Page 19

Aubrey

“ I’m sorry about this, Modumo.” Those were the only words Lieutenant Yarr said to me this morning. He then escorted me, and about ten other Cursed, to Training Ground Five, a vast indoor facility I’d only been in a couple of times before.

Our instructions, given by a man in a lab coat, were to sit on the bleachers and await further instructions.

Some of the expressions displayed on the other Cursed’s faces are fearful, some are confused, others resigned. I’d like to think I’m still the stoic man I was yesterday, but the discomfort of fear grows in my chest, and I’m sure it can be seen in my eyes.

The building’s interior reminds me of the gymnasium at my old elementary school: Bleachers covering two of the four walls, the floor between so polished, people’s shoes squeak when they cross it. The lighting is dim, and it’s difficult to see in the corners, but I feel people there. Their eyes watching.

At the center of the floor is a raised platform. Some of the soldiers wheel in an array of objects and set them up on either side of the stage, and I know that my fear is warranted.

I’m here to be sold.

They want to take me from my friends. From...Miranda.

The beautiful woman had stolen my heart before I realized it. Now all I can do is sit here, waiting to find out where I will be sent to die, wondering why I’d bothered to keep away from Miranda. Why I’d denied the pack I know to be mine.

Why did I try so hard to get them to hate me if I’m just going to be sent to my death on some battlefield far away? I could have been happy, if just for a little while.

There’s movement inside my chest, restless and angry, a growl forming that I force into silence.

These people can’t know how I feel. I have to remain indifferent. Go along with the motions. And then…

...What?

And then I’ll get sold off to the highest bidder and sent to whichever territory they hail from.

And then, maybe one day, I’ll see them again. Colt. Rai. Miranda.

Maybe I’ll get to embrace them before we kill one another in the name of a war we should have no part in.

For hours, we sit there in silence before a name is called, far louder than necessary.

“ Burr, Jason.”

The soldier who shouts his name is no one I’ve ever seen before, his stoic demeanor not abnormal for one of the GBE.

Jason, a guy who came to the academy a couple of years after I arrived, makes his way down the bleachers on stiff and shaking legs, his pale eyes wide, brown hair a nest of curls atop his head, making him look far younger than he must be. His frame is small, and if he has any muscle on him, it’s hidden beneath oversized clothing.

“ Over here,” the soldier commands, gesturing to the side of the stage area where a few makeshift walls had been erected, each constructed of different materials, from drywall to solid metal.

Jason walks to the drywall frame and looks to the soldier for direction.

“ You’re to tell us what you see behind each obstruction. Go.”

The poor guy takes a huge gulp of air, then turns his back to face the first wall. In a weak voice I barely hear, he stutters through declarations like, “V-vase,” and “C-comp-puter.” He makes it to the solid metal wall and says, “N-nothing.”

“ Very good. Head to the platforming area and face this way.”

Jason does as instructed, and before he even makes it up the steps, a female Beta emerges from the shadows and stands at the base of the stage. Her designer skirt suit and molded glossy hair scream “I am important,” and I immediately loathe her despite never encountering her before.

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” she sings, “let us begin. This is a reconnaissance unit trained for stealth infiltration, hacking, and decryption. We’ll start the bidding at one hundred thousand.”

My brain barely processes the starting number before it’s doubled, then more than tripled, before the female shouts, “Sold! To the Republic of Arabia.”

There’s movement in the shadows, and I can just make out some hand-shaking and murmured congratulations.

If the RA is here bidding, that means everyone else in the building is an allied territory of theirs. A purchase by one territory is like an asset for them all. Until they’re no longer allies, anyway.

A soldier whom I rarely encountered but recognize as one of the academy guards leads a shell-shocked Jason from the stage and out of the building.

This little show goes on for eight more Cursed: demonstration, bidding, sale, escorted from the grounds. There are only two of us left when the soldier calls, “Modumo, Aubrey.”

I knew this was coming, and yet shock still courses through my body.

I hate it. I hate this.

Why is this happening now? Why couldn’t this have happened before she appeared in my life? It would be hard enough leaving Colt and Rai behind, but Miranda? I can’t...I just...can’t…

Not without being able to apologize for how I treated her.

When my mind clears, I’m standing by the soldier directing the auction, and I hadn’t even realized I’d moved a single muscle. The beast inside my chest slithers and writhes with fury, but remains silent. For a moment, I consider using my curse to bring down the whole building and make a run for it. But I can see now that the soldier shouting orders holds a collar controller in his hand, and other soldiers in the shadows have them clipped to belts, the telltale amber light blinking at a steady pace. Any of them could blow my head off in an instant, and even if they didn’t, others would track me down and do it. Or maybe the collars really do have the range the GBE claims, and they could detonate mine from thousands of miles away without exerting the effort to track me down.

I’m on the wall side of the stage, where some now have singe marks and holes straight through them from previous demonstrations.

“ If the representatives would please move to the other side of the room.” This soldier I’ve never met obviously has a file on me to take their safety into account before I use my curse.

He turns his hawkish eyes on me. “Take down each of these walls.”

Part of me wonders what the other Alpha’s curse is, because there won’t be anything left for him to attack once I’m done.

My jaw set, I assess each wall. Drywall, concrete, stone, metal. I could prolong this suffering of mine and take them down one at a time, but why? I’d only be hurting myself, delaying the inevitable.

Instead, I back up about fifty paces, align myself at the center, and before that soldier moves out of the way, I scream.

I roar like I’ve never done in my life, the force of my voice sending a sonic boom in front of me in an arc, decimating all the walls which slam into the building’s frame and turn to dust, all but the metal wall which crashes straight through the building and flies outside, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

When I shut my mouth and silence my voice, tears stream down my face.

I hadn’t just shouted. I’d screamed her name.

Miranda.

No one would be able to decipher what I said, of that I was sure. But never had I evoked my curse by using a word so dear to me.

I check out mentally during the auction portion. I do pick out words like “front-line warrior,” and, in the end, the bidding concludes at over one million credits.

I am going to the Kingdom of Russia. Where it is cold and icy, and I will forever be reminded of her.

It’s Lieutenant Yarr who leads me from the training ground and back to the academy building.

“ They’re staying the night,” he says, his voice strangled. “They’ll take you first thing tomorrow morning.”

When we’re outside my dorm door, Yarr claps my arm and grips it tight, his expression solemn but his eyes filled with emotion. “You’re a good man, Aubrey,” he tells me earnestly. “Do not die out there.” He leans in, his voice low. “No matter what you need to do, stay alive.”

He’s gone before I can process his words.

Before I scan my eye to unlock my room, I know this isn’t where I want to spend my last hours here. Not alone, not even with Colt if he’s in there.

My feet start moving, and before I know it, I’m jogging, then running through the curved hallway until I reach the door I’d been seeking and pound my fist against it three times.

When it swings open, she’s there, her silver eyes wide, filled with tears. Her lips part, but no words come. Instead, she flings herself at me, her arms around my neck, where she firmly plants her lips.

And all I can think is, Death in Miranda’s arms, I can accept peacefully.