Adaptive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 2)

by Becky Moynihan

  Then I snickered. I must look ridiculous, so I chortled harder until my body shook with laughter.

  “Are you injured?”

  I raised my head, clumps of snow falling off my forehead as I peered up at a barely-winded Ryker. Ugh. So not fair. I attempted a straight face before answering, “No.”

  He frowned. “Then what are you doing?”

  I flashed an impish grin, then pushed my arms and legs through the thickening snow. “Making a snow angel.”

  His expression was perfect. Slack-jawed and bug-eyed. If the man looming above me had been Bren, he would have joined in, but apparently Ryker didn’t do snow angels. He reached down and hauled me up by my fur-lined hood. When I was on my feet, he pulled me close, close enough that his warm breath fanned my cheeks as he snarled, “What is wrong with you?”

  I shoved his chest and he released me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He looked to the sky and growled through his teeth like an animal. Payback was all too easy with him. “You’re going to screw up this mission, I know it. The Supreme Elite never should have allowed you to step foot outside those walls.”

  I crossed my arms. “Are you questioning the Supreme Elite’s decision?”

  In the fading light, his piercing eyes shone brightly. He knew what I was doing. There was no way he could argue that point. “I’m questioning your intelligence. It’s only a matter of time before your dumb luck runs out. And I’m not going to take the blame when you wind up with a frostbitten finger or nose. You do realize if that happens, you have to cut off the dead tissue?”

  At that, my whole body shivered. I shoved my fists into my armpits for warmth. “Don’t worry your inflated head about me. I can take care of myself.”

  He snorted but didn’t comment, even though I could tell he wanted to. Once more, he trekked up the hill. I paid more attention to my steps this time, placing each foot in the bootprints he made. To keep from thinking of the chill sinking deeper into my skin with each passing minute, I focused on the mission. My task was easy enough, in theory, and so was Ryker’s. Find Bren, make sure he completed his mission, then return to the city. But so many things could go wrong.

  “What is Bren’s mission?” I asked a brooding Ryker. His annoyance at my earlier antics was all too obvious. We had lost several more minutes of daylight, and the tracks were no longer crisp but fuzzy around the edges.

  “I don’t know,” he grumbled, like the not-knowing annoyed him further. Maybe he wasn’t used to being left in the dark. I was more than used to it.

  “And why would Renold need me to kill Bren if he doesn’t complete this mystery mission? Can’t he just activate the chip’s kill switch?”

  Ryker shook his head, and I thought he muttered, “So ignorant.”

  “What was that? Did you just say I’m brilliant for coming up with such an astute observation?”

  He rolled his shoulders back as if trying to shrug the questions off. But he answered, albeit mockingly, “I’m assuming you don’t know what your Elite Guardian title means?” Before I could come up with a witty reply, he continued. “The Supreme Elite is entrusting you with the safety of Tatum City. But first, you must prove your loyalty.”

  What do I value more than anything?

  “So you’re saying this is a test? Of my loyalty?” A test to see if I would do my duty and return, or run away with Bren. Because he knew. Renold knew how I felt about the giant idiot with honey-gold eyes. Used to. Used to feel. Not anymore.

  “Maybe you’re not completely stupid,” Ryker said.

  “Thanks. It’s unfortunate that you are,” I shot back. Ugh. He brought out the worst in me.

  An hour later, the tracks were gone. Still, we pressed onward and upward. My calves burned, especially the wounded one, and my toes were numb. But I didn’t worry about frostbite. Not yet. My stomach was an empty pit, though. I was used to two, sometimes three solid meals a day, and I’d barely eaten more than bread for a day and a half now. And yet, the thought of Ryker’s insults if I complained kept my mouth shut.

  You cannot break me. You cannot break me.

  So busy chanting, I didn’t see him stop. I plowed into his back. Again. Traveling on an incline, the action knocked me backward. My butt plopped into the snow. I was too tired to care how stupid I looked as I crawled to my feet again, brushing wet snow from my backside. Great. Now I couldn’t feel my butt.

  Ryker didn’t even glance at me. Jerk. “We should set up camp,” he said. I stared, waiting for instructions. When he continued to scout our surroundings in silence, I offered to collect some sticks for a fire. A few steps later, he halted me with two terrible words: “No fire.”

  I whirled. “What? We’ll freeze!”

  “Not if you take the proper precautions. It won’t be pleasant, but we can’t risk a fire and attract unwanted attention. There are too many unknowns out here. Things that are hungry and wouldn’t think twice about slaughtering us to get at our food supply. And that’s just the animals.”

  Stars.

  “Want to head back yet?” he taunted.

  The question set my blood to simmering. “Not unless I’m in a body bag.”

  “I could scrounge one up if you’d like.”

  “Don’t bother. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you some more. So what’s the plan?”

  He pointed to a small clearing off the road. “See that outcropping of rock?”

  I squinted into the gloom and pelting snow. “No. Do you have night vision like Bren?”

  At that, he stiffened. “How much did he tell you?”

  Goosebumps raised on top of my already goose-bumped flesh. “Not nearly enough.”

  His shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch. “I can see better than you, smell better than you, hear better than you, but more importantly, I am faster and far stronger than you. That’s all you need to know.”

  As he headed for the outcropping, a thousand words pleaded to be expelled. Only a handful made it out at a soft whisper. “You have a very large ego.”

  “Heard that.”

  “Which must mean you have a very small—”

  His narrowed eyes landed on mine. The words died on my tongue. “The sooner you set up your tent, the sooner you can feel your toes again.”

  I blinked. How did he know my toes were numb? Anyone could have guessed that. And tent? There was no way I had a tent in my backpack. I decided to check anyway, just so he wouldn’t call me stupid again. My numb fingers fumbled at the straps, then struggled with the zipper. Finally, I rummaged around inside. Water bottle, food, spare clothing, first aid kit, small electric lantern, sleeping bag. Bren’s book.

  I shoved that to the very bottom of the pack. But no tent. Just a silver wad of slippery fabric. I pulled the mystery item out and held it up. “This?”

  “Let me guess. You don’t know how to open it.” With that, a silver single-person tent snapped open in front of him, making me jump. Impossible. How did the material become so rigid?

  As my gloved fingers poked and prodded at the unassuming fabric, I heard Ryker get to his feet. No, no, no. I tugged on it, first gently, then with a vengeance. He was not going to help me. I could open a dumb tent.

  “Snap it.” He was hovering over me now with arms crossed. I slapped at the material and he groaned. “Like this.” As he bent over to grab the infuriating thing, I yanked it out of reach. In doing so, the tent magically popped open. Right into his face.

  He grunted as the inflated material forced him back. And then the most amazing thing happened. He tumbled into the snow. I held my breath, having no idea what he would do. His expression shifted from surprise, to horror, to—

  Uh oh. He was gearing up for a “let’s insult Lune” moment. I beat him to it. “Do they put labels on these things? Like, Warning: don’t put your face in the tent while it opens. My mum said they used to for the stupid people who couldn’t think for themselves. You know, before the Silent War . . .”

  “You think this is fu
nny?” Steam practically shot out of his nostrils as he picked himself up and knocked the snow off his pants.

  I shook my head. “Yes.” Did I just say that out loud? Oops. I bit the inside of my cheek.

  “If you think you’re so smart, you should have no problem fending for yourself the rest of the night. Have at it.” With that, he grabbed his backpack and strode to his tent, disappearing from view.

  Ouch. I was on my own.

  After zipping myself inside the makeshift shelter, I flipped on the lantern. When I discovered that its yellow body emitted a weak strain of warmth, I tore off my gloves and wrapped my hands around it, moaning softly. So good. Soon, sharp pricks of pain jabbed my fingers as feeling rushed back into them. Not so good.

  I laid out my sleeping bag and tucked myself inside—boots, coat, and all. They were damp, but I couldn’t bear the thought of shedding any layers.

  As I sat there chewing on dried meat, a bone-deep exhaustion hit me. What with being zapped unconscious, sliced in the neck and leg, and wading through miles of snow uphill, my body had reached its limit. But when I laid down, even with the warm lantern propped close to my face, I couldn’t stop shivering long enough to drift asleep. I also couldn’t stop thinking about predators lurking just beyond the tent. What if a saber cat, my oldest fear, found me while I was sleeping?

  An hour passed. Maybe two. A headache pulsed at my temples as my teeth chattered incessantly. My whole body shook, no matter how tightly I curled into a ball. Outside the tent, frozen tree limbs clacked together, sounding eerily similar to twigs snapping underfoot. And so, I spent my first real night in the wild awake, cursing Ryker, hating Renold, and blaming Bren for my pathetically miserable state of existence.

  Worst of all though, I wanted to go back.

  I wanted to go back to Tatum City.

  “How’d you sleep?” The taunt raised my epic crankiness level.

  “Screw you,” I said, my voice flat, toneless. I wrestled with the tent, trying to wad it into a messy ball. From the corner of my eye, I watched Ryker break his tent down and tuck it neatly inside his pack. My lips tightened. I wasn’t going to ask for his help. Last night had been the most miserable experience of my life. I could barely stay awake and the headache still pounded unmercifully, further sapping my energy.

  Ryker had no idea he stood on incredibly thin ice. I was in no mood for games this morning. At least the clouds had stopped spitting snow and the sun decided to show. But the light only magnified the ache behind my eyes.

  “Bend it.”

  “I’ll bend you,” I muttered.

  He huffed an irritated sigh, then stomped over to me. I was too numb, too slow to yank the tent out of reach. He took it from my floundering fingers and twisted the two sides in opposite directions. Like magic, the rigid material deflated, allowing him to crumple the sleek fabric into his palm. “See? Bend it. Remember for next time.”

  Next time. Right. How was I going to endure another night of this miserableness?

  A shiver racked me from head to toe. I winced.

  “Take a pain med. Here.” He tossed a rattling object at me. They gave him a whole bottle? My eyes slowly slid to his—it took me a moment to focus. He was studying me neutrally. Not concerned. Not mocking. Just . . .

  My chin jutted out. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t need it. A headache doesn’t warrant treatment.”

  He snorted. “You insiders are so lame.”

  I stilled. Even the blood in my veins slowed. “Excuse me?”

  A corner of his mouth twitched. “You heard me. Your ideals are pointless. Why suffer needlessly? For pride and glory? You’re a bunch of arrogant fools.”

  I bared my teeth and hissed, “I’m not one of them!”

  “Then stop acting like one.”

  “I’m not—” I growled in frustration, which only sent my head spinning. “Fine. You know what? I’ll take a stupid pill.”

  His mouth twitched some more right before he turned away and began strapping on his gear. “Make that two pills or you’ll never get through the day. We won’t be taking breaks. I can only scent his trail for so long before it grows cold.”

  Scent his trail? Is this guy for real?

  “Are you part bloodhound?”

  He coughed, shaking his head. “I’m no more dog than you are.”

  There were so many things I wanted to say about that comment, but this conversation was worsening my headache. Minutes later, we were all set to go, and I did indeed choke down two pills—the pain was that bad. My muscles were still clenched against the morning’s chill, but the sun’s warmth helped take the edge off.

  The world was all blue skies and sparkling white wonderland. If I hadn’t just experienced the worst night of my life, I’d marvel at the pure beauty. But my brain felt untethered. One moment it was floating, the next knocking from the inside out as if ordering me to lay down and rest already. I couldn’t, though. Time was of the essence and I didn’t think Ryker would stop even if my brain exploded from the painful pressure.

  No. There was only one thing to do. Walk.

  But, stars above, why did it have to be uphill?

  For the third time in the last half hour, I heard a twig snap to the left of us. I watched Ryker carefully, expecting him to pause, maybe even investigate, but he continued to scale the ever-steepening road with unwavering strides.

  You can’t hide from me for long. I’ll find you.

  What if we were being followed again? What if Skervvy had sniffed me out and was waiting for the opportune moment to stick a knife in my back?

  I chewed on my lip, hating the thought of sounding paranoid, but self-preservation won out. “So I met a couple of creepy dudes the other night in the old city,” I began nonchalantly. Ryker tensed but didn’t stop. “I think they might be following us.”

  That got his attention. He snorted, shaking his head like I’d said something stupid. Again. “We’re not being trailed by humans.”

  A second passed. Then another and another. All the different ways I could murder him in his sleep flitted through my mind. Why hadn’t I thought to pack a fork? I ground my teeth together before taking the bait. “Then what?”

  He shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s the large wolf dog you shared your bread with. He knows you’re an easy target and is probably looking for seconds.” My hands formed fists. Or tried to through my gloves. “I could be wrong though. Might be a saber cat.”

  That did it, he needed to die. He was worse than Lars!

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I looked up in time to avoid another Ryker collision and halted unsteadily beside him. He studied me quizzically, completely oblivious that I was plotting his death. When he continued to stare, I followed his gaze to my hand, which was clutching one of my gold daggers. When did that happen? I twirled it slowly before sliding the blade into its sheath. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  His days were numbered. My body craved his demise more than I thought.

  “Why saber cats?” He turned and resumed trudging up the slope, missing the dark scowl I threw at him. Did he know everything about me?

  “You know I’m not going to tell you that, right?” At his silence, I glibly added, “What are you afraid of?”

  “Obnoxious questions.”

  “Well, then I’ll make sure to ask as many of them as I can. Here’s another one: what’s with the moon and claw tattoo?”

  His laugh was clipped. Annoyed. Maybe even a touch angry. “You spent all those months training with Bren and he never told you his past?”

  I sucked in air too quickly and had to muffle a cough. “He—he has one, too?” I wasn’t about to admit how little I knew Bren. That he hadn’t willingly told me about himself. That Renold had conditioned me not to ask questions. But the moment I’d left the city, my question filter had broken.

  “No, but he knows what the tattoo is for. It’s our clan’s mark. All you need to know is
that it means ‘nocturnal predator.’”

  Our clan. Our.

  I blinked slowly as my brain took its sweet time registering his words. Then images flashed through my mind faster than I could process. Bearded men. Pirates. Tattoos. A younger me, gagged and bound. Kidnapped. Betrayed. I didn’t see your tattoo earlier. That makes us . . .

  Made them what?

  Clan. Tattoos. Kidnapped. Clan. Our clan . . .

  I froze midstep. “No,” I breathed. My heart thundered. Adrenaline rushed through me. “Not again. No. No, no, no.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I startled as the deep voice penetrated the whirling storm of memories. My eyes met my captor’s, confusion momentarily stunning me when I realized they weren’t gold but a pale blue with black rims. Not Bren’s eyes. Ryker’s. Apparently they had more in common than I thought. Way more. I hadn’t considered until this very moment that Ryker’s tattoo could be the same as the tattooed men who’d kidnapped me.

  Say hello to your father for me, Renold had said to him right before we’d left the city. What did that mean? Maybe Ryker’s real mission was to take me to his father. His clan. And then what? All of my old anger and bitterness roared to the surface. No way was I going to be blindsided and kidnapped again.

  I had an arrow nocked to my bow and pointed at his heart in the span of a breath.

  He moved toward me and I pulled the string taut, halting him in his tracks. His lips pulled back, baring his teeth. “What’s gotten into you?”

  My fingers spasmed, almost releasing the arrow. Ryker growled low in warning. Blood pumped loudly in my ears. Two words drummed against my skull, over and over until I had to expel them or I’d explode. “Recruiter. Clan.”

  I released the arrow.

  For a split second, pure elation filled me as I watched that arrow tip slice toward my kidnapper. I was stronger now. Wiser. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.