Elite
Chapter Twenty-Two

Dawn broke over the horizon chasing away all the darkness except for the shadows in Sylvie’s heart. As she stood at the top of the platform, she stared out at New Eden almost like she was seeing it for the first time. The air felt sharper, the light brighter, and even the quiet was too loud. Sylvie ran her hands over her face trying to block it all out when the sound of her name cut through even her strongest defenses.

“Sylvie?” Reidan Price’s voice, rich and full, acted just like a magnet, pulling Sylvie’s eyes directly to him at the foot of the ramp. Dressed in a tailored, grey suit and shoes polished to a high shine, he looked much more like the Premier than a father whose daughter had been missing. But Sylvie realized that the old her never would have noticed a distinction, so she knew she couldn’t act like there was any difference now.

“Daddy!” she cried and took off down the incline. Throwing her arms around him, Sylvie felt her father return the embrace with one short squeeze. He pulled away and placing his tremendous hands on her shoulders, her father gave her a thorough once over. Staring up at him, Sylvie tried her best to decipher his expression. She had not had any time to read his messages—or anyone else’s for that matter—so she had no way to gauge his reaction.

At least not until he spoke.

“Thank God you are alright,” he said and clasped her again tightly to his expansive chest. “I have been so worried.” The bold confidence characteristic of Reidan Price’s voice wavered, shaking all around the edges as he spoke. And in that moment, he was everything Sylvie wanted him to be. A father who had missed his daughter.

“I missed you so much, daddy!” Sylvie said, tears breaking the dams of her eyes and pouring like flood waters down her face. And there wrapped up tight in her father’s arms, Sylvie let herself cry. But not for the reasons Reidan Price thought. Sobs tore through her body for everything that was and all that would never be again. If Sylvie had counted her tears, she was sure there would be one for every memory that was now tainted and still plenty left over for each new doubt she felt inside. Clinging to the arms that had held her after every skinned knee and broken dream, she couldn’t help but wonder how much of it had been real. And how much had only been smoke and mirrors.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” her father said, patting her consolingly. “You are home now and I promise I will take care of everything.” He planted a kiss on the top of Sylvie’s head and gave her one last squeeze before letting go. Sylvie looked up at him and nodding, she wiped away the tears that still clung to her cheeks.

Reidan Price smiled down at her and Sylvie felt her insides lurch in response. That smile—his smile—had been a prize Sylvie had sought her entire life. She had always gone out of her way to draw out the softness in her father’s features. But as he gave it to her now, she realized for the first time that she didn’t want it. Especially not when it came tied to a promise to “take care of” the people who had so quickly become her friends.

“What will happen to them?” Sylvie asked, punctuating her question with a sad sniffle. There were parts of her that were not completely resolved to her father’s villainy, but that uncertainty only fueled her curiosity.

“Most will become Scabs,” Reidan said, parroting the response she had gotten from Davis. As he spoke, her father placed a hand on Sylvie’s back and ushered her away from the SolarCraft toward home.

“And the others?” Sylvie said, falling in step with him. Though her eyes were facing front, they were wide and expectant. Silently, Sylvie willed her father to give her something—anything—she could use to help Jack and the others. Just some detail that could direct her focus, but Reidan Price was almost as tight lipped as his protégé.

“The others will be punished according to their crimes,” he said. “The more serious the crime, the most serious the punishment.” He spoke so resolutely that Sylvie knew that any more questions would be in vain, so she let them drop away and the two of them rounded the corner onto their street in silence.

As they approached the house, Sylvie was sure her information well had all but run dry until her father stopped her right outside the door. “I want you to know,” he said, turning to face her on the stoop outside. “That boy who took you will be dealt with the severest of all. After I am through with him, he will never be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again.” Sylvie kept her face placid, but inside she felt a wave of hopelessness rush in and crash over her.

Her father knew about Jack.

Sylvie quickly retraced her every word and step looking for the error that had given him away, but there was nothing. Not so much as a batted eyelash that could have been called into question. That’s when Sylvie realized it had not been her at all. “They said that he—the boy—was working with someone,” Sylvie said, her voice drifting off. She hoped the unfinished statement would entice her father to complete it.

“The girl,” he said, nodding more to himself than to Sylvie. “She and the boy will be made an example of for all of Sector C.” The hard set of his jaw and the slight flare of his nostrils magnified the bitterness in his tone as he spoke. It was not much, but it was a telltale sign Sylvie had learned a long time ago. It meant Reidan Price was angry.

And it was terrifying.

If history had taught her anything, Sylvie knew the best thing to do was leave the subject alone, at least for now. But no matter how afraid she was, Sylvie knew that was not an option. “How?” she asked. It was direct and her own forwardness made Sylvie a bit queasy, but she hushed her paranoia. She had always been curious about her father’s work so it was not uncharacteristic for her to want to know more. At least her father didn’t seem to think so.

“They will be publicly executed,” he said.

Sylvie could not move. And even if she could, she did not trust herself to try. Her eyes, unblinking, burned like hot coals, but Sylvie refused to close them. Instead, she focused on the small pain in an effort to ignore the crippling despair that welled up inside of her.

Her father was going to kill Jack.

The memory of Rex’s lifeless face threw shadows on the walls of her mind, twisting and turning the grisly scene into one even more devastating. One she could not bear. “When?” Sylvie heard herself say. It was startling how calm and even her voice sounded despite the storm that brewed just below the surface. But then again, Sylvie knew she shouldn’t be surprised.

Both of her parents had lived little lifetimes wearing masks. Why wouldn’t their daughter possess a few of her own? Sylvie felt the false face of placidity slip seamlessly into place over her features as she waited her father to reply. But no amount of practice or pretending could have prepared her for what she heard.

“Next week.”

***

Sylvie gazed into the mirror at the stranger’s face that stared back at her. Emma, her Scab, worked diligently on Sylvie’s hair, tucking and smoothing the wild tresses into a polished chignon. The girl had opened the front door immediately following her father’s bombshell announcement and spared Sylvie from having to fake any kind of unaffected response.

Instead, she was able to hide away and process the news properly—crying in the shower—the way God had intended. Once her tears had run dry, Sylvie pulled herself together and prepared to face the challenge before her. One week. She had one week to figure out a way to save Jack. One week to change everything.

“That looks fine, Emma,” Sylvie said, noticing the girl fretting over a curl that was determined to fall along the long line of Sylvie’s neck. She had spent the last hour getting Sylvie ready for the party her father had insisted on having to celebrate her safe return. It was frivolous and unnecessary and Sylvie suspected it had very little to do with her and a whole lot to do with glorifying the defeat over Sector C. She doubted, though, that anyone else would know the difference.

“Are you ready?” Bianca’s 50th message flashed across Sylvie’s line of vision. She had been blowing up Sylvie’s messages since she came back online, but Sylvie had still not readjusted to feature of the OPTICS.

Or any of them for that matter.

Least of all, the one that hovered just inches above Sylvie’s head in her reflection. The red halo of Emma’s iris haunted her and she wished for the time when she would be able to turn it off for good. But that time was not now—not yet. After telling Bianca she would meet her in the plaza, Sylvie tidied her room and with one last glance in the mirror, let her new mask fit firmly into place.

The cool night air was met with a shy smile and eyes glossed with wonder and adoration. It was a role she had played a thousand times before, but the stakes had never been as high as they were now. As she entered the courtyard, Sylvie paused and found herself standing right where she had been before all of this had begun. But even with the same strings of twinkling lights overhead, Sylvie was a million miles from where she had been.

Had it really only been a week? It felt as though an entire lifetime had gone by. Thinking of Jack, Sylvie hoped she could accomplish as much in the one to come. She didn’t have any idea what she would do or how, but she vowed she would get him out. One way or another.

It only took a few moments for Sylvie’s arrival at the party to be noted and for the celebration to officially begin. Rounds of champagne appeared on trays and one elegant flute was thrust right into Sylvie’s hands. The same Master of Ceremonies who had introduced her father at the Commemoration called for a lifting of glasses in her honor.

Sylvie smiled demurely and joined New Eden in a toast. But as she lifted her glass, Sylvie knew she was no longer one of them. No longer part of the Elite. From now on, she would be the only thing left for her to be. From now on, she could be like her mother.

An Emissary.

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