What would my mother think of these people? Glass wondered. And what would Soren think of her?
Soren would think she was a taker, Glass realized. And she might have been right. Glass’s mother had loved her daughter, and would’ve done anything for her, but she’d also spent her life manipulating people to get what she wanted, from extra credits at the Exchange, to endless power rations for their apartment. Glass’s skin prickled as she remembered the coy glances her mother directed toward Vice Chancellor Rhodes, and the hungry, possessive looks she received in turn.
Glass peered up at the trees, touching a dangling plum with the tip of one careful finger.
Protector. After everything Soren said, it didn’t sound half as ominous anymore.
CHAPTER 16
Wells
It was their third day at the Stone and their training sessions showed no sign of stopping. But this morning, instead of running around the track just inside of the walls, the Protectors had taken them out into the woods for what they were calling “active” training. At the moment, Wells was high in a tree, squinting into the darkness of the forest as a thickly muscled Protector walked beneath him, carrying a gun.
The wind blew, shaking the tree. Wells clung to the branch and exhaled slowly, silently, not moving. He waited. The Protector marched closer, keeping to the path Wells had dug through the undergrowth, a subtle trap to lure him in. The man kept going, heedless, until he was mere seconds from passing directly underneath. Three… two…
Wells dropped, landing on the Protector’s back, one arm snatching the gun out of the startled man’s fingers, the other around his neck, elbow tightening and tightening. The man kicked but Wells held on, teeth gritted, sweat dripping from his forehead.
The thunder of sprinting footsteps made his eyes fly up. Two other Protectors approached—fast. Wells spun his captive around, loosened his grip enough to flip and cock the gun, and trained the weapon on the new arrivals.
“Any closer and I shoot,” Wells snarled.
Behind him, a twig cracked. “If that had been loaded, I’d have been quaking in my boots,” came an all-too-familiar voice.
Wells dropped the prop gun and turned, letting the Protector in his arms go with an apologetic pat on the back. The man gripped his throat, coughing, but knocked Wells’s shoulder in reply, mouthing, nice job.
“Come on out, everyone,” Oak called. “This training round is finished.”
The other novice Protectors picked their way out of their hiding spots in the forest and made their way over. Oak waited until they’d all gathered in a loose circle before pointing to Wells with a smirk.
“You didn’t need to mouth off at the end, there,” Oak said. “You had a gun. That talks a lot louder than you do. And a silent man is an intimidating man. If you talk, they’ll think they can talk too. Talk you out of it. Instead of warning them…” Oak stooped to pick up the rifle, spinning and cocking it with lightning speed. “Just shoot.”
He aimed the barrel at Wells’s chest and pulled the trigger. It clicked softly. No ammo. Wells exhaled.
“Other than that, not bad,” Oak grumbled. “Not bad at all. Which is more than I can say for the rest of you!” He turned to squint disgustedly at the others, stopping briefly at Kit, the Earthborn boy. “You were stealthy, lad. You and this one”—he nodded to Wells—“you’re starting to listen to Earth. And She’s talking back. Keep it up and you’ll be one of us, if Earth wills it.”
“If Earth wills it,” they all repeated.
“Now get in line and prepare to run!”
Wells started sprinting away, knowing that Oak would catch up within seconds.
Kit glanced at Wells over his shoulder as he jogged away, blinking twice, their signal that all was going as planned. Kit and Eric had talked to all the other guys from their camp that had been captured, and they were on the same page—everyone would play along and make the Protectors think they were on their side so their captors would let their guards down. Then they would find the perfect time to escape. Wells wasn’t sure what the other recruits thought—if they were true believers or equally unwilling captives—but for now he and his friends were only speaking to the people they knew.
Wells blinked back and Kit looked away, just as Oak fell in beside him.
“You’re running against Earth’s soil,” Oak snarled. This was the call and repeat they had to do every time they trained.
“I beg Earth’s forgiveness,” Wells answered.
“You eat Earth’s food.”
“I thank Earth for Her bounty.”
“Pledge yourself to Earth’s service.”
Wells’s stomach tightened. Here it came—the sucker punch—just like every time the demand was made. They kept saying the recruits weren’t ready to pledge themselves to Earth’s service, that they weren’t allowed. And there was no sense in fighting it, not if they wanted the Protectors to believe they were buying this.
Not yet.