Page 7

WES

October—Present Day

“ W e lost Fort Mitchell last night.” General Cassia Bynes looked like she was ready to eat five infants for breakfast. “As well as Camp Butte and the base at Twin Falls.”

The Situation Room held the basics: rectangular table, ten chairs, Northern flag in the corner, projector, screen on one wall, and a hologram box.

A map of the UFA was projected on the screen, depicting the territory lines between each faction, as well as all major cities, Dissenter camps, and Northern and Eastern military bases.

Bynes stood at the front and pointed at each location as she spoke.

“The unregulated territory between Durango and Boulder is all under Raúl’s command as well, I’m afraid,” Krous added.

Giza spoke next. “Any survivors?”

“Depends on what you consider surviving, Sergeant Major.” Bynes placed her hands behind her back, looking ever proper in her formal uniform. “They took most of the base hostage. ”

I remained slouched in my chair. Elbow resting on the arm. Chin resting in my hand. And just listened.

“They’ll be modified with NIT-V2, then.” Giza slumped back into his chair, his jaw locked.

“This is ridiculous.” Bynes rested the fingertips of both hands on the table, pitched like tents, as she leaned forward.

“We are losing this war. And every time we lose a base, Raúl’s army grows bigger.

His forces never tire. His men never show fear.

They execute every order to perfect precision. It’s like waging war against machines.”

“They aren’t machines, General. They are people.

” Sasha’s voice remained calm. Posture perfect.

Poised and ever serene. “They are my people. They are President Smith’s people.

They are Dissenters. They are Easterners.

And they are Northerners. They are the people of the United Factions of America.

It is their minds that are no longer their own. ”

“Then they’re not ours any longer.” My father’s voice was grating. Harsh. Cold. “We can’t keep losing people to Raúl, Sasha, or there’ll be no faction left to govern before this is over. Raúl will have become the emperor of the U-fucking-A !” He threw the pen he was holding at the table.

Bynes picked up the remote. Pressed a button. The projector flicked off, and the lights turned on again. I blinked, the light jarring to my dilated eyes. “This is hopeless, Mr. President. And with the East no longer supporting our efforts, we have lost fifty-five percent of our forces.”

The East had become Switzerland. They were hoping to stay out of it. Hoping that if they remained neutral, Raúl would let them live in peace. But they were idiots. Fools . Once Raúl was done crippling the North, nothing would stand between him and President Laurence.

“We cannot give up hope.” Sasha remained cool, but her hand curled into a fist on the table .

“Hope?” Charles sneered. “There is no hope. We’re losing!” He slammed his hand on the table. “It ends here, Sasha. It ends now.”

Giza sat straighter. “What do you mean?”

Charles rolled his shoulders back. “I mean I’m securing the future of the North. I will not lose my father’s region to that man. Not today.”

Alarm. Sasha’s eyes screamed like a siren. “What did you do?”

My father sat back in his chair. Head held high. “It’s too late. It’s already been done.”

I stiffened.

Froze.

My eyes darted to my dad.

Charles rubbed his lips. Looked at Bynes, who returned his gaze with a nod. He looked at Sasha. “I’ve negotiated terms of a truce with Raúl.”

Heart beating. Pounding.

Sasha’s eyes flickered in fear. “You can’t be serious.”

Charles cleared his throat. “You have forty-eight hours to remove the Dissenters from the North, President De’vor. Any Northerners in your ranks are to remain in the North.”

Giza leaned forward. “Mr. President, please—”

My father didn’t care. He spoke right over him. “Anyone left on Northern lands will be handed over to Raúl.”

“You are making a mistake.” Sasha’s voice was stone, granite, rock. “He will destroy you at the first opportunity—”

Charles slammed his fist on the table. “I will not lose this faction! Not while I rule it.” He cleared his throat. “Raúl will leave us alone as long as I meet his demands.”

“By betraying our allies?” It was Krous. I watched him. Saw the horror and repulsion in his eyes.

Charles glared. “By returning his property.”

I stilled.

Giza swallowed. “What could you possibly have that he would want besides control of the North? ”

“His daughter, Sergeant Major. I have his daughter. And he would very much like to see her returned to him.”

***

I paced—the winds of a hurricane threatening to tear this base apart.

I was a tornado touching down.

I was a wildfire consuming the earth.

I was a volcano devouring Colombia, Martinique, and Indonesia.

Because desperation sank its teeth inside me. Because in thirty-six hours, she would be gone. Lost. Sacrificed at the altars of betrayal and self-service.

“We have to do something now !” I yelled. I shouted. I didn’t give a fuck who heard me.

Sasha remained seated. Unperturbed by my explosions, by the reckless, chaotic energy inside me. “I understand your anger, Wes, but I have less than two days to relocate my troops off Northern land, and there is no way for me to organize a coup before then.”

My fists opened and closed, pumping fiery blood. I shook my body out. Clenched my jaw so tight I thought I might shatter my teeth.

“I want to save Miss de la Puente, I do. But I cannot do it at the sacrifice of the lives of hundreds of others. We are simply out of time .”

I halted. Stared at her. Stormed her desk and leaned forward.

“If Raúl gets his hands on her, I won’t be able to save her, Sasha.

Not this time. She can’t cross over into Telvian territory.

The moment she does, I fucking lose her forever.

Do you hear me? She’ll be DEAD!” I swept my hand across her desk.

Papers and pens and trinkets and crap scattered the floor.

I dropped into the chair across from her. Leaned forward and shoved my hands into my hair. Because I was breaking. I was crumbling. I was falling apart .

Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like crying.

Because I was the wilting petal of a dying white rose, bending under the weight of crushing gravity. I was browning and shriveling and sagging down into an abyss of endless despair.

Because I had fallen in love with Juliet. Watched her die in my arms twice before. Saved her over and over again from her parents, her life, and herself, only to lose her at the end of it all.

“I am sorry, Wes.”

I looked up at Sasha—leader of the enslaved people of Telvia, mother of a rebellion caving under traitorous hands—and her eyes told stories of defeat. Of hope that cheated and thwarted and lied. Because hope was a painful thing, a deadly thing.

She stood up then. Walked to stand at my side. Placed a hand on my shoulder in a futile attempt at comfort. “I am sorry.” Then she walked out the door.

I sat in my misery.

I sat in my grief.

I sat in pain and suffering and agony that was consuming me alive.

I closed my eyes and regretted. I wished for days long gone. Because I wanted nothing more in that moment than to be Chase burning alive in that fucking arena. Because burning alive must have felt a thousand times better than knowing I had failed at this.

Worthless.

Foul-up.

Screw-up.

I wasn’t granite at all.

I was dust.