“I couldn’t agree more. Don’t watch,” I tell my squadmates, then brace.
She hits from the other side, striking higher, and my cheek explodes. At least that’s how it feels. The initial wave nauseates me, then dissipates into a dull throb. My vision in my right eye blurs and something wet trickles down my cheek.
“Maybe she’s not the key,” the woman says, backing away from me and heading for the others. “Maybe you’re all sick and tired of having to carry her frail weight.” She tips Ridoc’s head up. “Or maybe she’s only strong for herself.” She closed-fist punches him in the face. Blood and saliva hit the wall next to him.
Rage overtakes the pain, and I try to rock forward, but not only are my arms and legs shackled, the chair is bolted to the floor.
She looks over her shoulder at me. “You have the power to make it stop.” She hits again.
I close my eyes and wish I could close my ears when I hear his grunt after the next punch. And the next. And the next. When I open my eyes—correction, eye, we’ve all taken a hit.
“Let them sit with that for a minute,” the man suggests. “They’ll soften up in a couple of hours.” The woman agrees and they leave us, shutting the door but not the hatch on the window.
“Well, this fucking sucks.” Sawyer spits blood onto the floor.
“Violet, your eye…” Rhiannon says softly.
“It’s swelling shut, not falling out.” I shrug with my good shoulder.
“If that’s their opening, what’s next?” Ridoc asks. His cheek is split wide open.
“They’ll try to turn us against one another,” Rhiannon answers. “We don’t break. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” We all say it.
The worst part isn’t the pain or the swollen eye. It’s the hours of waiting, the not knowing when they’re going to come back and dish out worse. And then worse comes and leaves us all with more bruises in various places.
I’m pretty sure that last blow left Sawyer concussed.
Without windows, it’s impossible to know how much longer we have to hold out for when we don’t know what time it—
“What time is it?” I ask Xaden, lifting my shields just enough to communicate.
“Almost midnight,” he answers. “Are you—”
“Don’t finish that question. You know what happens down here.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“It’s almost midnight,” I tell the others quietly. “We still have all night to go.”
“Is Tairn listening for the bells?” Sawyer asks, turning his face against his shackled arm to clear some of the blood off.
“Not exact—”
The door opens and the man walks in carrying a pewter mug. “Who’s thirsty?” He drops down in front of Sawyer, blocking my view of his face. “It’s right here. And you don’t even have to give me your secret. You just have to tell me one of their personal ones.” He motions down the line. “It doesn’t count as breaking. It’s just a personal detail that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Fuck you.”
“Pity.” The man tilts his head. “You’re just not thirsty enough yet. Don’t worry. You’ll get there.” He moves to Rhiannon, then Ridoc, then me. Our answers are all the same.
“Tight-knit group, aren’t they?” Chills race down my spine as Varrish walks in, eyeing us all with unfettered joy.
“They are, sir,” the man says.
Varrish rubs his thumb across his chin. “Doesn’t someone usually give up a personal detail by now?”
“They do, sir.”
Pride flares behind my ribs.
Varrish leans down and flicks the green Iron Squad patch on Ridoc’s chest.
“I’m guessing that’s how they earned this last year.” He stands and sighs. “This is taking too long.”
“Sir, we’re using standard interrogation protocol,” the woman says, entering the chamber.
“Then it’s a good thing that I’m here.” His cheery disposition scares me more than the woman’s fist. “This is my area of expertise—interrogation. And I have just the thing to crack them in record time.” He looks toward the hallway, then crooks his fingers. “Come on in. Don’t be shy.”
Rhiannon’s eyes flare, her gaze jumping from the doorway to me. The fear I see there hits me like a punch to the stomach.
“I believe you all know Wingleader Aetos?”
Every few years, a squad comes along that defies all expectations. They rise through the ranks, secure every patch, win every challenge. And then…they inexplicably falter, then fall. They call it the burnout effect: they flare too fast, too bright to sustain the pace. Sad, really, but mildly entertaining to watch them turn on one another.
—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT (UNAUTHORIZED EDITION)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
