Chapter 14: Hayeon

Four Months Later

I had my sights set on going on my first mission soon. I'd heard so many stories about how thrilling it was, and I couldn't wait to prove I was ready. Today would be the day I showed everyone—and Shavon—that I had what it took.

I opened the door to the training room, and heads turned as I walked in. I placed my books in a small locker and started stretching next to Skylar. When the gong rang, everyone crowded around.

"All right," Shavon began coldly. "Today, we'll be sparring to the death. Use whatever weapons you choose. However, neither you nor your partner will leave this floor until one of you isn't breathing."

My heart raced. This was it—the moment I'd been waiting for.

The names were called one by one until finally, mine was paired against Skylar's. I bit my lip, glancing at Shavon, hoping for any sign that he'd change his mind. But he didn't even look at me.

This was real. Either I would die today, or I'd have to kill my friend.

Skylar was pale with ginger hair and a lean build. He was short but strong, and his sense of humor had made him one of my favorite people here. The first time we met, he'd joked that I looked like Mulan.

While some might've taken offense to that, I found it funny. He'd made me laugh that day, and he'd continued to do so ever since.

Now, I stood across from him, and he didn't look like my friend anymore—just my opponent. Skylar walked to his side, picking up a bow, his weapon of choice. I grabbed a sword, gripping it tightly.

"Begin," Shavon commanded.

The mat beneath us was stained with blood from earlier matches. It squelched under my feet as I moved. Skylar wasted no time, firing an arrow in my direction. I dodged, rolling to the side and rushing toward him.

He had picked the wrong weapon. Bows were great for long-range combat but far less effective up close. I swung my sword, but he blocked the strike with his bow and kicked me backward.

I hit the ground hard, my sword clattering out of my grasp. Skylar was on me in an instant, pressing the bow against my throat. I gasped, clawing at the weapon, my vision blurring as he applied more pressure.

He didn't want to kill me—I could see it in his eyes. But he wanted to live. And so did I.

Desperately, my hand searched for my sword, patting the blood-soaked mat. I finally found the hilt and, with the last of my strength, slashed at his arm.

He cried out in pain, falling to the side. I tried to stand, but he grabbed my leg and yanked me down. I kicked him with my free leg, catching him square in the face. Blood gushed from his nose as he recoiled.

Dropping my sword, I scrambled to the bow he'd left behind. Sliding across the mat, I grabbed it and immediately notched an arrow. Without a second thought, I let it fly.

The arrow pierced his skull, and Skylar's body crumpled to the ground.

The room erupted into cheers, but I couldn't hear them. All I could do was stare at Skylar's lifeless form as men dragged his body off the mat.

Shavon, as always, remained stoic, showing no emotion.

I went straight to my room after the match, stepping into the shower. The hot water streamed over me as I slid down the gray tile wall, hugging myself.

I couldn't tell if the water on my face was from the showerhead or my own tears.

When I finally finished, I dressed and sat on my bed, staring blankly at the papers scattered across it.

There was a knock at the door.

"Can I come in?" Shavon asked.

"Hmm," I murmured, closing my notebook.

He stepped inside, his voice softer than usual. "I just came to see how you were doing."

I stood, determined. "I'm ready."

"For what?" Shavon asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"To go on my first mission," I replied firmly.

Shavon scoffed, crossing his arms.

I clenched my jaw, meeting his gaze. "I killed Skylar. I did it quickly. He was my friend. You paired me with him for a reason, didn't you? To see if I could keep my emotions in check. To see if I could follow orders."

"Yes," he admitted, his expression unreadable.

I bit my lip, trying to keep my emotions in check like I'd learned in psychology class.

"You're tense because you don't like that I made you go against your friend," Shavon continued, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. "Your under-eyes are red—you've been crying. You feel bad about what you did."

My lips twisted as his words hit home. He was right.

"So what?" I shot back.

"To do these missions, you can't have a conscience," he said bluntly. "You get an order, and you follow it. If you have to lie, you lie. If you have to kill, you kill. You told me you wanted to be the best. Right now, you're not."

My lip quivered, and I shut my eyes, unwilling to let him see me break.

He sighed, stepping forward to pull me into a hug. "Go ahead, let it out. But this will be the last time you cry."

I nodded, hugging him back as sobs racked my body.

He rubbed my back, his touch surprisingly comforting. "You're not ready now," he said softly, "but you will be."

I knew he was right. Skylar would have killed me if he had the chance, just as any of the others would have.

Shavon stayed with me until I fell asleep that night. It was comforting, knowing he was there.

I curled up in bed, clutching the blue bear Shavon had given me for Christmas.

Still, I missed the warmth of holding Revien's hand.