Ouch. “But you make girls hope for forever, even though you know there’s no chance you’ll offer it.”
“Just because I haven’t offered it doesn’t mean I won’t sometime in the future. I’ll give the right girl everything.”
I fight a wave of intense longing. I would love to be the right girl. But only if he’s the right boy for me.
Am I? Is he?
“Why did Myriad want Miss Cashier so badly that they sent you, a precious resource? Why did they leave her to a life of drudgery inside a fast-food restaurant after she signed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Surely you can guess. You’ve lived in the realm your entire life, were favored by the King. You know their ways even when they refuse to explain their reasons.”
He works his jaw. “Troika sent a Leader to her, rather than a Laborer, telling us she was singular to them. She turned him down. I swooped in and ensured the realm couldn’t have her. And she doesn’t need an exceptional Firstlife to do what we need her to do in the Everlife.”
This. This is the boy who first arrived at Prynne. I don’t like him. “What do you need her to do?”
“Join our army. Fight for us. Help win the war. But more important, stop her from doing whatever it was Troika wanted her to do.”
How cold. “She didn’t strike me as a soldier.”
“But she is a voice. One whisper into the ear of another can spark another whisper and another whisper, until the noise is deafening.”
“A numbers game,” I say, lamenting the irony yet again. “Why are people like my dad given so much?”
“Some people—most people—accept our first offer. But others, those who have something we covet, are given preferential treatment. Your father’s contract came with very few benefits. It wasn’t until you were born that he was offered a new, better deal.”
“A deal that turned a child into a commodity.” My bitterness is showing.
“That reminds me,” he says. “Eighteen years ago, Madame had a daughter, Ashley. A girl who’d been Fused and reborn multiple times already. She was the youngest General at the time, and she’d always wanted a brother. I was irresistible, which is why I was chosen. But she died soon after, and I was returned to the Center.”
My heart hurts for him. How much loss has this boy known?
“You’re feeling sorry for me again, aren’t you?” There’s no upset in his tone, only intrigue.
“Well, you were just a little boy, and you were abandoned. I wish you’d had better.”
He reaches over, takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth. As he kisses my knuckles, a tingling warmth mists over me. “Anyway,” he says after he clears his throat. “I recently discovered Madame thinks you are bonded with Ashley.”
Oh, wow. Madame Bennett’s personal stake in me makes even more sense. “That’s kind of creepy. I mean, how many times have you made a pass at me?”
“I said she believes you’re bonded with Ashley. I don’t. I’m certain you’re bonded with one of the other slain Generals.”
“So, how many Generals are there at a given time?”
“Ten.”
“What?”
“Ten.”
“What?” I repeat.
He rolls his eyes. “Ten Generals at a time.”
Ah. I snort.
“Now eat,” he says. “Keep your strength up.”
“Sure thing...bro.”
He glowers at me. “That’s not funny.”
“It kind of is.”
He glowers at me again, but a moment later his eyes go wide. There’s flash of light. As I turn, Killian shouts, “Brace—”
Boom!
I’m thrown toward him before I’m thrown in the other direction, only my belt keeping me in my seat. My skull slams against my window, breaking the glass. Pain explodes through my head as different bones shatter. My vision goes dark, my mind an ocean of panic, vibrations from impact causing ripples of misery as I’m tossed upside down again and again until finally landing that way, basically hanging from my belt.
Wake up, Ten. Now!
The words scream through my aching head, the English accent familiar. Archer’s back? I blink open my eyes. My vision is no longer black but it’s still hazed...until I use a shaky hand to wipe away the blood. No sign of Archer.
Grab the semiautomatic in the console. Turn the safety off, aim and squeeze the trigger.
Irish accent that time. “Killian?” I look, but he’s not here, either. However, bits of ash are floating through the car.
Ten! The gun!
Killian’s voice again, though his Shell is gone. What happened to the car? To him?
A wreck, I realize as I stare at my crumpled door. We were in a wreck, and he decommissioned his Shell in order to survive and help me.
Two men are up there and both are armed. Take the gun, lass. Leave the car. In it, you’re the perfect target.
Danger. Right. I struggle with my belt, but finally manage to unlatch it. I topple and slam into the roof. My shaking intensifies as I pry open the console. A gun falls out, and I swipe it up, careful to keep the barrel aimed anywhere but at me. Cool air blows through the opening where the window used to be, and I crawl through.
Catching my breath seems impossible as I trip forward and catalog my new surroundings—the vehicle has been thrown off the road and into a ravine. In the distance, there’s a hill populated with a thick spread of trees. Along the road, shadows are chased away by a car’s headlights.
Go!
A command from Archer.
My legs weigh a thousand pounds as I pick up the pace. A car door slams shut, then another. Footsteps sound.
Faster! Killian demands.
I don’t want to leave you, but I must, Archer says. Only for a few minutes. I’m returning to Troika to get a Shell and backup. All you have to do is stay alive. Killian—
I won’t let her be harmed.
They both sound agonized.
Are the men chasing me Shells? Or human? Does it really matter? Whatever they are, they hope to kill me. And they just might. The odds aren’t in my favor. I’m injured, leaving a blood trail, while they’re uninjured. I don’t know the terrain. They might.
Running won’t do me any good. Might even speed up my death. I have to strike now, while I’m still on my feet.
I stop and turn. A wave of dizziness sweeps through me—nothing new, focus—as I drop to my stomach. Perfect timing. Pop! Pop! Shots fired, a silencer used. I zero in on the direction the men came from and see a shadow headed straight for me. I take aim.
A little to the left, lass. Killian. He’s still with me.
I take comfort from the knowledge as I adjust my aim.
Now!
I squeeze the trigger.
The loud boom causes my ears to ring, and the gun’s recoil causes my wrists and shoulders to vibrate. The shadow collapses.
Good girl.
One down. One to go. But where—
The cock of someone else’s gun tells me one thing: I don’t have time to fire off another shot of my own. Not knowing what else to do, I roll to the side as fast as I can. Pop! Pop! A sharp sting in my side makes me hiss. Inhaling deeply, I aim and squeeze the trigger of my gun. My assailant hisses this time, but he merely stumbles back without going down.
“Just because I haven’t offered it doesn’t mean I won’t sometime in the future. I’ll give the right girl everything.”
I fight a wave of intense longing. I would love to be the right girl. But only if he’s the right boy for me.
Am I? Is he?
“Why did Myriad want Miss Cashier so badly that they sent you, a precious resource? Why did they leave her to a life of drudgery inside a fast-food restaurant after she signed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Surely you can guess. You’ve lived in the realm your entire life, were favored by the King. You know their ways even when they refuse to explain their reasons.”
He works his jaw. “Troika sent a Leader to her, rather than a Laborer, telling us she was singular to them. She turned him down. I swooped in and ensured the realm couldn’t have her. And she doesn’t need an exceptional Firstlife to do what we need her to do in the Everlife.”
This. This is the boy who first arrived at Prynne. I don’t like him. “What do you need her to do?”
“Join our army. Fight for us. Help win the war. But more important, stop her from doing whatever it was Troika wanted her to do.”
How cold. “She didn’t strike me as a soldier.”
“But she is a voice. One whisper into the ear of another can spark another whisper and another whisper, until the noise is deafening.”
“A numbers game,” I say, lamenting the irony yet again. “Why are people like my dad given so much?”
“Some people—most people—accept our first offer. But others, those who have something we covet, are given preferential treatment. Your father’s contract came with very few benefits. It wasn’t until you were born that he was offered a new, better deal.”
“A deal that turned a child into a commodity.” My bitterness is showing.
“That reminds me,” he says. “Eighteen years ago, Madame had a daughter, Ashley. A girl who’d been Fused and reborn multiple times already. She was the youngest General at the time, and she’d always wanted a brother. I was irresistible, which is why I was chosen. But she died soon after, and I was returned to the Center.”
My heart hurts for him. How much loss has this boy known?
“You’re feeling sorry for me again, aren’t you?” There’s no upset in his tone, only intrigue.
“Well, you were just a little boy, and you were abandoned. I wish you’d had better.”
He reaches over, takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth. As he kisses my knuckles, a tingling warmth mists over me. “Anyway,” he says after he clears his throat. “I recently discovered Madame thinks you are bonded with Ashley.”
Oh, wow. Madame Bennett’s personal stake in me makes even more sense. “That’s kind of creepy. I mean, how many times have you made a pass at me?”
“I said she believes you’re bonded with Ashley. I don’t. I’m certain you’re bonded with one of the other slain Generals.”
“So, how many Generals are there at a given time?”
“Ten.”
“What?”
“Ten.”
“What?” I repeat.
He rolls his eyes. “Ten Generals at a time.”
Ah. I snort.
“Now eat,” he says. “Keep your strength up.”
“Sure thing...bro.”
He glowers at me. “That’s not funny.”
“It kind of is.”
He glowers at me again, but a moment later his eyes go wide. There’s flash of light. As I turn, Killian shouts, “Brace—”
Boom!
I’m thrown toward him before I’m thrown in the other direction, only my belt keeping me in my seat. My skull slams against my window, breaking the glass. Pain explodes through my head as different bones shatter. My vision goes dark, my mind an ocean of panic, vibrations from impact causing ripples of misery as I’m tossed upside down again and again until finally landing that way, basically hanging from my belt.
Wake up, Ten. Now!
The words scream through my aching head, the English accent familiar. Archer’s back? I blink open my eyes. My vision is no longer black but it’s still hazed...until I use a shaky hand to wipe away the blood. No sign of Archer.
Grab the semiautomatic in the console. Turn the safety off, aim and squeeze the trigger.
Irish accent that time. “Killian?” I look, but he’s not here, either. However, bits of ash are floating through the car.
Ten! The gun!
Killian’s voice again, though his Shell is gone. What happened to the car? To him?
A wreck, I realize as I stare at my crumpled door. We were in a wreck, and he decommissioned his Shell in order to survive and help me.
Two men are up there and both are armed. Take the gun, lass. Leave the car. In it, you’re the perfect target.
Danger. Right. I struggle with my belt, but finally manage to unlatch it. I topple and slam into the roof. My shaking intensifies as I pry open the console. A gun falls out, and I swipe it up, careful to keep the barrel aimed anywhere but at me. Cool air blows through the opening where the window used to be, and I crawl through.
Catching my breath seems impossible as I trip forward and catalog my new surroundings—the vehicle has been thrown off the road and into a ravine. In the distance, there’s a hill populated with a thick spread of trees. Along the road, shadows are chased away by a car’s headlights.
Go!
A command from Archer.
My legs weigh a thousand pounds as I pick up the pace. A car door slams shut, then another. Footsteps sound.
Faster! Killian demands.
I don’t want to leave you, but I must, Archer says. Only for a few minutes. I’m returning to Troika to get a Shell and backup. All you have to do is stay alive. Killian—
I won’t let her be harmed.
They both sound agonized.
Are the men chasing me Shells? Or human? Does it really matter? Whatever they are, they hope to kill me. And they just might. The odds aren’t in my favor. I’m injured, leaving a blood trail, while they’re uninjured. I don’t know the terrain. They might.
Running won’t do me any good. Might even speed up my death. I have to strike now, while I’m still on my feet.
I stop and turn. A wave of dizziness sweeps through me—nothing new, focus—as I drop to my stomach. Perfect timing. Pop! Pop! Shots fired, a silencer used. I zero in on the direction the men came from and see a shadow headed straight for me. I take aim.
A little to the left, lass. Killian. He’s still with me.
I take comfort from the knowledge as I adjust my aim.
Now!
I squeeze the trigger.
The loud boom causes my ears to ring, and the gun’s recoil causes my wrists and shoulders to vibrate. The shadow collapses.
Good girl.
One down. One to go. But where—
The cock of someone else’s gun tells me one thing: I don’t have time to fire off another shot of my own. Not knowing what else to do, I roll to the side as fast as I can. Pop! Pop! A sharp sting in my side makes me hiss. Inhaling deeply, I aim and squeeze the trigger of my gun. My assailant hisses this time, but he merely stumbles back without going down.
