Unravel Me: The Juliette Chronicles Book 2

“I saw them do it with my own eyes!”
    “They were trying to survive,” I tell him, shaking, fighting to ignore the terror of my own imagination. “Their loyalties were never with The Reestablishment—”
    “My loyalties,” he says, “do not lie with The Reestablishment. My loyalties lie with those who know how to live. I only have two options in this game, love.” He’s breathing hard. “Kill. Or be killed.”
    “No,” I tell him, backing away, feeling sick. “It doesn’t have to be like that. You don’t have to live like that. You could get away from your father, from that life. You don’t have to be what he wants you to be—”
    “The damage,” he says, “is already done. It’s too late for me. I’ve already accepted my fate.”
    “No—Warner—”
    “I’m not asking you to worry about me,” he says. “I know exactly what my future looks like and I’m okay with it. I’m happy to live in solitude. I’m not afraid of spending the rest of my life in the company of my own person. I do not fear loneliness.”
    “You don’t have to have that life,” I tell him. “You don’t have to be alone.”
    “I will not stay here,” he says. “I just wanted you to know that. I’m going to find a way out of here and I’m going to leave as soon as I have the chance. My vacation,” he says, “has officially come to an end.”

FIFTY-FIVE
    Tick tock.
    Castle called an impromptu meeting to brief everyone on the details of tomorrow’s fight; there are less than 12 hours until we leave. We’ve gathered in the dining hall because it’s the easiest place to seat everyone at once.
    We had 1 final meal, a handful of forced conversation, 2 tense hours filled with brief, spastic moments of laughter that sounded more like choking. Sara and Sonya were the last to sneak into the hall, both spotting me and waving a quick hello before they sat down on the other side of the room. Then Castle began to speak.
    Everyone will need to fight.
    All able-bodied men and women. The elderly unable to enter battle will stay back with the youngest ones, and the youngest ones will include James and his old group of friends.
    James is currently crushing Adam’s hand.
    Anderson is going after the people, Castle says. The people have been rioting, raging against The Reestablishment now more than ever. Our battle gave them hope, Castle says to us. They’d only heard rumors of a resistance, and the battle concretized those rumors. They are looking to us to support them, to stand by them, and now, for the first time, we will be fighting with our gifts out in the open.
    On the compounds.
    Where the civilians will see us for what we are.
    Castle is telling us to prepare for aggression on both sides. He says that sometimes, especially when frightened, people will not react positively to seeing our kind. They prefer the familiar terror as opposed to the unknown or the inexplicable, and our presence, our public display might create new enemies.
    We have to be ready for that.
    “Then why should we care?” someone shouts from the back of the room. She gets to her feet and I notice her sleek black hair, one heavy sheet of ink that stops at her waist. Her eyes are glittering under the fluorescent lights. “If they’re only going to hate us,” she says, “why should we even defend them? That’s ridiculous!”
    Castle takes a deep breath. “We cannot fault them all for the foolishness of one.”
    “But it’s not just one, is it?” a new voice chimes in. “How many of them are going to turn on us?”
    “We have no way of knowing,” Castle says. “It could be one. It could be none. I am merely advising you to be cautious. You must never forget that these civilians are innocent and unarmed. They are being murdered for their disobedience— for merely speaking out and asking for fair treatment. They are starved and they’ve lost their homes, their families. Surely, you must be able to relate. Many of you still have family lost, scattered across the country, do you not?”
    There’s a general murmur among the crowd.
    “You must imagine that it is your mother. Your father. Your brothers and sisters among them. They are hurting and they are beaten down. We have to do what little we can to help. It’s the only way. We are their only hope.”
    “What about our men?” Another person gets to his feet. He must be in his late 40s, round and robust, towering over the room. “Where is the guarantee that we will get Winston