that way about your mother. Would have killed men just for looking at her. Here’s a little advice for you. Women turn. They’ll sell you out for the next big dick that comes along. Can’t trust them for anything.”

  My hands clench. If this man keeps talking shit about my mother, I’m going to make him eat his words. I’m sure it would earn me a beat down from Grekov, but it would be worth it. “Is that so? Then why’d you keep emailing Mom over the years?”

  Venter stops in front of the mirror and taps on the glass. “I’ll tell you that story when you tell me who has the card.”

  Fine. If it will buy me some time to formulate a plan… “Mark. Mark Carter has it.”

  “Good job, son.” My father pats me on the shoulder.

  I cringe.

  He turns toward the mirror. “You heard that. Find Captain Jones.”

  “What?” I stammer. I said nothing about Asher.

  Venter’s lips curl up. “Confused? Let me help you out. First, Asher Jones just received a change in status. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to strip him of his rank. Traitors can’t be in the military.”

  My face tightens.

  “Still confused? Okay. I’m aware of your friendship with Jones. It’s something Aoki missed. If he hadn’t, he’d be with us today. Carter, on the other hand, is someone you despise. You’d gladly push him in front of a train to save your friend.”

  How the hell am I going to fix this one? Asher owes me an explanation for stealing the card, but he doesn’t owe me his life.

  “What’s going to happen to Asher?” I clench my hands attempting to cease the trembling.

  Venter crosses his arms and rocks back on his heels. “The same thing that happens to all traitors. He’ll be executed after we get his full confession. We need to make sure everyone responsible for this insurrection is exterminated.”

  A shadow to my right catches my eye. It’s a soldier holding out a wool coat. My heart lifts from the pit of my stomach when I see it’s Niang, a Purebred from Senegal and a mercenary for the Alliance. We met after I killed Katsuo.

  My father takes his time putting on the garment. “You should be concerned about your own fate.”

  “And that is?”

  “You’ll return to Washington with me. When I restore the AR to a democracy, citizens will want to see a strong family unit.”

  Speaking of family…

  “Where’s Tru?”

  “Your sassy girlfriend? Don’t worry about her. Our plans for Miss Shepard do not include you.” He jerks his head toward Niang. “Transfer my son to the White House. I need to meet with Lieutenant Bartlett.”

  A good leader is caring and unconcerned with their own reward.

  —from “An Introspective on Combative Strategies” by Dawa Zhu

  Tru

  Revenge.

  The word sticks in my throat like old-fashioned school paste.

  I can’t deny exacting punishment hasn’t been my focus since the day Eden murdered my mother. At times, I even played out possible scenarios for ending her life—envisioning the spirit fade from her unsympathetic, mud-brown eyes as a crimson trail leaks from her lips.

  The best part of my imaginings has been figuring out how to do away with Eden. Death by my bare hands? Clean, but too much effort. Maybe I’d use my blade? Efficient, but messy. Maybe shooting her brains out the way she did my mother would be best? An eye for an eye.

  They’re all just rampant thoughts without substance.

  Right. Have you forgotten your deal with Malcolm?

  A lapse in judgment, nothing more. Decisions made while grieving don’t count. Well, at least they shouldn’t. If they do, then I’m no better than this fickle-ass woman. Hell no! I am in no way, shape, or form the same as Eden Bartlett. She’s lived her whole life wanting and plotting her revenge. Retaliation hasn’t confiscated my every waking thought.

  Much.

  The promise of a future retribution hasn’t hardened me and changed me.

  Much.

  Stop it! My little voice screams at me.

  You’re not her!

  You deserve justice.

  Eden is a heartless woman with no regard for anyone other than herself. I’m not like that. I could never be that way. I lean back in the chair, take a deep breath, and exhale.

  “We are nothing alike, Eden. You committed murder. Now you’re calling their deaths justice. We both know that’s a lie.”

  “I’m more than happy to be the bearer of bad news, Tru.” Eden stands and walks around the desk. She slides over a stack of files and perches on the edge. “Here’s something you should know. Under the New Order’s laws, your father’s actions made his survivors accountable for his crime. The punishment for taking a life recklessly is death. It was only a matter of time before authorities hauled all of you in to pay for the felony. My killing your family was justice. Pure and simple. Consider yourself fortunate that you’re alive.”

  My stomach churns, and it’s difficult to swallow back the bile. Her words are more proof this government must come to an end. The leaders need to be punished for their heinous misdeeds. If their distorted logic is fully implemented, families of murderers will be wiped out—a perverted form of mass genocide.

  I push the hair out of my face. “I don’t believe you. If that was the case, shouldn’t my family and I been put to death years ago?”

  “That was the intention, but I intervened on your behalf,” she states and smiles
with the utmost satisfaction. “It always helps to have influential people in the right places. My aunt is a commanding officer. Before I entered the Corps, Aunt Carmella told me she had a gift for me. Guess what it was?” She claps her hands together and waits for my answer.

  When I remain quiet, she continues, “It was your family’s death order. I wanted it carried out right away, but Aunt Carmella is a smart and patient woman. She advised me to wait for the right moment. If we planned it correctly, we could create a bigger impact. Maybe leave you with a life lesson. So, I had my lawyer put a stay on the order.”

  Life lesson?

  Doesn’t Riza offer psychological counseling? Eden should check into it, sooner than later.

  I clench my fists and fight to stay seated. “And how did you figure out the ‘right moment’?”

  Eden holds her head back and smiles like she just heard the best joke ever. She strokes her throat and taps the base of it before speaking. “It was so fucking easy.” Her cold, steely eyes lock on mine. “It all started with Cris. Running into your brother was a stroke of genius. I had to monitor his comings and goings to do so. I learned what he liked in a woman and made sure the fool fell for me. Hard. The downside was I had to endure living in that shit hole you people called a home, but it was all part of the plan.”

  “Why drag Cris into your so-called plan?” I lash out against Eden’s insane methods. “When your family died, Cris didn’t even live with us.”

  “It didn’t matter. Anyone dumb enough to align themselves with Gabriela Pereira deserved to die.” Eden crosses her arms and purses her lips. Her posture straightens and she asks, “Shall I continue telling you the plan?”

  I nod. As much as I hate hearing the details, I might learn something useful.

  She stands and walks behind the glass desk. “To carry out my scheme with the utmost efficiency, I had to study my prey.” Eden reaches for the paperweight. “Figure out what things your family valued and held dear to your fucking little hearts.” She stares at the item, gazes up, and points her finger at me. “None of this would have been possible had it not been for you.”

  My muscles quiver. I can feel my blood pressure rising. There’s no way I would ever help Eden, willingly or otherwise. “How the hell did I help you?”

  “You might appreciate the knowledge I’m dropping on you.” Eden sets the paperweight down, places her palms on the desk, and leans over it. “Children are known for having such predictable behaviors. Before your hormones kick in, you are perfect little robots, doing whatever your parents tell you to do without question.”

  She cocks her head. “But once those hormones kick in, you stop being the perfect little kids. You have feelings and emotions that your bodies are begging for you to explore. Each. And. Every. One.” Eden jabs the air with a fingertip on every word. “In your case, you were so restless, you started sneaking out.”

  I press my lips together. How is it that everyone knew what I was up to yet no one stopped me?

  “Oh?” She tosses her hair back. “You thought no one knew about your trips to the Underground?”

  My head jerks back. Involuntarily, my leg bounces up and down. Cris and Ko knew about my hanging out in the dangerous Warehouse District. Did Mom know? What about my uncle? If they knew why did they let me go back over and over again?

  Eden fakes a surprised gasp and her eyes narrow. “How fucking cute! You honestly thought you were being secretive. Stupid bitch, I watched everything you did. You tested your boundaries while hoping Mommy and Daddy…”

  Eden holds up a finger and her lips curl up. “Oh, wait, your uncle…would pick up your messes and keep you protected. I was zeroing in on the perfect time for me to strike. Then you found the tech and ended up here. Although killing your mother was ahead of schedule, it was priceless. Tell me, how long did you blame yourself for it?”

  My pulse revs up like a Grand Prix auto. Sweat trickles down my spine. I picture my hands around Eden’s scrawny neck—the words stop as she struggles for air, her eyes bulge, and I keep pressing my thumbs into her throat until all movement stops.

  Eden walks up to me, grasps the chair arms, and leans down in my face. “How long, you little bitch?” Her voice takes on a whiny, sing-song quality as she taunts me. “My mommy’s dead, and it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have accessed the SIM card. Waa-waa-waa!”

  My shaky hand flies up, as if by instinct, but she grabs my wrist before I can connect. “Nice try.”

  I bare my teeth. My chest heaves rapidly.

  Eden ignores the change in my disposition, pushes my hand away, and returns to her spot on the corner of the desk. “I can tell vengeance is something you want.” She delivers the callous words with a raised eyebrow and a tilted head. “Too bad you’ll never have it.”

  Fury, like a fist, clutches my heart. All the events in my life have been about someone else’s twisted idea of personal justice.

  Ruthless.

  Ridiculous.

  Reprehensible.

  Eden wanted to right the wrongs done to her the day of the accident. Taa wanted payback for her husband’s infidelity with my mother. In every situation, I’m being held responsible for somebody else’s actions. This shit stops here and now. I won’t continue paying for other people’s debts. Lord knows, I’ve racked up enough of my own.

  “We’re done here,” Eden announces and turns her back on me.

  Wrong fucking move.

  I see an opportunity I didn’t think would ever happen. Anger collides with logic and everything turns red. The blade, tucked in my boot, calls to me. My fingers wrap around the knife’s hilt and squeeze it tight. Eden leans over the side of the desk, oblivious to the activity behind her, and reaches for the intercom button.

  Perfect position.

  Without a second thought, I remove the blade, come up behind her, and plunge the knife deep into the side of her neck.

  She gasps—no faking this one—and stumbles forward, catching the corner of the desk. Eden’s hand clumsily reaches for the knife as a fountain of crimson flows around her fingers. I watch as she drops to her knees, her eyes wide, and then her body crumples to the floor. Her weave soaks up the blood pooling around her.

  Watching her die isn’t the cathartic experience I longed for. It’s like viewing a convict on death row finally die. You feel better knowing justice has been served, but if you’re the one who injected the deadly cocktail, a part of your soul dies along with the criminal. You pray for your own forgiveness.

  Flashes of my family’s faces travel through my mind. Eden doesn’t deserve remorse.

  “Now we’re done, bitch,” I state.

  Good rulers are careful in all their words and actions.

  —from “An Introspective on Combative Strategies” by Dawa Zhu

  Tru

  I sink into the chair and sneak a quick glance at Eden’s still body. Blood no longer flows copiously. Hatred has stopped spewing from her vile mouth. Her insensitive eyes are fixed with the unfocused sight of the dead. A sickly-sweet smell settles in the room, like blood in a butcher shop. It turns my stomach, and I reach for the wastebasket beside the desk. Unfortunately, I can’t puke away my guilt.

  I pray this is the last life I take. My action, although justified, was reckless. There’s no way to cover up what I have done. Anyone who enters this office will know I’m responsible.

  This mission, which fills me with remorse, has made me an assassin—a rebellious citizen using death as a solution to my problems. I hate how I’m changing. Sure, I’ve always been willing to take unnecessary risks in my life. But this…all the killing… It goes beyond being precarious. Murder leaves behind a foulness on the soul. You can’t go to the store and purchase a cleanser strong enough to vanquish the residue. I’m fairly certain my recent actions have condemned my soul to Hell.

  The distant sound of footsteps approaching the office door grab my attention. My knife, Cris’s present to me, is still lodged in Eden’s neck. I have no choice but to
reclaim it.

  I crouch beside her body and grasp the hilt. The knife makes a sickening, sucking sound as I dislodge it. The blade, slick with blood and gore, glistens in the overhead lights. I wrinkle my nose and wipe the edge on Eden’s clothing. Another wave of nausea hits me.

  The footfalls are getting louder.

  I quickly hold my head over the wastebasket and think about getting my hands on a gun. Surely Eden has one here. I sit back on my heels, wipe my mouth, and quickly survey the room. A small cabinet behind the desk catches my eye. I sidestep her body and rush over to it. Inside, I find a handgun with ammo. I slip behind the black, floor-length curtain just as the door bursts open.

  Someone enters the office. Their heavy boots storm across the floor.

  “Sir, we have a problem,” a thin-voiced soldier says.

  Footsteps, long and deliberate, sweep across the carpet.

  A heavily accented voice, possibly Russian, replies, “That is a problem indeed. Get this body out of here before Venter arrives.”

  “What about the culprit?”

  “Replay the security footage. The person could not have gotten far.”

  Footsteps race back and forth in Eden’s office. A zipper hisses open. Someone grunts. There’s a loud thud before the zipper closes with a whoosh. Finally, there’s the soft click of the door.

  I count to ten before I step from behind the curtain. Everyone is gone. Only things left behind are a foul stench in the air and an irregular-shaped blood stain on the carpet. Unfortunately, there’s no time to contemplate my next move. I have to keep going before someone sees the footage of me killing Eden.

  I cross the room and press the button for the elevator. Movement catches my eye. Someone is inside and on their way to the office. There are two doors. Light shines from beneath the one to my left. It’s dark underneath the other. I crack open the one on the right and face a stairwell. I’m surprised there isn’t a visible security camera. Doesn’t matter. I have to chance it.

  My feet hit the stairs, and I start running.