“That is correct,” I say. “I take it you would not be participating in battle, nor would you have a need to live in the Order’s home base?”
He smiles wryly. “No to both.”
“Do you mean any harm to the Order?”
“No.”
“Do you have any reason to betray the Order in the future?”
“No.”
Still no lies. And that was the last of my questions. Besides, if Peter already cleared him, he’s likely fine. “That’s all,” I say. “You have my clearance. I still think you might want to reconsider your reason for being interested in the Order, but other than that, there are no problems. Thank you for your time. You may return to your seat. We will discuss the next steps from here once everyone has been screened.”
He doesn’t move. “That’s it?”
“That is all of my questions, yes.”
He stares at me with the expression of one who doesn’t recognize the person he’s looking at. “You don’t have anything to say to me?”
“As I said, I have finished my questions—”
“Not the questions,” he hisses.
It’s unusual for him to lose his composure. I watch him calmly. I won’t let him decide the pace.
He realizes his slip and smooths down his shirt, taking a moment to regain himself.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I say. “We have nothing more to discuss. We haven’t had anything to discuss in years.”
“You left and decided that was the end of things on your own.”
“I don’t recall you trying to stop me.”
“So this is my fault now?”
“It was never anyone’s fault.” As the words leave my mouth, I realize I mean it. “Things were only going to get worse the longer we stayed near each other. You couldn’t stand me. I couldn’t stand living in a place I knew I wasn’t wanted. It was for the best—for both of us.”
He continues to look at me as though he has no idea who I am. “You can’t be serious. After everything I’ve done for you—you wouldn’t have anything without me.” I hold his gaze without flinching. “I could’ve abandoned you when I discovered you were a Nyte, but I raised you. I gave you the best education, raised you to inherit the company I’ve worked my entire life for—but you threw it all away. And now that I’ve finally found you, you have nothing to say to me?”
Despite myself, despite knowing that staying calm would be the bigger victory here, I say, “If you truly wanted me around, then why did you never once try to contact me in the military? It would have been easy for you, but you never did, even though I sent you letters every year. Even when I was put on a frontline team, you remained silent.”
He doesn’t appear to have an answer for that.
My voice lowers. “I know you blame me for Mother’s death.” His head snaps up, but I keep going. “I understand why. But I can’t live with someone who would rather I didn’t exist.”
I think of how much happier I’ve been since knowing my team. Getting to know them, their strengths and their flaws, becoming friends with them—it’s made me feel more real than I can ever recall. I feel like I finally have a reason to live. Not for those people, but because of them. They taught me what it means to be true to myself and what I want. And I’ve come to realize that anything or anyone that makes me feel unhappy or unfulfilled is not something I want. I deserve better than that.
“There are still others I need to screen,” I say. “Please return to your seat.”
He stands, reluctantly, and I think he’ll say something, but he merely rejoins the rest of the group. I wait until he’s seated once more before I turn my attention to the light-haired boy from earlier. He’s sitting very still with his eyes staring straight ahead and his chin slightly lifted, as though he’s trying to portray confidence in having nothing to hide. However, people with nothing to hide are never that stiff or nervous.
“You,” I say, and hold out a hand toward him. I attempt to sound oblivious. “We haven’t spoken yet, have we? Please, come.”
He walks over to me with a physical self-assuredness that his presence on my grid doesn’t reflect.
When he sits across from me, I smile. “Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Alex Holt.”
An itch behind my eyes. I flip through the pages on my clipboard until I get to his profile, using the motion to discreetly check the throwing knife tucked inside my sleeve. “Ah, here we are. Then I’ll begin the questions. Why do you wish to join the Order?”
“I want to create a better world for the gifted.”
That’s not a lie, but it does make me think this boy is likely with the rebels. Ringing fills my ears. I want to alert Peter, but there’s nothing I can do without signaling to “Holt” that I’ve caught on to him.
I force myself to smile once more. “I can understand that. In what capacities would you be willing and able to assist the Order?”
“I can fight,” he says. “I’ll fight with the Order against the rebels until we reach peace.”
Another lie. “You’re against the rebels, then?”
“Of course.”
“And you’ve never been part of their organization?”
“Never.”
Lies, lies, lies. There’s no point keeping up this charade any longer. I ready the blade up my sleeve before I murmur, “You’re not a very good liar, are you? Tell me, are you here to spy on the Order for the rebels?”
He stares at me dumbly for half a heartbeat. Then he lunges at me.
I duck underneath his outstretched arms and roll off my chair, landing in a crouch on my feet. He follows, thrusting a dagger toward my chest. Someone shouts. I dodge behind him and swing my leg at the backs of his knees. He isn’t fast enough to react. He falls.
Before he has the chance to recover, I grab his arm and shove him face-first onto the floor, twisting the arm behind him and shoving my knee into his back to keep him down. As soon as he’s incapacitated, I grab his other arm so he can’t try anything. The dagger clatters out of his grip.
“You’re slow,” I say. A lot slower than Lai and Al, who I’ve been practicing with for the past several months. I didn’t even need my knife. “Peter?”
“Already on it; he can’t use his gift,” Peter says as he walks toward us. He holds up a wrist, the bracelet strung with power crystals on it in clear display—including the neutralization crystal he received from Gabriel. A story Lai was sad to tell.
The potential recruits are talking, but I don’t take the time to distinguish what’s being said.
“It’s the first time we’ve caught a rebel spy,” Peter says.
“What should we do with him?” I ask.
“Let me go,” the boy snarls. He struggles to get loose beneath me. I tighten my grip.
“Not a bad idea,” Peter says thoughtfully.
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Why don’t you go back and report your failure to Ellis?” Peter asks the boy. He crouches by his head so they can see each other clearly. “Tell her we aren’t going to let you or anyone else slip through our ranks. She can try as much as she wants, but she’s going to fail. Consider this a warning. We’ll let you live, but the next person isn’t going to be so lucky.” Peter’s eyes narrow. “And if you try anything funny on your way out, this isn’t going to end so well for you. We have a deal?”