Three (Article 5 #3)(56)

I wasn’t afraid anymore—not of this place, not of the council members or their purpose.

Not even when DeWitt pulled the knife from his pocket.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Are you sure?” whispered Chase.

Nervously, I untied my collar, and tilted my head to the side as DeWitt brandished the knife against my heart.

“It only hurts for a moment,” he said softly.

On the first cut I siphoned in a quick breath, locked my jaw, and stared at the closest cross.

On the second, I exhaled.

I never felt the third.

“Welcome to Three,” said DeWitt.

*

THE cool night air made the mark sting, but I didn’t care. For the first time since we’d arrived I felt like I actually belonged here.

DeWitt withdrew a bandage from his pocket. He removed the sticky backing and placed it gently over the wound. I followed the council members and tied the collar back in place; no one I knew to be a part of Three broadcasted their marks.

They looked to Chase, and Chase looked to me.

We’ll never be able to go back, he’d said. These were our lives now.

But when I considered them marking him, I felt unsure of my choice. It was like standing on a cliff, inching closer to the edge.

A crash inside the shed distracted me, bringing a chill up my spine. DeWitt’s head snapped in that direction, and soon he was running toward the sound.

“Billy,” I whispered. Chase and I followed closely behind.

We reached the door and found Billy still outside. Physically, he looked fine; there was no blood, no broken bones. But his knuckles were flexed around the gun he pointed at the door.

Another crash came from inside, this time followed by a male’s sharp cry of pain. DeWitt was struggling to open the deadbolt on the door with a key from around his neck.

“Who’s in there?” Chase asked.

“Your uncle,” muttered DeWitt. A second later he’d removed the lock, but Chase shoved him aside and plowed through the entrance. I followed him inside, blinking back the bright lantern light coming from three of the four walls.

To my left, hidden from view of the front door, was an animal cage, like that which would hold livestock, and curled across the bottom of it, too big to stretch out, was a man.

His face was bruised and swollen. His navy blue uniform jacket was stained with blood and sweat. Standing outside the cage, his hands entangled in the mesh, was Jesse. He had a pair of needle-nose pliers in his teeth.

“Oh,” I said, siphoning in a breath.

Chase was staring at his uncle, the shock on his face hardening to rage.

“Rebel dogs,” muttered the soldier. He grinned at me, teeth bloody. “You know what they call a female rebel dog?”

Jesse kicked the mesh, sending it rattling against the back wall. The man flipped over onto his other side. With him facing away I could breathe again.

“You keep prisoners here,” I said, forcing myself to look away from the soldier.

This was a war. He was the enemy. Men like him were killing my friends.

Not that long ago you thought I was the enemy, too, Sean had said.

“How did you think we knew about the chief’s party?” asked DeWitt quietly.

I turned and skipped the steps, landing on the ground. I couldn’t be near him a second longer.

Chase followed me, one hand over his mouth.

“He’s a man,” I said, “not an animal.”

Chase’s eyes darkened. He lowered his hand. “I know that.”

“They’re holding him in a cage, Chase! That’s what they do. That’s not what we do!”

“I know,” he said.

I pulled away from him, disgusted with what I’d seen, with the marks still burning my chest. He stared into the night, fingers woven behind his neck.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I felt sick. I was a part of this now, a part of all of it. Forever. The proof was right there on my skin.

But we still had to go. However bad Three was, the MM was worse.

I told myself this again and again.

Jesse stepped into the doorway, a dark shadow against the bright lights inside. He met Chase’s accusing stare, the air between them growing heavy with challenge.

“If you want to know, just ask, Chase.” It was the first time I’d heard Jesse use his first name. His voice was soft, careful, and seemed to hold DeWitt and Billy back from intervening.

“I don’t,” said Chase.

Jesse’s head fell forward. Somewhere deep inside, I felt a slash of pity.

“I have to tell Rebecca we’re leaving,” I said. Sean may have already gone; I couldn’t leave her alone without saying good-bye.

Chase led the way.

*

REBECCA was not in the kitchen or the south wing. Chase checked the dorms, but she wasn’t there either. My search became frantic; if I didn’t find her soon, I wouldn’t be able to tell her we were going.

Finally, we made our way to the barn. The breezeway had recently been raked, and the stalls smelled of fresh hay. A few horses trotted close to the gates as we approached, looking for treats. They snorted and stomped their feet when I passed them by.

I spared a lingering glance up at the loft, then blushed when Chase caught me.

Outside, the slow clomp-de-clomp of hoof beats approached, and we turned toward the entry, where a girl’s soothing voice carried into the barn.