tales of him in the past year that made her skin crawl, and while she knew that the truth was often exaggerated when it came to enemy leaders, some rumors find their foundation in at least a shred of reality.
Liz didn’t find it hard to imagine Blaine as a ruthless warlord, though she did have a difficult time believing the stories of his wanton brutality. She had met many men in her lifetime who believed death was too good for their enemies. Blaine was not like that. He was smarter, more sophisticated—ruthless, still, but not brutal.
Except where Silent Thunder was concerned. They had apparently become somewhat of an obsession for him, leading him to create the Spectorium—a special force within a special force—with the specific purpose of hunting down the rebellion’s main group…namely, of capturing Grace Sawyer. Many in the Imperial Conglomerate had wondered at his seemingly irrational hatred of her, but they had not been witness to the two worlds of 301-14-A as she had. Now that he was gone, those two opposing forces were free to collide at will.
She felt a lump in her throat as she saw 301’s face, but was quickly forced to turn her mind elsewhere.
A lion had just emerged from the woods.
The region was overrun with them, she knew—apex predators who had flourished in the void left by humans. However, their population had grown so large that the food supply became scarce, which increased the rate at which they would attack humans traveling in the Wilderness. Many Undocumenteds had fallen victim to the claw and jaw of the mountain lions, as had—more recently—scouts from the Imperial Guard.
Liz froze by instinct, succumbing to the irrational hope that perhaps the lion had not seen her.
But the fire made her the focal point of the entire area. By the eerie gleam of the flames she saw the lion look straight at her and lick its chops. The sound from her nightmares rang in her ears, of lions roaring in victory while their prey cried out in final desperation.
And in that moment, the despair was hers.
Soldiers do not know despair , her memories intoned. Only death stops them—and they do not fear it when it arrives at the door.
Liz shook off her irrational horrors and saw the lion for what it was: a starved and weak animal of the cruel Wilderness…a creature to be pitied, not feared. If it dared to attack her, it would find she had teeth stronger than any it had faced before.
She drew both Ignis and her sidearm, hoping that as the blade ignited it might deter the lion’s attack. The bright flash gave the creature pause, but after a moment it began to inch forward, judging the need to sate its hunger as worth the risk.
The lion reared back and prepared to spring, causing every muscle in Liz’s body to tense with the thrill of battle. It lunged, and she did not hesitate. She raised her sidearm and put a bullet square in the creature’s head. It dropped like a sack of meat.
Liz let out the long breath she had been holding, and felt weakened as the rush of adrenaline subsided. For a moment the lion had made her forget the cold and fatigue, but now it came back in full force. She had only begun to turn back toward the fire when she felt a chill creeping up her spine, overcome with the feeling of being watched by someone—or something—that she could not see. She scanned the trees and found only a void of darkness.
Still, that instinctual uneasiness in the presence of danger did not subside. Something lurked there, where the trees swallowed the light of her fire within depths of black…and though she knew that the phantom always inspired more fear than its true form, she still found herself fighting the urge to flee.
Then, from the trees arose a low, guttural noise—filled with a primeval anger and hatred unlike anything she had ever heard before. Pure terror seized her heart in its icy grip, and her confidence melted away. Her hands tightened around the weapons she still held ready, for they would
Liz didn’t find it hard to imagine Blaine as a ruthless warlord, though she did have a difficult time believing the stories of his wanton brutality. She had met many men in her lifetime who believed death was too good for their enemies. Blaine was not like that. He was smarter, more sophisticated—ruthless, still, but not brutal.
Except where Silent Thunder was concerned. They had apparently become somewhat of an obsession for him, leading him to create the Spectorium—a special force within a special force—with the specific purpose of hunting down the rebellion’s main group…namely, of capturing Grace Sawyer. Many in the Imperial Conglomerate had wondered at his seemingly irrational hatred of her, but they had not been witness to the two worlds of 301-14-A as she had. Now that he was gone, those two opposing forces were free to collide at will.
She felt a lump in her throat as she saw 301’s face, but was quickly forced to turn her mind elsewhere.
A lion had just emerged from the woods.
The region was overrun with them, she knew—apex predators who had flourished in the void left by humans. However, their population had grown so large that the food supply became scarce, which increased the rate at which they would attack humans traveling in the Wilderness. Many Undocumenteds had fallen victim to the claw and jaw of the mountain lions, as had—more recently—scouts from the Imperial Guard.
Liz froze by instinct, succumbing to the irrational hope that perhaps the lion had not seen her.
But the fire made her the focal point of the entire area. By the eerie gleam of the flames she saw the lion look straight at her and lick its chops. The sound from her nightmares rang in her ears, of lions roaring in victory while their prey cried out in final desperation.
And in that moment, the despair was hers.
Soldiers do not know despair , her memories intoned. Only death stops them—and they do not fear it when it arrives at the door.
Liz shook off her irrational horrors and saw the lion for what it was: a starved and weak animal of the cruel Wilderness…a creature to be pitied, not feared. If it dared to attack her, it would find she had teeth stronger than any it had faced before.
She drew both Ignis and her sidearm, hoping that as the blade ignited it might deter the lion’s attack. The bright flash gave the creature pause, but after a moment it began to inch forward, judging the need to sate its hunger as worth the risk.
The lion reared back and prepared to spring, causing every muscle in Liz’s body to tense with the thrill of battle. It lunged, and she did not hesitate. She raised her sidearm and put a bullet square in the creature’s head. It dropped like a sack of meat.
Liz let out the long breath she had been holding, and felt weakened as the rush of adrenaline subsided. For a moment the lion had made her forget the cold and fatigue, but now it came back in full force. She had only begun to turn back toward the fire when she felt a chill creeping up her spine, overcome with the feeling of being watched by someone—or something—that she could not see. She scanned the trees and found only a void of darkness.
Still, that instinctual uneasiness in the presence of danger did not subside. Something lurked there, where the trees swallowed the light of her fire within depths of black…and though she knew that the phantom always inspired more fear than its true form, she still found herself fighting the urge to flee.
Then, from the trees arose a low, guttural noise—filled with a primeval anger and hatred unlike anything she had ever heard before. Pure terror seized her heart in its icy grip, and her confidence melted away. Her hands tightened around the weapons she still held ready, for they would
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