Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“Restrain. Him.” He glared at the soldiers, and they resumed their fight against Miller.
“I’m cured,” the potential Soalian snarled after the pair trapped his arms behind his back. “That’s the truth, straight up.”
I didn’t know why I comprehended the difference between his use of cured and CURED, but I did.
Maybe the other soldiers did as well. They showed him no mercy as they bound him to the wooden rack.
“Let’s start with the easiest part. Deny your loyalty to Soal.” Roman moved in front of him and crossed his arms. “Say ‘I despise the Rock.’”
Even hearing those words, I cringed inside. The thought of uttering them hurt me in ways I hadn’t expected.
“Will you believe anything I say?” Miller snarled, struggling without success for freedom.
“No.” Roman motioned to a trainee, who turned the crank on the rack, pulling on Miller’s limbs. “But I still want to hear you say it.”
Miller spit on him.
Roman wiped away the spittle, casually stating, “Who’s helping you?”
Miller was too busy panting and groaning to speak.
“Are you so far gone with bloodlust, you can’t grasp the incongruity of your words?” I straightened, my hand on the hilt of my netter. “You won’t believe anything Miller says, but you’ll still torture anyone he names?”
“Unless you want us to believe you’re a conspirator, shut up.” Roman pointed at the trainees. “I can’t be the only one he’s tried to recruit. Maybe he succeeded with one of you. Just tell me who accepted, Mills, and the pain stops.”
Okay, I had a decision to make. Take him down, possibly dying in the process, or let the madness continue.
As if there was anything to consider. Still. I tried one more time to reach him. “Miller is our friend, Roman.”
He offered me a fleeting smile. “That’s your problem, Ardie. You see the best in people who will turn on you at the first opportunity. You failed to realize I’m not anyone’s friend. I can’t be. I see you all for what you are. Ticking bombs.”
More nods of agreement from our spectators, and I had no words to refute him.
He pointed to our bound teammate. “You have ten seconds, Miller. Then the real hurt begins.”
Very well. I had a new goal—take Roman down. With eight nets, I could hobble him and his staunchest supporters. Maybe the rest of my challengers would back off. If not, I also had Winslet’s knife.
Excellent. I now had a plan. Let’s do it.
As swift as I was able, I unsheathed the gun, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. Click, click.
I scrambled to check the clip, and my heart sank. No ammunition. I’d just assumed it was loaded . . . A fatal mistake I hadn’t factored into my equation.
Maybe Roman noted my actions. Maybe he assumed I’d aimed at someone behind him, thinking to protect him. Either way, the attempt to use my weapon drew the notice of others and acted as a starting bell.
“She’s Soalian!” someone screeched.
Ding, ding, ding. Chaos erupted all around, no one immune. Boom! Whoosh! Click! Grunts, groans, moans. Battle sounds blended, creating a discordant chorus. Arrows soared at me, quick reflexes yanking me out of harm’s path at the last second, ensuring none of the missiles landed. Not in me, at least. Winslet, however, took an arrow to the leg and cried out, agonized.
Soldiers toppled throughout the room. Miller struggled to gain his freedom with all his might to no avail. I removed a lace from my boot and used it as a tourniquet on Winslet’s leg, then leaped to my feet to cut at Miller’s bonds. I didn’t care if it painted a target on my back. We were past that.
One wrist freed.
Roman ran out of bullets and kicked a soldier in the face, sending his limp body flopping to the floor. He turned, ready to take on his next opponent. Spying my efforts to aid the prisoner, he confiscated a sword and marched toward me, felling another cadet along the way. Arcs of blood sprayed over a wall, triggering something. A holographic movie played in vivid color, snagging my attention. Roman got busy with someone else, seeming to forget me.
In the feed, Mykal occupied a small, windowless cell, banging her head against a wall. Crimson streaked her brow and leaked from her ears.
A whimper lodged in my throat. Was this happening in real time? Or recorded in the past?
The setting changed, revealing Victors strapped to a bed, fully awake as a man in a white apron cracked open his ribs. He screamed until hoarse and bucked against his bonds.
Suddenly I had a view of his still-beating, glowing heart. I gasped and pressed a hand over my mouth. This was the past. What had happened in captivity.
The monster working on Victors sliced into that heart and extracted a perfect, glowing stone. With a final scream, the Soalian sagged against the gurney and sank into unconsciousness.