"You should be very comfortable here," he said, calmly waiting near the entrance, magnanimously allowing me to take it all in. Probably waiting for my face and eyes to light up like they used to when he’d surprise me with a special treat. He wanted the old Violet back.
But that was never gonna happen.
I was done being his plaything. Done being groomed. Just fucking done.
"Who is my father?" I asked, knowing I’d never have a better time to get answers about my past. If I’d been aware that Uriel had been part of my life from birth, I’d have asked all my questions years ago.
"Your father donated sperm. You were created in a lab. Science is marvelous when used in the right way."
This just got better and better.
"Will you be returning my friends to me?” I decided to push my luck. “There’s no real need to keep them. You’ve already shown that you can get to any of us, no matter the circumstances.” He loved flattery; some might say it was his fatal flaw.
His smile was broad as he regarded me. "I’ve missed you, Rose.”
I didn’t reply, dead-ass staring him down.
“As for your friends,” he continued, “let's just say if you show us your best side over the next few weeks, give this a real chance, then you will be rewarded."
Few. Fucking. Weeks?
He had to be kidding himself. "I’ll give you four days," I negotiated.
He smiled, and fuck, it was so much like the one I used to love seeing every single day that I almost got emotional. He'd been the first man to truly break me.
Apparently I hadn't learned much since then.
"Ten," he countered.
"Six," I shot back.
His smile grew.
"Eight days in which you open your mind and learn everything that the resistance has to give you. Eight days and then you can have your friends back. But after that, your training will be over, and it will be time to step into the role you were born for."
If I had to hear that one more time, I'd probably lose my mind.
"I agree to those terms, but if in eight days you do not give me my family back, then all promises are null and void. I will raze this compound to the ground, and even if I die doing so, I will take so many of you with me that you'll need years to rebuild."
Not even a flicker of his megawatt smile. "I would expect nothing less, Rose."
He turned and left, and as the front door closed quietly—controlled, as were all things he did—I sank down to the floor and forced myself to swallow the screams that were trying to rise from my chest. He'd be outside waiting to hear a reaction, and if he so much as sensed that I did anything other than stand here calmly, there would be hell to pay.
I needed to get through the next eight days.
I needed to get my friends back.
Then I needed to destroy the resistance.
Turned out this apartment was completely decked out for me. Regular clothing in my size, fight clothes in my size, toiletries to my liking—and by my, I meant the ones that had always been provided to me by Uriel.
For the first time in weeks I was able to shower without a taser-happy woman staring at me, and I slept in a bed. A soft bed with nice sheets that smelled of violets. Ironic? You betcha. My sensei knew exactly how to push my buttons, and the fact that I'd been named after flowers by a mother who’d died giving birth to me was something I’d held tightly to—the belief that I’d been loved so much, at least for a few minutes.
But even that was a lie.
How the fuck could my entire life be manufactured to give them the perfect opportunity to emerge as a superpower, I had no idea.
I mean, it made sense when the facts were laid out, but it also didn't. I was a teenager, the absolute worst front person they could have chosen. No one trusted teenagers... most of the world didn't even like them. Hell, I didn’t like teenagers, myself, and I was one.
But Uriel had been right about one thing. The world loved a Cinderella story. Rags to riches. Prince Charming and all that crap. They'd rally behind a pretty girl with a tough upbringing, but more than that, they'd rally behind a commoner with a prince. It made me worry what other plans the resistance had for my stolen princes.
And then there was the issue of the monarchies themselves. Or more specifically, of certain monarchies and their breeding programs. Maybe backing the Society wasn't the worst choice I could make after all.
Ugh, but how could I forget the callous way they'd triggered that earthquake? How they'd given no regard to the loss of life...? How Claudette had been executed in the ensuing panic? No, I couldn't throw my lot in with Uriel and his ruthless Society.
Surely there could be a middle ground somewhere. Like my sensei had said, I had been placed into the perfect position to become their figurehead, their face when the resistance took their fight public. Perhaps that could also be the perfect position to instigate some positive changes on both sides?
It was all so complicated and mind blowing, but I couldn't ignore the thread of hope, that tiny flicker of possibility that I could actually have landed in exactly the right place to stop a war. Not start one.
A sharp knock on my door startled me from my thoughts, and I cautiously made my way over to answer it. Uriel would have just let himself in, arrogantly thinking that he owed me no privacy. Why would he when he thought of me as his creation?
"Can I help you?" I asked the sharply uniformed guy standing there. He was young, maybe a few years older than me—the same age as Rafe and Jordan—and handsome, in a brainwashed sort of way.
"Hi, Violet," he greeted me with a bland, polite smile. "I'm Caine. I'll be escorting you to your first training seminar."
I stared at him a moment, debating my odds of choking him out and searching him for keys or something.
"Okay, sure," I finally replied with a sigh. Uriel was no fool; he wouldn't just hand me the means of escape so easily. More than likely this guy was a test of my loyalty. Already. Damn, this was going to be a long eight days.
"Oh, cool," he said, sounding a bit surprised. "You're much less... uh... I was warned you might be a bit reluctant to start your induction."
I rolled my eyes. Definitely a test and a shitty one at that.
"Nope," I replied with a bright smile, "not me! I was basically born to be in the resistance. I'm very excited to be here."
Caine gave me a skeptical look but then shrugged and indicated I follow him. I was already dressed, so I stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind me. There was no lock—of course—so I just left it and walked beside my escort in the direction of the main entrance.
"So, what are we starting with?" I asked him, maintaining my false cheer. Catching more flies with honey and all that crap. "Bladed weapons practice? Hand-to-hand combat? Meditation?" I groaned a bit on that last suggestion. I hated meditation, but Uriel insisted it was the key to a clear mind and supreme control over our emotions.
"Uh..." My somewhat handsome guide gave me a side-eyed look. "No. The leaders thought it might be best to start you in a history seminar. It's understandable, given your situation, that you might have some lingering sympathy for the monarchies."
I frowned slightly, not following the connection between subjects. What was a history seminar going to do to change my opinions?
We walked in silence for a few minutes, then my guide started pointing things out, like we were on a tour. The communal dining hall, the fitness centre, the swimming pool—for fucks sake—and various other things that I had no intention of ever using.
“What?” I asked, forcing a joking tone as we crossed a lawn, “No prison for naughty Society soldiers?”
He jerked to a stop, frowning, but not before I caught his eyes flick across the street to a concrete building with heavily reinforced doors and windows.
“I’m not going to help you break your friend out,” he muttered, offended. “My loyalty is to the Society.”
“Of course,” I replied with a tight smile. “I was just making conversation.”
And working out where they might be holding Jordan… and Rafe? I didn’t think they’d been at Red East camp with me, and Uriel would want to keep his leverage close.
Caine led me into a building then stopped beside a door marked with just a number—twelve—and knocked sharply. A stern-faced woman of Asian heritage opened the door and eyed me like I was a piece of gum stuck to her boot. Behind her, a single chair sat in the middle of an otherwise vacant room, and in front of it was a massive projector screen.
Leather straps dangled from the chair, and a chill ran down my spine. Somehow, I didn't think this would be anything like the history classes taught at Arbon.
The woman didn't greet me and certainly didn't introduce herself. She just grunted a noise and stepped aside, indicating that I enter the room with her.
Sucking in a deep, grounding breath, I did exactly that and forced myself not to flinch when the door closed behind me. Caine had abandoned me with the grouchy woman.
"Sit," she barked at me, nodding to the chair.
I moved over to it, eyeing the leather straps with suspicion. "I'm here willingly," I pointed out. "Are these antiquated torture techniques really necessary?"
The woman sneered at me, her wrinkled face screwed up with disgust. "You tell me, girl. If we brought the New American prince in here right now and put a gun in your hand, would you shoot him?"