Page 23

Marinah

I hadn’t realized how much I needed King. It tore me apart when he left, and I lay awake thinking about him. I could still smell his scent, his taste filled me, and the incomparable feel of his body inside mine sent tendrils of longing throughout my nerve endings.

Ms. Beast reveled in these thoughts, purring in contentment that was fading quickly for me. When the sadness of his renewed absence was too much, I forced my mind to switch gears. It was the only way to stay sane. I had to focus on the plan. Things would change, even if I had to confront the president directly to uncover the truth. Confront was an understatement because I would kill him if I had to. Sitting quietly in my room like a compliant Federation puppet was no longer an option.

The next morning, foggy headed from lack of sleep, I craved strong, black coffee to clear my brain. Even the bitter something other than coffee the Federation served would have to do.

When I arrived at the cafeteria, it held about a dozen people. I took my usual table after loading a tray. Since the first horrible meal of oatmeal and stale toast, they’d switched to their normal shitty rations of mush, a mystery substance better left unidentified.

I filled two cups with black liquid. The first went down fast, and regardless of what it was, it began chipping away at the haze in my head. When no one appeared to be paying attention to me, I slid a note under the table for Landan, the sticky residue helping it cling in place.

I’ve missed you so much. Too much time has passed without you in my life. Silly really. The two of us are meant to be together. I can’t stand being away from you. My heart. Every day is painful when we’re apart.

Non-poetic translation: It’s time.

I allowed myself a small smile at my acrostic code capabilities. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it would give Landan and the others the heads-up they needed. Change was coming, and soon.

The second cup of black goo disappeared as quickly as the first, and despite its unpleasantness, I forced down the slop in my bowl. On my way out, I made sure to stumble slightly, playing the part of someone too foggy and disoriented to cause trouble.

My next goal: Labyrinth’s barracks, and a third cup of coffee, preferably with him.

I found Labyrinth pacing in the main room, his soldiers practically bouncing off the walls. They were doing push-ups, running in place, using the bunk beds for pull-ups, anything to channel their restless energy and soothe their beasts. The tension in the air was tangible.

“We need to run,” Labyrinth said the moment I walked in. “Our beasts are on edge, and the Federation knows it. They’re setting us up. I can feel it in my bones. We haven’t been allowed out of these quarters for forty-eight hours.”

I shared the same uneasy feeling. The Federation had made it sound urgent that I return to the U.S., yet since I’d arrived, it had been nothing but a waiting game.

“I’ll talk to the president and see what I can do,” I told him. “It doesn’t make sense why they’re keeping you confined. Landan said there have been hellhound attacks inside the walls, and people living outside the tunnels are terrified. You should be out there helping.”

“They don’t actually want our help,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “When we inspected their defenses, General Smyth refused to answer my questions. He made it clear he was taking us out only on direct orders. That speech he gave before your interrogation? Just a pile of shit.”

Labyrinth gestured toward the far counter, where a few trays sat discarded. “Honestly, I think their plan is to kill us with their food. Whatever they served this morning was unrecognizable.”

He shook his head, his dark eyes glinting with frustration. “I’ve sent repeated requests to speak with you or the president, and every single one has been ignored.”

I threw my hands up in a classic what the hell gesture. “I haven’t received any of your requests.”

I glanced around out of habit to make sure we weren’t overheard, even though it wasn’t necessary.

“King came to see me last night. He’s just as concerned as we are. I’ve also talked to my friends in analytics, and it’s worse than we feared. Everything we suspected about the Federation’s intentions is true. They didn’t bring us here to fight hellhounds. Be ready to act,” I said. “This whole situation is about to blow, and we need to make sure we’re the ones holding the detonator when it does.”

∞∞∞

I was left to my own devices for three days and utterly ignored. The Federation prided itself on efficiency and despised inactivity. Everyone was expected to pull their weight, even if it was just menial labor.

As Secretary of Defense, I was technically fourth in line to take over if something happened to the President, Vice President, and Secretary of State. But I knew the title was nothing more than a ruse to pacify the Warriors. My demands to meet with President Barnes had gone unanswered, and the silence only amplified my frustration.

When I visited Labyrinth earlier that morning, the tension in the Warriors’ quarters had risen even higher than it had been three days before. The energy was electric, simmering on the edge of violence. The Warriors needed to run, to release their pent-up frustration, but their guards had been doubled, and I was closely monitored the entire time I was there. I stayed just long enough to reassure Labyrinth that I was doing everything I could.

Now, sitting in the cafeteria, I casually sipped coffee, my eyes scanning the room. Keeping my movements subtle, I reached beneath the table to retrieve Landan’s latest note. With the folded paper in my lap, I read it quickly:

Since your return, the sun is brighter. Kindness follows me. Your light shines through. Lips of velvet await my kiss. And you tremble with need. Regardless of our separation. My thoughts are with you each second. I carry you in my heart. Simply put, I love you. Simply put, you’re mine. I need you. No one can replace you. Gone are my days of loneliness.

Barf.

I stifled a smile, already imagining King’s reaction to such flowery nonsense. Ms. Beast growled in my head, her disdain matching his, and I nearly laughed. But the humor vanished as I deciphered the code hidden in the note.

Skylar Missing.

I nearly lost control when a surge of K-5 hit me, triggered by my sudden wave of fear. The energy threatened to take over, my Warrior instincts roaring to the surface. The only thing stopping me from transforming on the spot was the unwelcome sight of Officer Daniels pulling out the chair across from me.

His face, framed by a haze of red, looked all too tempting, the perfect candidate for the kind of shredding only Warrior teeth could manage. The K-5 pulsed violently inside me, but I wrestled it down, clawing inch by inch back to humanity. By the time the danger subsided, a fine sheen of sweat coated my skin.

I gave a tight-lipped smile and watched Daniels grit his teeth.

He hadn’t liked me from the moment we met, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he thought I stole the defense secretary position from him. Maybe I did.

Deciding to make the most of the moment, I let him see a bit of calculated anger. “I need to speak with the president within the hour,” I said in clipped syllables. I was tired of being ignored.

His jaw clenched tighter, his expression a mix of disdain and barely contained antagonism.

“I’ll pass on your request to the president,” he said. His eyes raked over me, making it clear I disgusted him.

Ms. Beast growled softly in my mind, and I silently thanked the heavens he couldn’t hear her.

Leaning forward, I let my coffee-scented breath waft toward him. “It wasn’t a request,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “You have one hour to make it happen.”

Daniels sneered, completely unfazed. “You don’t make demands,” he spat, his tone laced with spite. “Your job is to be seen by the Shadow Warriors and not heard.”

He leaned in, his voice dripping with scorn. “If you weren’t here, I’d be filling your shoes with something other than demands and whining. I’d be leading and commanding men in battle.”

Bingo.

Poor Daniels wanted to be Secretary of Defense.

I straightened in my chair, meeting his glare. “You forget who my father was,” I said, my tone icy. “When the battle takes place, I’ll be the one who’s there.”

Daniels’s face shifted from mottled red to a deep burgundy.

“Your father was one step away from treason,” he sneered.

Something in my expression must have betrayed my shock because he let out a cold, triumphant laugh.

“Didn’t know that about your old man, did you? He loved those animals more than his own troops. If he hadn’t died when he did, he’d have been arrested and hung. And you? You show the same sentiment, and I’ll be the one to pull the trap door beneath your feet when the time comes.”

His lip curled as he spat the next words, a fleck of saliva landing on the table.

“You don’t fool me with your sweet act. You are poison. The sooner you and those animals are destroyed, the better.”

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, and let my gaze deliberately slide over his entire frame before meeting his eyes again. The disdain I felt for him was obvious, and I didn’t bother hiding it.

“Tell me how you really feel, Daniels,” I said pleasantly, rolling my eyes for effect. “For some reason, you think I care. My father had more honor in his pinky finger than you have in your entire body. If you’d just learn to keep your mouth shut, wipe that nasty scowl off your face, and follow orders, you might actually go places. Oh, and work on those raging daddy issues while you’re at it. That might help too.”

“You bitch,” he hissed, his hand rising.

I didn’t flinch. I refused to back away. If I wanted, I could have broken his hand, arm, and shoulder in one definitive strike. But I stayed still, watching as his open palm landed on my cheek. It was a weak slap, really, not even worth the effort.

The room fell deathly silent, every eye in the cafeteria now fixed on us, but Daniels didn’t seem to care. Something must have shifted within the Federation for him to be this bold. Something I wasn’t aware of.

Slowly, I raised my hand to the slight heat on my cheek. In a soft, measured voice that carried across the room, I delivered my ultimatum.

“Get out of my sight,” I said, locking eyes with him. “Or I will kill you.”

He shoved back from the table, standing with a spiteful grin etched across his face.

“You’ve got it all backward, Marinah. Your time’s up,” he sneered before striding away, leaving me alone with my coffee.

Around me, the cafeteria hummed back to life as if nothing had happened, but I knew better. There was a reason for Daniels’ tantrum, and I needed to uncover it fast.

If he wouldn’t take me to the president, I’d find another way. First, I had to check in with Labyrinth. If anyone had a clue about what was happening or a way to contact King, it was him. Skipping my room entirely, I set off for the Warriors’ barracks, the mile-long walk giving me time to steady my nerves.

When I turned the final corner leading to their hallway, I immediately noticed the absence of guards. My gut twisted. This wasn’t right. It only took a few more steps to confirm the worst.

The Shadow Warriors’ quarters were silent. Empty.

They were gone.

A cold chill ran down my spine after stepping inside, scanning the room for any sign of what had happened. Drawers, cabinets, everything was bare. No notes. No personal belongings. It was as if they’d never been there at all.

Tension coiled tightly in my chest. There was only one person who could provide answers, and it was time for the president and me to have a long-overdue chat. If he’d harmed even a single Shadow Warrior, he’d go down as the first Federation president to die in office, and I’d make sure of it.

I knew where his main work quarters were, so I headed straight there. The journey only heightened my unease. I passed two people in the first half mile, a peculiarity on its own, but the absence of anyone as I approached the president’s office was downright eerie.

“Miss Church. We need you to come with us,” a firm voice said, halting my progress.

I turned to find a man in military attire flanked by four soldiers. The formal use of Miss Church was a red flag in itself.

I sized them up, weighing my options. Taking all five of them in Warrior form would be easy, but now wasn’t the time. My best weapon at the moment was patience, and a growing determination to find out exactly what game the Federation was playing.

“Sure,” I said, seemingly calm, though my insides churned. “I was hoping to find President Barnes’s office to schedule an appointment.”

The pathetic, submissive tone I’d been using grated on me, and I had a sinking feeling my helpless act was over. The soldiers crowding closer confirmed it. This wasn’t an escort. It was a detention.

My fingers twitched, aching to form claws.

Kill.

No.

Kill.

Ms. Beast stirred in anger, fully aware that the dynamic had shifted. She wanted to fight, her rage clawing at my insides.

I shoved the K-5 back with sheer willpower, sending her a silent promise she might actually heed: Soon.

They led me into a part of the underground I hadn’t seen before. The farther we went, the tighter they pressed in around me. My palms grew damp as I fought to keep Ms. Beast restrained. Their proximity was suffocating, and she was ready to burst free. But now wasn’t the time. I needed to figure out what game they were playing before making my move.

Soon, I reminded her again.

The room they brought me to was stark and utilitarian, like the interview room from my debriefing only far more sinister. Steel manacles bolted to the table made it clear this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. The air carried the pungent stench of blood, urine, and fear.

Ms. Beast fell silent, a dangerous quiet that didn’t bode well.

The door opened, and General Smyth entered, his smug expression practically glowing with self-satisfaction. Victory gleamed in his eyes, but it didn’t fill me with dread. It filled me with something colder, sharper, and far more dangerous.

This time, I didn’t have to wrestle with Ms. Beast. I only needed to delay her.

“Miss Church,” he greeted me with relish, his tone thick with condescension. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. He looked like he was on the verge of rubbing his hands together in cartoonish glee.

I pushed down the heat rising in my chest and kept my voice steady. “Mr. Smyth.”

His nostrils flared slightly at my omission of his title, but like a seasoned interrogator, he didn’t take the bait. His game wasn’t to rise to the challenge; it was to lay a trap and pull me into it. He cleared his throat with exaggerated care, the sound oozing arrogance.

“We’ve heard some rather disturbing rumors,” he began, his voice smooth, almost oily. “And we thought it best to address them with you directly.”

I was exhausted from playing the silly, scared female routine, but for a short time more, it was necessary.

“Officer Daniels hasn’t liked me since the day I arrived,” I said hoarsely, blinking rapidly to make my eyes glisten with unshed tears. “It’s so disheartening, really. He and I actually have a lot in common. I don’t understand why he’s so mean to me.”

Smyth pulled a pen from his pocket and began tapping it rhythmically against the table.

“What exactly do you have in common?” he asked after a moment, his curiosity momentarily overriding his initial line of questioning.

Exactly what I wanted. If I could steer the conversation, I could uncover what was really going on. The hours spent with King and Axel grilling me for situations like this were not going to waste.

“Our fathers,” I said softly, pushing a braid behind my ear. “His father is alive, of course, but we both understand what it’s like to have a father who sacrifices everything for the Federation.” I gave Smyth the most beseeching look I could muster. “I’m useless in this position. I’m willing to give up the Secretary of Defense title and let Daniels have it. Surely, you must agree he’d do a better job.”

Tap, tap, tap went the pen.

Smyth’s expression faltered just slightly, a crack in his carefully maintained demeanor. I could tell this conversation wasn’t going the way he’d anticipated.

After a brief pause, he switched tactics. “Why don’t you tell me about your visit to Cuba with the Shadow Warriors? You were there for months.”

I adjusted seamlessly.

“One hundred twenty-nine days, to be exact,” I said, my voice trembling just enough to sell the act, or so I hoped. “I was terrified.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “They treated me well, never gave me any reason to fear them, but I still couldn’t stop longing for home.” I held his gaze, feigning vulnerability, the kind that used to come naturally before.

“They’re little more than animals. I just couldn’t take it.” For good measure, I shivered, forcing myself to look unsettled. “Still, I can’t help worrying about them,” I added, my voice softer now. “It upset me greatly to see their barracks empty. Where are they?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward briefly before returning to their usual pinched state.

“Would you like to explain why a hundred Shadow Warriors are camped outside our walls, apparently planning to invade the Federation?”

Finally.

This was the moment I’d been waiting for. He’d laid his cards on the table and what a hand it was.

The upside? There were actually a little over two hundred and fifty Warriors outside the walls, with King among them. The downside? One of my friends in analytics had betrayed me.

Keeping my voice even, I forced a look of alarm onto my face. “You think they’re going to attack?” My eyes darted around the room as though searching for a way out, feigning fear.

It didn’t work.

“Why don’t you cut the bullshit?” he snapped. “We have Commander Michaels in custody on charges of treason.”

I gave him my best blank stare, keeping my breathing calm and even.

“You’re friends with his wife, Skylar Michaels, aren’t you?”

Damn.

“Yes, I’m friends with Skylar,” I admitted carefully. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Commander Michaels is going to die for the treasonous acts he’s committed against his country,” Smyth said, his eyes boring into mine like twin drills. “But he was kind enough to protect his wife by giving us everything he knew.” His lips curled into a predatory grin. “As I said before, it’s time to cut the bullshit.”

Oh, goodie. I was so done with the scared little girl routine.

Slowly, I placed my palms flat on the table, spreading my fingers as I locked my gaze with his. I could feel my eyes harden, and I knew they’d darkened. It was a telltale sign Ms. Beast was alive and well. She churned in my gut, sharpening her knives and waited for the moment to strike.

“Then why am I sitting here and not in a jail cell?” I asked coldly.

His smirk widened, his confidence growing. “You’ll tell us everything we want to know,” he said smugly. “And then you and a jail cell will be very well acquainted right up to your execution.”

He thought he scared me. That was adorable.

A full-throated laugh burst from my lips, catching him off guard. “You’re giving me no incentive to cooperate if death is the only thing waiting for me,” I said, my smile deliberate, even as it refused to touch my eyes.

His lips pressed into a hard line; his fists clenched tightly. “I believe your friends Landan and Mila would disagree,” he said. “They’re being questioned too. They watched while we tortured Kara, and now they’re writing their statements. She’s dead, by the way. Kara, I mean. She didn’t want to betray you and look where that got her.”

The scream tore through me internally, but I refused to let him see how much I was breaking.

Surprisingly, Ms. Beast had gone silent.

I gave him a tight smile. “You’ve made this easy for me. Whether I talk or stay silent, the outcome is the same.” I mimed zipping my lips shut. “I’ll just zip it.”

The reaction I wanted came swiftly. Smyth’s fist slammed against the table, and he shot out of his chair.

“You will tell me everything,” he thundered, his face twisted in rage, “or your death and the days leading up to it will be your worst nightmare.”

My grin grew substantially. “Death is never pretty. It shouldn’t be. But you should work on your delivery. Slamming your fists into the table? It lacks finesse.”

I should have anticipated the punch.

Smyth wasn’t the sissy Daniels had been, and his closed fist connected with my jaw, sending me sprawling to the floor. The pain radiated like fire through my face. Blood trickled from my lips as I flicked my tongue around to check my teeth. Intact, thankfully.

Ms. Beast growled softly in the background of my mind but stayed remarkably restrained after the attack. She understood the danger we were in.

Wait, I told her silently.

I knew she sensed my fury, and the fact that I wasn’t fighting back gave her pause.

Smyth loomed over me, his laugh mocking. “Like father, like daughter,” he sneered.

I cradled my jaw, squinting up at him through the pain. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said and spat blood on his boots.

One of the bloodied boots struck my side, the force like a sledgehammer, driving the air from my lungs. Pain exploded in my ribs, and I fought the instinct to gasp for air, knowing it would only make the agony worse. I focused on staying still, waiting for my breath to return, even as every fiber of my being screamed for retaliation.

Smyth dropped to one knee beside me, his face inches from mine, his voice low.

“Pull yourself out of this mess and live,” he hissed. “There are no rules here. I can do anything, kill you, save you, it doesn’t matter. You’re a traitor to your country, and no one will care that you’re gone. When they find out you sided with animals to overthrow us, they’ll care even less. The people might not be loyal to the Federation, but they hate those monsters even more.”

His words were laced with pure hatred, but beneath it, I heard the desperation.

He knew.

He knew the people were ready to rise and rebel against the Federation.

I gathered myself, spitting more blood, this time into his face.

His eyes flared with fury, but I didn’t care.

It was the last thing I saw before blinding pain consumed me, dragging me into darkness.