Page 14 of The Order: Rise of the New Empire (Order #4)

Chapter thirteen

Forest

" D o you like what you see?" Atticus maliciously whispers in my ear, his eyes hazed with the presence of power.

Lined up like animals ready for the slaughter, women and men of varying ages, all filled to the brim with Marked energy, kneel before us, each one trembling uncontrollably, their faces concealed with masks to hide the monsters before them. Depleted and disoriented, they all are drugged, each one mentally begging to be released from their hell.

"Like?" I question, wishing it could be Atticus I am ripping into. "I'm fucking addicted," I hiss, feeding into the man's narrow minded way of looking at his own kind.

Looking over the peace offerings with delight, Elyon's thoughts stay close to my own, his own annoyances toward Atticus safeguarded between the guards of our mind.

"Quite a power hungry fool isn't he?" Elyon questions, taking time to examine each and every person before him.

"And you're better?" I question, a small smirk pulling across the man's lips.

"I see no need to make a grand display like this to feed. I don't need to prove to anyone I hold power as this young one does. If he wasn't so vital to the stability of the Precipice, perhaps I'd allow you to feed into the sick fantasy of tearing out his jugular where he stands."

"Allow?" I scoff. "You seem to forget I require no permission from you."

Turning back toward me, he lowers his expression.

"You willing to draw blood to continue defending that point, sweet one?"

Lowering my head at the man's offer, I take a step back from pushing the man's authority, letting him continue on with examining the line up.

"The two eldest hold the most traits," Elyon sighs, glaring at the man and woman before him.

Holding hands, the pair wear bands, their hands grasping each other vigorously.

They're married.

Looking to her raised shirt, a deep scar runs across her lower torso, a wave of shame coming over me.

She's a mother.

"Well, don't let me stop you," Atticus coos, waving his hand in the air, allowing his men to excuse all of the others in the lineup.

Gasping with relief, those not picked silently sob, dragging their feet across the cool tile floor. Gagged and unable to get a word out, the couples muffled screams rip through the air, my focus on nothing but the woman's scar.

Ready to feed with no regret, Elyon slides a knife free from his waist, licking his lips as if the two Marked before him are just another meal.

"Ladies first, Elyon," Atticus smiles, his focus on my stare toward the woman. "Forest seems awfully focused on her," he snaps, pointing to the woman.

Taking notice of my already avoidant attitude these past few days toward his word, Elyon straightens his shoulders, tossing me the knife before I can object.

"I suppose you're right," Elyon smiles, my hand shakily holding the hilt. "How rude of me."

Moving away from the pair, Elyon gasps, his eyes wide with confusion.

"I almost forgot," he sighs.

Tearing off the pair's masks, their frantic eyes look over me, tears spilling free from each of their already reddened pairs of eyes. Walking past me with a coy smirk, I ready myself to hand the blade back, no longer wanting to entertain these games.

"I'm not-"

"Do it," Elyon hisses, his voice echoing through my mind like a thunderstorm.

Watching him take a stand next to Atticus, the men watch me with amusement, mentally hoping I back down, giving them both a reason to look at me as the weak woman they view me as deep down.

Forcing on the cold mask I have grown accustomed to for the past nine months, I take a shallow breath, letting my expression drop, taking my kneeled position before the trembling couple.

Muffled and gasping, I gravitate the knife toward the woman, ready to do this as quickly as I possibly can.,

"One more thing," Elyon's voice chimes in, her screams drowning out my thoughts.

Flicking his wrist, the gag in the woman's mouth comes free, her and her husband's bodies held in place by Atticus's Hold. Gasping for air, her muffled cry becomes a shrill scream, her eyes puffed from the tears she has shed.

"You're the Apparatus," she gasps, her throat scratchy. "Why are you allowing this-"

"Not anymore," I cut her off, my voice cold and unwelcoming. "Things have changed."

Ready to force this knife into her neck and be rid of this interaction, her hand flails forward, her body lurching toward me. Feeling her hand pass over my torso, her eyes grow wide the moment she comes in contact with my skin, a feral rage overcoming me the moment she presses down on my stomach.

"You're pr-"

Driving the knife into the woman neck with little to no thought, I silence the words she dared to utter in both of these men's presence, letting the sound of her own blood choking her drown out the words she might have spoken. Feeling her hand remain plastered on my stomach, I raise and slam the knife down repeatedly, watching the way her husband cowers, horror lining his eyes. Repeating this action until her limp hand falls away from beneath my cloak, her blood coats my skin, my tongue licking clean the red touching my lips.

It's her or you.

The same thought that has been haunting my mind for months.

"You let go of your Hold," I hiss, craning my head back toward Atticus.

"What's a little fun-"

Jabbing the point of the blade into her husband's eye, his frantic cries die down, his body slumping to the floor, joining his wife in her still position. Watching the pool of red collect around me, I look at my reflection in the remnants of death, pulling the blade clean from the man's head, allowing my tongue to graze over the side of the blade. Eyeing down Atticus, the woman's scar touches my mind.

"I'm not too fond of games, Mr. Hawthorn."

Without thinking, I toss the blade through the air, ready to watch its point collide with the man's chest. Grabbing the blade before it can make impact, the young, naive commander takes a deep breath, all of his guards reaching for their weapons. Shakily holding the blade, his eyes slowly avert to me.

"All in fun games," I mock. "Not so fun when the cards are no longer in your hand."

Laughing like a mad man, Elyon squeezes the man's shoulders, Atticus nodding toward his guards, urging them to lower their weapons.

"What did I tell you?" Elyon questions, squeezing the man tight. "She's just what I promised."

Dropping the blade to the floor, Atticus snaps, pointing to the two bodies, his hand healing quickly.

"I suppose you're right. It was my mistake to think of you as anything but an equal."

Games.

It's nothing but games with Elyon.

He knows the truth.

He is just waiting for me to let them all free.

But then he wins.

Feeding into any of this allows him to win.

I have to play his rules.

I have to keep Xavier and Kai safe.

My hand grazes my stomach.

I have to keep you safe.

Gathering the bodies like it is second nature, the guards begin to collect what blood is left in the bodies, cleaning the space with great efficiency.

Grabbing three glasses, Atticus fills the cups straight from the tap, allowing us all to partake in a drink.

"And you swear you and your daughter are capable of creating a less defective breed of Marked? Ones that the chips and Veils may work on with 100% efficiency?" the commander questions, his only true motive power.

"Clearly, second guessing either of us is in no one's best interest," Elyon smiles, taking a long drink from the glass.

"Of course we can," I snap, feeding into Elyon's wants. "Why spit in the face of those offering you complete control?" I question, eyeing the knife inches away from the man's heart only moments ago.

"We've managed to weed out most of the Marked. Some hide in the Unfortunate sector, others in the Untouchable, some in the slums, but that can't be said about Sanctum's capital city-"

"Capitol City?" I question, Atticus's eyes widening.

"The epicenter of Sanctum's hand. The Foundation. Sanctum's largest development. Never been myself, but their people are quite a spectacle," Atticus gripes, clearly not fond of what he has seen of the establishment.

Just another place to bring down.

"There lies one other issue," Atticus continues. "Many of the Revolutionists still work in the name of Forest Evermoore, and they are damn tricky bastards to get a grasp of," Atticus sighs. "Perhaps you being here will help solve more problem than one," the man smiles, Elyon's hand slapping my back.

"She would be delighted," he speaks for me, a million horrid thoughts coursing through my mind.

"Then perhaps these will aid in your hunt," Atticus smiles, snapping once more.

Brining over a small black box, one of the guards bows toward the man, his hand grabbing the box with delight.

Flipping open the lid, two pairs of Veils wait before us, perfectly fitted for both of our eyes.

"To help you weed out the poisoned from the Cleansed," he grins, tapping his own eye. "Two pairs just like mine."

Looking over Sanctum's emblem, the idea of welcoming more of their technology into my body is alarming.

"Unless, perhaps, you'd rather not-"

Grabbing the Veils, I don't allow the man to continue his vile power trip, letting my finger land on the devices, sliding each over my eyes, a small haze blurring my vision before complete clarity. Blinking away the haze, words and numbers sprawl in front of me, red outlines fashioning themselves around the silhouettes of both men before me. Taking his pair with ease, Elyon slips on the Veils, looking around the room with a startled look.

"Red for the Marked," Atticus sighs, my focus going to the guards surrounded in a green hue. "Green for the Untouchables, and yellow for the Unfortunates."

Tapping my temple twice, the colors and names attached to each individual fade away, leaving nothing but clear sight once more. "Tap twice to reactivate," he smiles, the white scarring of his cheek prevalent up this close.

Elyon wasn't kidding when he said the Precipice was advanced.

Grabbing his wrist before he can touch my face again, I give the man a soft smile.

"Thank you for the gift."

Ready to leave this whole interaction behind me, Atticus clears his throat.

"Forest, would you join me in a dinner, as well as you, Elyon, a show of force with unified cities would be great for the council to see, given our little Revolutionist problem," he hisses, glaring at me longer than I'd like.

"Of course," Elyon answers once again, ready to explore this city on his own terms.

"I'll let the kitchen staff know-"

"One more thing," I cut off, eager to hold Elyon true to his word. "There's someone else I'd like to join us, another ally from New Haven," I plea, Elyon's eyes glaring toward me.

Let's put your money where your mouth is.

"Another mutual-"

"The old Commander of New Haven, one of Elyon's best," I smile, Elyon's face dropping. "That is if you still want him to join us," I smile, hanging the idea of power in front of one of the greediest men of all.

"Well, you know how I feel about resources," Atticus smiles. "So long as he may prove fealty, I see nothing wrong with it-"

"Fealty is the only thing he will show," Elyon snaps, a warning meant just for me.

"And so he shall."

"I'll make the arrangements," Atticus urges, finally allowing us away from this dreaded study.

Funneling toward the doorway, I drag on behind Elyon, unnerved by the Veil clung to my eyes.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Elyon warns. "An act is coming together, one to wipe about the Marked. With these chips, there isn't much we can't do. The last thing I need is to kill Xavier because you were too foolish to let him go."

Clinging onto the man's words, Atticus opens the door, my focus on the man's scar once again.

"How does a Marked of your power acquire an injury as noticeable as that?" I question, the first real sign of weakness touching his expression.

Passing his fingers over the injury, he takes a shallow breath, forcing on a grin once again.

"Let's just say I'm not too fond of red heads," he grins, shutting the door only seconds later.