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

by Becky Moynihan

  I felt for the slightly raised scar on my own neck, fighting off a shudder. “So if we fail our missions?”

  His face turned serious. “Others will take our place. They’ll be the ones enduring whatever torture techniques that madman comes up with next. That’s why we need to get Iris away from him. Now that the citizens are aware and questioning the system, Renold will be desperate to retain control. If I prove myself loyal to him, if I complete my mission, he’ll trust me. I could find his weakness—and the city’s—then discover the safest way to wrestle power from him and free the people from their slavery to the Trials.”

  “And if he doesn’t trust you?” I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t beg him to let me go again, so I wouldn’t shout in his face that if he was willing to sacrifice himself for this cause, why couldn’t I?

  “If he doesn’t trust me, then I’ll do whatever it takes to sabotage the system from the inside before it can be stopped. One way or another, Renold Tatum and the Elite Trials will be destroyed.”

  That hum. That buzz.

  I couldn’t get the sickening sound of electricity out of my head.

  When I woke from the nightmare—which no doubt manifested after further speculation on Renold’s penchant for torture earlier today—I blinked in confusion, wondering why I was standing in the middle of my dimly lit room. My muscles were still tightly wound as though warding off additional agony. The feeling lingered, that blinding jolt of white hot pain, so intense that my limbs had shaken, then stiffened. Deadened.

  But I hadn’t been the one receiving the barbaric affliction.

  Bren had.

  His screams had rung through my skull, and I couldn’t help him. That helplessness traveled through me now, leaving me breathless and weak. I needed to see him! I stumbled, but caught myself on the arm of the couch. After a moment of clearing my vision and calming my galloping heartbeat, I opened the door.

  And there he was.

  The unexpected sight startled me and I flinched back, instinctively coiling my body into a defensive stance. But I was so overcome with relief to see him upright and unharmed that, a split second later, I launched myself at him. He uttered a surprised grunt when my arms tightly squeezed his neck. I pressed my nose to his warm skin that always smelled of sunshine, a scent that I decided was my favorite.

  When he pulled me closer, I exhaled shakily. Safe. He’s safe, I assured myself.

  “You all right?” he asked, his voice husky from sleep. “I heard you cry out.”

  Why did I feel like crying right now? There was something so real about that dream. I couldn’t shake it. And why had I been standing when I’d woken up? Still, I nodded. “Just a nightmare.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I should. Maybe if I told him, he’d realize that returning to Tatum City would be the death of him. Or maybe he’d bring me with him so we could take down the system together. But would he believe me? That my dream had felt like a . . . a what? Premonition? Was that part of my ability? Or was it just paranoia? Ugh. I didn’t know. Maybe if I waited until morning, my head would be clearer. So I simply said, “No. Just . . . please don’t go.”

  I had meant to the city, but Bren was focused on the present. In a breath, he was carrying me into my room. The door snicked shut behind us as he laid me on my bed. From above, he watched me with an expression that held so much at once. Love. Caring. Adoration. My chest ached at the sight. But there was a troubled look in his eyes too. Indecision. Regret.

  No. Not tonight. I wouldn’t allow pain tonight. If everything were to change tomorrow, the least we could do was live this moment together. So I set aside my insecurities, my fears and doubts. And rose up onto my knees so my face was level with his. “Stay,” I breathed, grasping his shirt and tugging him closer.

  He didn’t resist, intent on my every move as I trailed my fingers lower, as I fisted the shirt’s hem. Before my mind could catch up with my actions, I lifted the material, exposing his abdomen, his chest, until he was helping me remove the shirt completely. My breath hitched as I allowed my gaze to wander, to take in the shadowed swells and dips of his muscles.

  Heat crawled up my neck at my boldness, but I held onto my resolve. He needed to know. He needed to know how I felt about him. If words continued to fail me, then all I could do was show him. And so I didn’t falter. I didn’t stop my body from leaning forward, didn’t stop my lips from pressing a kiss to his heart. The feel of his skin against mine was soft and warm and perfect. Shyness evaporated. My hands found his bare waist. He tensed under my touch, sucking in a sharp breath. A thousand butterflies fluttered inside my stomach at the sound.

  I kissed a path across his chest, slowly, taking my time. His fingers dug into my hair, clenching as I ran my palms up his spine. When I lightly traced my nails over his skin, shivers racked his body. I could do this all night, touching him, marveling at his reaction. But he moved then, tugging on my hair so my chin lifted. His mouth, hot and needy, fell on mine.

  Heady warmth ignited my blood as he released my hair and grasped my hips, pressing me tightly against him. I whimpered and scraped my nails down his back, just to see what he’d do. He growled, for starters, then deepened our kiss. Our tongues touched, and in a matter of seconds, I was drowning, aching to be nearer.

  As if sensing that desire, he lifted one of his legs and slid it between mine. “Bren,” I moaned, digging my nails into his skin as heat barrelled through me. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much—with someone, for someone. I couldn’t breathe under the building pressure. “Bren,” I said again, trembling as I struggled to speak. I was going to explode into a million stars. But I desperately needed to tell him. I needed so badly for him to know.

  I drew in a ragged breath and bared my heart. “I’m in love with you.”

  At first, nothing happened, like he was deaf to sound, lost in the feelings coursing through him. But then the muscles of his back tensed. My pulse raced as our labored breaths stretched between us, as all other movement stopped. His eyes remained firmly shut. Had he changed his mind? He’d looked so certain earlier today. The words had felt real. My face heated for a completely different reason now. Right when I decided to lock myself in the bathroom and never resurface, a tear slipped down his cheek.

  Before I could panic, before I could convince myself that I’d screwed everything up, he crushed me to him. I could barely breathe as his arms wrapped around my rib cage and held me tightly. A tremor went through him. Like he was breaking down. Like he was crying. I felt it then. Tears in my hair where his cheek was resting.

  What did I do? Did I break Brendan Bearon? I had meant to take away the pain, not heap on more. I didn’t know how to handle this sort of thing, so I blurted, “I’m sorry.”

  He huffed a quiet laugh, squeezing me tighter, if that were possible. “Never apologize for loving someone. It’s the greatest gift you can give them.”

  Gift. I liked the sound of that.

  It made me realize something. He said he’d stolen my freedom, but the gift of his love right now felt a whole lot like standing on top of a mountain, free of past horrors, free of future uncertainty. All I had to do was accept what he offered me freely.

  So I did. Without a drop of doubt or hesitation.

  The soft weeping that drew me from a deep, dreamless sleep was definitely not Bren’s. My hand swept over the mattress beside me, expecting to meet his warm body, but the space was empty. Cold. A frown tugged at my mouth, which turned into a lazy grin a second later as I imagined him re-entering my room with a cup of coffee. I could practically smell it now.

  A sniffle broke through my sleepy haze and my eyes popped open. As I suspected, I was alone in bed. So where was the crying coming from? I rolled over and blearily scanned the room. A curled-up figure was on my couch, too small to be Bren. Alarmed, I quickly rubbed my eyes and sat up. When Bells’ face came into focus, my shoulders relaxed, but my frown returned.

  “What’s wrong, Bells?” I disent
angled myself from the sheets and placed my feet on the floor. Was I not the comforting type? Because, once again, I had no idea what to say. The skin around her eyes was red and splotchy, her hair disheveled as if she’d run her fingers through it several dozen times. Fear slowly gripped me. Had someone died?

  Before my brain could form a multitude of terrible scenarios, she glanced up at me with the saddest expression I’d ever seen. “Bren’s gone.”

  My heart stopped.

  A fist must have wrung the air from my lungs because I could no longer breathe. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The world paused, taking in my state of utter shock as if the moment warranted extra attention.

  Only one word played through my head.

  How, how, how, how, how?

  I had been with him all night. It was barely morning. What could have happened in such a short amount of time?

  “Sorry,” Bells moaned, clutching at her head like she had a migraine. “He does this every time and it never gets easier. Just . . . just check your handheld, Lune.”

  The pain in my chest almost made movement impossible. When I stood on shaky legs, the room tilted. I slumped against the wall, forcing myself to inhale, just enough to make the black spots go away. Passing out wasn’t an option. I needed answers. Now. I found my handheld on the table where I’d left it the night before, but next to it was a coiled object. Brown. Leather?

  My trembling fingers picked it up. A necklace. And attached to the end . . .

  A bear’s tooth.

  I gasped and dropped it as image after image assaulted me. My eyes weren’t able to stay open as memories poured to the front of my mind, memories of a younger Bren, memories of the moment he gave me this necklace, memories of never taking it off no matter how many times I’d wanted to. And somehow, after everything, here it was. Bren was giving it to me again. But why?

  A moment later, I had my answer as I opened a message on my handheld. I struggled with some of the words, but after reading them, each one sank deep into my bones.

  “You told me once that the price of freedom was pain. You were right. I confess that I can endure your anger and hate, but not the pain that saying goodbye would bring. So please forgive me for leaving this way, but I’ve reached my pain threshold. We will see each other again, Lune Avery, I swear it. Stay safe. You have my heart. Always, Bren.”

  Oh, Bren. “What have you done?” I whispered brokenly, willing the handheld to reply. It did. Or rather, it buzzed. I checked the screen to see that I’d received a message from Dr. Stacey, asking me to meet her in Medical as soon as possible. Now what? My brain was about to explode.

  I remembered dressing and giving Bells a hug, at the last minute slipping on the bear tooth necklace, but everything else was fuzzy. Walking, the trip down the elevator, entering Medical—all done on autopilot. Belatedly, I realized I should have messaged Jaxon to escort me. Too late now. I could see Dr. Stacey heading my way. I would message him later.

  “Lune, thank you for coming so quickly,” she said, ushering me down the aisle toward the back of the long room. She stopped at the last partitioned-off space and gestured for me to sit on the bed. I did so mechanically, only faintly curious as to why I was here. “How are you holding up?”

  “Hmm?” I blinked up at her without expression.

  She gave me a sympathetic look. “Dr. Bradfield completed his memory blocker antidote just last evening,” she said gently, and I saw then that she held something in her hands. A needle. No, a syringe with yellow liquid. I noticed her fingers tremble slightly. Was she nervous about restoring my memories? Excited? “Bren wanted me to wait to give you this until after he’d left. I think he was afraid to face you once your memories were back. All of that animosity right before leaving for his mission would have been hard. This was easier, I hope you understand.”

  I nodded even though what she said didn’t sit right in my gut. When had Bren ever run away from a challenge? He just did, I reminded myself. When he failed to say goodbye. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. But with my memories back, maybe I could find some closure. Or at least answer a few of the questions currently swarming my brain. I took a calming breath and strengthened my voice before saying, “I’m ready.”

  I was given a mild sedative first since the injection site was to be the same place I’d received the chip from Renold. “For the best results, the serum needs to be injected close to your brain stem,” Dr. Stacey said almost apologetically. “You will feel a sharp pinch.”

  As the needle bit through my skin, several warnings slapped me. What if the serum made things worse? What if I was better off without my past memories of torture and imprisonment? What if I changed? The new me had adapted to this environment. Would the old me be able to do the same?

  Too late, too late, too late.

  My muscles locked as the syringe was compressed. Cold fluid rushed through my system. The needle retreated. I expected the old me to pop back into existence at any moment, but nothing happened. I glanced up at Dr. Stacey, shrugging when she asked if I felt any different.

  “The memories might come back gradually, not all at once. I’ll message Jaxon to escort you to your room. Expect some lightheadedness and disorientation for the next twenty-four hours.” She patted my arm, then said she needed to check on another patient, leaving me with my doubts and anticipation.

  Thoughts of Bren crowded in now that I was alone. Of the danger he was willingly walking into all because of a guilty conscience. I tried not to be mad, tried to focus on the message he had sent me, on the pain he must be feeling. On the love. But old resentment ate at my newfound happiness. He had left me. Again.

  I’m real. I’m right here, he whispered to me.

  “No, you’re not,” I said out loud, clenching my teeth.

  It’s going to be okay, little bird. Just wait and see.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as his voice amplified inside my head. As his words tore at my false calm. I can’t wait around, I shouted back at the ghost of him haunting me. I’ll go insane if I do. You can’t leave me like this. You can’t!

  My breaths came in gasps as voices assaulted me, voices from the past. Renold and Rose, Lars and Catanna, Asher and Iris, Ryker and Mum. I inhaled sharply. Ryker. Mum! I clutched at my head as the images came, vibrant and terrifying. They overloaded my senses, leaving me blind and weak. I curled into a ball on the bed before I could fall over from the weight of the memories pouring into my mind.

  Pain.

  Fear.

  Hate.

  Rage.

  My past was a swampland of misery.

  I knew that I was crying—the salt of my tears leaked into my mouth—but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop the memories from tearing at the solid ground beneath me, from ripping away the blindfold, from forcing me to see what I’d been missing.

  Where was Ryker?

  Where was my mum?

  What was Bren’s mission?

  My past collided with my present, forging a disjointed, conflicting future. My goals in life, my mission, had been erased. The old me didn’t want life inside The Ridge where decisions were made for me, where secrets and hidden agendas were just as plentiful as Tatum City. Would they ever let me leave? Or was I a prisoner, furthering their mysterious plans under the guise of helping others?

  The past me had wanted to stop Bren from completing his mission. Not to save him, but to save others from what I’d endured. And I’d failed. He was beyond my reach now. I had exchanged one prison for another. But the thing that hurt the most, the thing that dug into my chest and twisted my heart to shreds was that I loved him.

  Even with the old me and new combined, stars above, I loved that insufferable idiot to the point of obsession, and it scared the crap out of me. A part of me hated myself for it, thought me weak and pathetic. But I was stronger than that now. I knew my mind. My heart. Knew what I wanted. And I wanted him.

  After I sabotaged his mission, saved Iris, and found my mum.

&
nbsp; Piece of pie.

  Someone nudged my shoulder and I flinched, struggling to keep still when all I wanted was to hiss at the intruder. Now that my memories were filtering in, I remembered how reactive I could be. How I would lash out, then apologize later if they hadn’t meant me harm. Years of conditioning were hard to break, but I forced my fingers to loosen one at a time, quickly wiping away tears before facing Jaxon.

  But it wasn’t hazel brown eyes I saw. Instead, intense blue and black ones peered down at me as if questioning my sanity.

  I hiccupped in surprise. “Ryker.”

  “What are you doing?” he whispered in reply, scanning my prostrate form. “Are you injured?”

  And suddenly, it was as if the last two months had never happened. I shoved aside my tangled memories and focused solely on the man who was supposed to be dead. Ignoring his questions, I whisper-yelled, “Where have you been?”

  He scowled. “Rotting in a cell, that’s where.” He thrust a backpack at me. “We have a short window of escape. Come on, let’s go.”

  “What?” I squeaked, attempting to sit up. They had locked him away? And didn’t bother telling me?

  “Quiet,” he growled softly, then grabbed my arm without warning and hauled me off the bed. My knees immediately buckled as the room rotated nauseatingly. Ryker caught me before I hit the floor, uttering a curse. “What did they do to you?”

  My forehead dropped to his chest as I fought to keep my stomach where it belonged. “They gave me,” I panted, “my memories back. I was . . . sort of . . . sedated.”

  He swore impressively, then slung my arm over his shoulders, bearing most of my weight. “Escape first. Explain later.”

  I was in no shape to push him away, but did I even want to? He wanted out and so did I. After that, I’d have to improvise until the rest of my memories returned. I couldn’t remember our final moments together before I’d woken up inside The Ridge. Only that he should have died from his wounds. Had this all been a setup? Was Ryker in on it? Was Bren? I didn’t know who I could trust at the moment, which made me drag my feet as we slipped through Medical’s rear exit.