I rushed at him and landed both hands as hard as I could against his chest. He caught my wrists and said, “I’m not you. I’ve got adrenaline and rage and all kinds of twisted thoughts running through my head.”
“Fight them,” I said. “There’s empathy in there. You’re not a Hybrid. That’s why you warned Wyatt.”
It hurt to utter his name.
“No, but even a Mutt can only take so much, Alex.”
I turned and beat on the door, demanding to be let out—taken away
from the barbarian. The door opened but instead of releasing me, the guards walked in dragging a skinny person behind them. They throw him on the floor and I realized it was Finn.
“Finn!” I rushed to him but I was dragged off by the two Hybrids. “Are you okay?”
The guard nodded at Cole and I watched with terror as he approached Finn and yanked him from the ground. The kid barely had time to comprehend what was happening before Cole went on a full attack. He punches, kicks, and basically decimates the kid in a matter of seconds. Finn didn’t have the skills to deflect them or protect himself.
“Cole! Stop!” I shouted but I was shocked still by the sound of electricity buzzing through the room. I heard a throat cleared over speakers I could not see.
“Cole.” Chloe’s familiar voice rang out. “Collect yourself.”
Cole stopped the instant she spoke and dropped Finn’s battered body in a heap on the floor. I struggled away from the guards and to my surprise they let me go to him. I grabbed his wrists, looking for a pulse and found one, but it was faint and he was certainly not conscious. I looked up at Cole and saw nothing but a blank expression and his chest heaving from exertion and rage.
“Good afternoon, Alexandra,” Chloe said from her hiding spot. “It’s my understanding you’re unwilling to cooperate with the physical activities I have set up for you and my brother.”
“I’m not fighting him.”
“Let me make something clear. Cole needs an outlet for his pent-up energy. It will not be with members of my army. It can be you or one of the other traitors.”
She knew she had me. Neither of the Mennonites could survive repetitive altercations with Cole, and I doubt either Avi or Jane would last long. I stared at the two-way mirror and said, “I hate you.”
The speaker clicked off and the guards wrenched Finn from my arms and Cole and I were left in the room alone. He stared down at me and I shot him a glare.
“I told you,” he said. “We’re not going to win.”
That was when I broke, when he used the word ’we’. My resolve snapped. I had little doubt that I needed Cole to get out of here, and Cole needed to be smarter for that to happen. Playing Chloe’s games might be the only way to make that happen.
He spotted the shift in my demeanor as I stood and said, in a surprisingly low and lucid voice, “Play her game with me and help me get strong again. Help yourself.”
It was twisted, but the rumbling in my stomach betrayed the bigger picture. I wouldn’t survive if I starved. I wouldn’t escape without his help. He dropped my hands and stood in front of me, beckoning me to take a swing. For a brief second it was like we were captured and held in Erwin’s lab all those months ago. That was when he first told me who he was and how he fit into my life. That day, we became a team who didn’t fully trust one another but needed the other to survive.
We were still that team.
“Sorry-not-sorry about this,” I said, faking to my left before spinning and kicking him as hard as I could in the balls.
That night, food waited for me back in my room.
Game on.
Chapter Two
The training went on like that for months. Daily beatings. Small victories—like keeping my friends and family away from the violence. But the morning after my most recent training session with Cole, I’m stiff and sore. The pain in my side aches. Cole got more than one jab near my already-tender ribs, and it would suck if I’m bleeding internally. Of course, I don’t think I’m getting out of this life that easily.
I’m still lying on the bed when my door unlocks and the tray of food comes sliding in. I glance down at the mash of oats, a single fried egg, and several strips of jerky. My mouth waters but the pain is worse. When the guard returns, he finds the food uneaten and me holding my side on the bed.
“Get up,” the Hybrid says. “Use the bathroom now, or not at all.”
The Hybrids have no room for human error, simply because they’re not human. Their empathy is overridden by a short fuse and damaged cerebral cortex. So even though it hurts like hell, I haul myself off the bed.
“I’m up,” I announce through gritted teeth.