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

  He leaned against the doorframe. “What I had to. You were going to jeopardize the mission by sneaking off without me, so I followed Renold’s orders.”

  I barked a laugh. “Orders? Orders? And what, pray tell, are these orders? Because Bren has an even greater lead now and my orders are to find him, not pander to your trust problems—” I cut off my tirade as he stalked toward me with the gun. My limbs shook at his menacing expression, one that had warned me again and again not to get in the way.

  And here we were, me at his mercy as he took my measure and found me no doubt annoying and more trouble than I was worth. This was it. The end of my existence. I consoled myself with the thought that I had stepped into the outside world one last time. But that meant I couldn’t save Iris. My eyes started to burn and I squeezed them shut. Ryker wouldn’t see me cry. Or beg. Never that. I waited for cold metal to touch my skin. Waited for that thumb to flick off the safety.

  Waited.

  “What are you doing?”

  I squinted an eye open. He was hovering over me like a hulking shadow, but the gun was gone. My gaze jumped to his. Was he going to strangle me with his bare hands then? Maybe he found me so annoying that killing me so intimately would give him lasting peace.

  “Did you think my orders were to kill you?” he asked, his voice a touch less gravelly.

  “Uh.” Should I answer that? “Since you always look ready to kill me, yes, yes I did.”

  His face didn’t change, but he tensed. So tense that I wondered if he was still breathing. Then, “My orders are to keep you alive. I told you that before. I don’t have time to chase after you and Bren, so I was given permission to zap you if you strayed from the mission.”

  I ground my teeth together as I struggled with my need to spew sarcasm. “How does it work?”

  “What?”

  “The electrocution!” I shouted. So much for keeping calm. “You didn’t touch me or point a volt gun at me. How does it work?”

  “Keep your voice down,” he snapped. I continued to glare at him silently. A moment later, his brows pulled together. “You don’t know about the implant?”

  Implant? I dug my nails into my palms. Wake up. Wake up! You have to be dreaming! I inhaled slowly. “What are you talking about?”

  His expression morphed into shadow as he looked at the floor. “You, me, and Bren. We have chips lodged in the back of our necks. Practically fused to the bone, actually. They’re insurance so we’ll come back to the city when we’ve completed our missions. If we don’t, the chips are installed with a kill switch. Your father wanted me to use the electricity on you as a warning. To remind you of your duties in case you were thinking of running away.”

  I gaped, completely struck mute.

  Stars. There was no end to this madness. No escape. I was a ticking time bomb and Renold the detonator.

  “Untie me,” I demanded softly. My stomach lurched and I grimaced as a rush of saliva filled my mouth. “Untie me!”

  Ryker’s eyes were locked on mine now, boring holes into my retinas as he gauged my sanity—and probably wondered whether I’d make a break for it despite what he’d just said. But he slowly leaned over me and unstrapped one of my wrists, then the other. I was off the bed in a flash, staggering for a dim corner as my gorge rose. A dry heave left me. Another and another as my body trembled and swayed. I placed a hand on the wall as my knees threatened to buckle.

  When had Renold implanted a chip in my neck? It was too awful to think about, but I racked my memory anyway. I thought back to all the times I’d met with him in the big house’s eerie sub-basement. Recalled every single torture device he’d used on my body—whips, electric rods, needles.

  Needles!

  Jabbed into my neck with such force, I’d almost passed out on more than one occasion. But there was that time, a couple months before I contended in the Trials, when a particular needle had felt close to hitting bone. It had left my neck sore and bruised for days afterward. I stopped breathing.

  Stars above.

  “The trouble is, I don’t know if I can trust you,” he’d said to me all those months ago. My heart hammered. Had he known? Had he foreseen this outcome? Had he . . . planned for it? Insurance. He had assured my loyalty by stripping away my choice. Either I did what he asked or he would kill me.

  The discolored wall before me blurred.

  “We don’t have time for this.” Ryker’s sharp voice snapped me back to the present. “We’ve lost several more hours, thanks to your inability to follow simple instructions. You have ten minutes to pull yourself together and meet me outside. The bathroom’s through there. It has running water.”

  I turned in time to see Ryker gesturing at a closed door across the room. Then he was gone, taking that ugly black gun with him. Through a clenched jaw, I hissed. Good riddance. After grabbing my backpack and a small electric lantern next to the bed, I stalked to the room’s closed door and ripped it open. Sure enough, a dingy sink and toilet greeted me. There was even a mirror. I glanced at my foggy reflection.

  Ugh. My dark auburn hair—almost black in the weak lighting—stuck out in a hundred different directions, having long since escaped the confines of its single braid. My pale skin was smudged with dirt, probably from running my hands along those grimy metal shelves. I finally looked at my eyes. Her eyes. My mum’s. And now, they reminded me of Iris’s, too.

  My chest began to ache and I quickly shoved aside images of their haunting faces. I had a mission. Thinking about either of them right now would do me no good. I got to work cleaning myself up as best I could. The sink water ran brown for a full two minutes. While I applied a fresh bandage to the cut on my neck, a small, niggling voice whispered in my head, Do you miss Tatum City yet? The comforts of hot water, a warm bed, and food. Familiar dangers that you know how to avoid. Turn back.

  I shook my head.

  Turn back.

  “No,” I whispered, snapping the first aid kit shut.

  This mission will be the death of you, Lune Avery. You don’t know a thing about surviving the outside world, the voice, born of my fears and self-doubts, insisted.

  “I don’t care,” I hissed, even as my stomach twisted. “I’m not going back. Not until I complete this mission.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  I squeaked and whirled at the same time. Ryker stood just shy of the doorway, cautiously peering into the bathroom as if expecting to find an intruder. I glared at him, hoping he hadn’t heard the pathetic noise I’d made. “I’m not talking to anyone. Are you hearing things? If your sanity is slipping, it’s probably not safe for you to be out here. Maybe you should go back to Tatum City.”

  He straightened. His upper lip curled, revealing clenched teeth. “Nice try. But you’ll have to do a lot better than that. Time’s up, we’re moving out.” When he didn’t retreat—just stared at me like a creep—I huffed and gathered my supplies. It was then, as I found my boots at the foot of the bed and started putting them on, that Ryker’s actions fully hit me.

  I yanked up my pant leg and, sure enough, the cut Skerrvy had given me was bandaged. My spine went rigid and I jerked around to face him. “You knock me out, half undress me, then touch my body while I’m lying unconscious?” Blood roared in my ears as I approached him. He had no right. No right. I stopped near enough that I could have easily rammed a knee into his groin. Somehow, I managed to keep both feet planted on the floor. “This won’t happen again. You do not have permission to touch me, no matter the circumstances.”

  His watchful eyes took in my close proximity with cool detachment. Maybe he didn’t care about his manly jewels. “Two things: don’t exaggerate and don’t tell me what to do. You may have the superior title but ‘Elite Guardian’ means nothing out here. Your ability to survive is the only thing that matters from this point forward. Besides, your puny little self should be grateful that I cleaned out an incredibly dirty cut and kept you from frostbite.”

  “Grateful?” I snarled, fisting m
y hands. “Puny? Who do you think you are, bossing me around? What gives you the right?”

  Something dangerous glinted in those eerie eyes. “I am your Keeper, so I have every right. That is my title—my duty and mission. That’s why I’m out here, my tracking and survival experience aside. But here’s the thing, Princess. I don’t want to be out here. So go ahead. Keep complaining, keep running, keep slowing us down. Fail your mission. The sooner you do, the sooner we can go back.”

  A weight pressed down on my lungs, robbing me of air. A thousand biting words wanted to spit from my mouth, but in the end, all I could manage was a low whisper laced in warning. “Don’t call me princess. Ever.”

  He leaned forward into my personal space. “Be a good girl and I’ll think about it.” In the next blink, he was halfway across the room. Right before exiting, he threw over his shoulder, “I’m graciously giving you an extra two minutes, then I’m leaving, with or without you. You’ll regret it if it’s the latter.”

  For a full minute, I stared at the spot he’d vacated. My thoughts whirled. Digested all that he’d said. We weren’t just two hotheads unwittingly thrown together anymore. No. This was more than that. So much more. This was personal.

  And before this mission was over, I really was going to kill him.

  It was only midday on the second day of our mission when everything screeched to a halt.

  “What is it?” I asked a crouched Ryker. He was staring at a twin set of strange markings in the snow that were several inches wide. The curious bumpy pattern stretched along the northeastern road up a hill and out of sight.

  He swore softly. “Our target’s not on foot anymore.”

  A flutter of panic churned in my stomach. “So what is Bren traveling on then?”

  He shoved to his feet and followed the markings down the hill, not up. I didn’t question him despite my burning curiosity. He was the tracker, not me. About a dozen yards off the road, hidden by trees and bushes, was a windowless wooden shed. Locked. Large boot prints trod the snow around the weathered structure. Bren’s, I guessed. “Some kind of ATV,” Ryker muttered, fiddling with the lock.

  “Is that a mutated beast?”

  He dropped the lock and glanced at me with an unreadable expression. “I forgot how painfully ignorant you insiders are.”

  He went on to explain what an all-terrain vehicle was but I didn’t hear him—the blood pounding in my ears drowned the words out. “You know nothing,” I hissed.

  Ryker stopped. His brows inched upward. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, that’s so. You spout the importance of details yet you think I’m an insider. Maybe I don’t know anything about this contraption Bren has found, but I’m far from ignorant. I’m not like them.” I was saying too much. I’d been doing that a lot the last few months and doing so had only heaped trouble on my head. But I was sick of the silence. Sick of the lies. Sick of people thinking I was a Tatum City Elite.

  I expected him to sneer and stalk off. Instead, he crossed his arms and began speaking again, the tone of his voice almost smug. “I know you were born on the outside. I know you were kidnapped. I know you have unique abilities. I also know the Supreme Elite physically beats you. I know that you fear him more than you fear the mutated beasts that roam the land.”

  Every single word was a blow to my chest. I staggered back, struggling for air. How? How? He knew everything. My eyes widened. Stars above, did he know Iris was my sister, too?

  His mouth tipped cruelly. “As I said, I’m your Keeper. And you’re an ignorant insider because you are completely oblivious to the world around you and what is happening in it. You think the Elite Trials mattered?” He scoffed. “I failed the Rasa Rowe Trial, thanks to you, and that is why I’m out here babysitting. In the larger scheme of things, the Trials are simply a test of your abilities. Now get off your high horse, Princess. You’re exactly like them.”

  I was being cracked wide open. My life, the deepest, darkest parts of me, were on full display. And he mocked me. Shamed me. Even blamed me. A hot ball of fury lodged in my throat. I envisioned two onyx horns sprouting from his skull, his eyes bleeding black. Ryker was the devil. Any moment now, he would throw back his head and boom with laughter. I was a bug beneath his boot, and with great pleasure, he squashed my body, splattering my innards and dissecting my limbs.

  With a roar, I charged him. I aimed for his legs, but he wasn’t as tall as Bren—more compact, muscular—and didn’t tip over backward. He latched onto my backpack and flung me off him. I bounced off the shed but was already whirling with a throwing knife, my sights set on his heart. Then I froze.

  The barrel of a gun was aimed at my head.

  “Go ahead. Throw the knife. It’ll be the last thing you do.” His voice was deathly soft. The gun clicked.

  I didn’t lower my arm. “What will Renold do if you kill me? I might be ignorant but I get the impression that I’m needed. If you fail your mission, what are the consequences, huh?”

  That deadly black weapon trembled ever so slightly. Got you.

  “We can’t kill each other,” he bit out. “If we do, we’ll be stripped of our titles. All deals will be forfeit. We’ll spend the rest of our days rotting in a jail cell. Or worse.”

  Neither of us moved. We carefully took each other’s measure. Would I really throw the knife? Would he really pull the trigger? Or were we bluffing? I wasn’t entirely sure on either count. All I knew was that he had thoroughly wedged himself beneath my skin and I desired nothing more than to gouge him out.

  “We’ll never survive out here if we’re constantly at each other’s throats,” I began. “Let’s call a truce, at least until we find Bren.”

  The gun wavered some more, then vanished as he tucked it out of sight. “Truce.”

  That’s all he said before turning on his heel and stalking back toward the road. I sheathed my knife and trudged after him. I didn’t know what his plan was now that Bren had an ever bigger lead, and I didn’t ask. The questions could wait. My gut told me that if I opened my mouth anytime soon, he would only further insult me. And my exposed heart couldn’t handle anymore at the moment.

  Why did he know so much about me? A sick feeling slithered in my stomach. Was he watching me? Stalking me? I was following him into the wilderness, alone and far from civilization. And not only did he have a gun but the ability to electrocute me on a whim. I touched the smooth skin at the base of my neck, probing, searching for a lump. Nothing. Nothing at all. Whatever had been injected in me was beyond my reach.

  With Ryker several strides ahead, I allowed a handful of tears to trickle down my face, then silently brushed all evidence of my misery away.

  “Keep up!”

  I clenched my teeth for the umpteenth time. He was the bossiest person I’d ever met. “Barking won’t get me to move any faster. You do realize I’m carrying a heavy backpack, right?”

  “Pretend I’m Elite Instructor Drake then.”

  My eyes narrowed on the back of Ryker’s head, and I caught a glimpse of his black tattoo before it slipped beneath his coat. I squinted some more. “Nope. Not working. Your swagger is all wrong. Too preening.”

  He sighed his irritation, then jabbed a finger at the sky. “You see that?”

  My gaze swept upward. “Yes. It’s gray and boring. Thanks for the sightseeing tour.”

  The sound of him growling under his breath made me smirk. How does it feel to have me underneath your skin? Annoying? Good. After a few more steps, he replied, “The weather is about to worsen. By nightfall, it’ll be snowing again, harder this time. The tracks will be buried.”

  Oh. I picked up the pace without comment.

  Sure enough, the first snowflake splattered on my cheek an hour later. Surrounded as we were by oak and pine trees with no buildings in sight, worry squirmed in my gut. The temperature would plummet soon and my toes were already chilled to the bone, along with my fingers, despite the woolen socks and gloves I wore. I doubted Ryker had another safe house stas
hed away out here somewhere.

  Or did he? I didn’t know a thing about him, I realized, which made the worry in my gut writhe. He was right about one thing: I should have spent more time studying my enemies. Instead, I had allowed Bren to distract me, to dominate my waking and sleeping hours. To wrap himself around my heart. And now . . .

  And now I was weak. My lips pursed. I wouldn’t let my guard down again. The cracks in my heart couldn’t be healed, but I could fill them in with steel. I imagined the hot molten element settling into the vulnerable dips and valleys, swallowing them whole, drowning out the pain and suffering. Leaving the organ stronger. Harder. Impenetrable.

  Bren wouldn’t get in again. He couldn’t be trusted. A heart shouldn’t be given to an untrustworthy person. The more distance I created between us, the more I could face my upcoming mission, whatever that entailed.

  But could I really kill him? I might be able to remove him from my heart, but the thought of Brendan Bearon removed from this world sent a pulsing ache through my chest.

  Ryker suddenly broke into a steady jog.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled, launching after him. I wouldn’t be able to maintain this pace for long. I wasn’t used to this form of exercise.

  He angled his head so I could better hear him over our pounding feet and shuffling gear. “We need to cover as much ground as possible before the tracks completely disappear. We can rest later.” With that, he jogged faster.

  In a matter of minutes, gusts of cold air heaved in and out of my lungs. I couldn’t control the wheezing noise that left my mouth between breaths. But I wouldn’t stop. Ryker was the key back to my sister, and I wouldn’t give him an excuse to call me puny again. Soon, though, I fell behind. He was but a blurry speck on top of the hill. Another hill. I glanced behind me, belatedly realizing why this trek was wearing me down so fast. We were climbing. As in up-a-mountain climbing.

  Ryker dropped out of view as he crested the hill, and that’s when it happened. My boot caught on something hidden. I pitched forward, nosediving into the snow. Stunned, I laid there for several seconds. Icy wetness trickled down my neck and bit at my cheeks. Still, I didn’t move.