Elite
Chapter Five

Sylvie did her best to hide her smile as she stepped back outside. She held her head particularly high despite the white-hot rays of the sun that assaulted her eyes. Anne’s words replayed themselves over and over in her mind.

The Rebels were on the run.

The reason was not clear, but Sylvie believed it had everything to do with her—meaning her rescue was only a matter of time. The tasty bits of information and freshly cleaned face had lifted her confidence immensely as she climbed back into the back of what Anne had told her was generally referred to as a truck.

Sylvie had learned all about the antiquated technology in Academy and while the common names had escaped her, she remembered quite well that they operated on an all but extinct power supply. As Sylvie counted the dozen or so trucks being loaded for transport, it became glaringly obvious how desperate the Rebels must be. Moving would deplete a very precious resource, but as the group started to file into the waiting cabs, it became clear they had no other choice.

Anne bid Sylvie a bashful farewell and scurried off to join her fair and freckled family a couple yards away. They glared at Sylvie disapprovingly before turning their backs on her all together. While many would have take offense at the action, Sylvie allowed it to spread her inward smile across her face. She was no stranger to hate and just like every time she had encountered it before, Sylvie let it fuel her forward.

Remnants of her smile were still playing about her lips when Sylvie spotted her abductor, Jack, making his way back toward her. She had assumed her dealings with him were over, but as he locked eyes with her across the crowd, she knew they had only just begun.

Reaching the truck, he planted a sure hand on the ledge of the bed and gracefully lifted himself into the space next to her. Keeping her face straight forward, Sylvie measured him up out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t as easy of a target as Anne had been, but Sylvie had always had an advantage when it came to the male population. If her OPTIC had been operational, Sylvie would have willed a bashful glow to her cheeks to give the illusion of innocence. But as it stood, she would have to rely on her flawless features to do the trick.

“May I have a drink of water?” Sylvie asked, seeing the canteen at his hip. She looked up at him through lashes that were still thick and ebony from the previous night and waited for Jack to take the bait.

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to be biting.

Without even a look in her direction, Jack unfastened the canteen and let it drop into her waiting hand. Sylvie’s nostrils flared ever so slightly at his callousness, but she was unperturbed. Opening the container, Sylvie took a deep drink and lowering the jug, smacked her lips suggestively.

“Ahh,” she sighed, drawing out the sound. “Thank you.” She closed the bottled and handed it back to him, letting her hand linger on his just longer than necessary. Turning to face her, Jack cocked one of his notable brows and Sylvie was sure she had him.

A slow smile spread across his face, but before Sylvie could return it triumphantly, Jack produced a familiar sack and dropped it back down over her head. The rough burlap only slightly muffled the sound of his laugh as she let out a squeal in protest and fought to free herself from the dirty confines.

“If you are going to keep on with your pretty princess routine, then keep it on,” Jack said, his laugh still ringing in the air. “It won’t get you anywhere with me.”

Ripping the sack from her head, Sylvie emerged without a hint of flirtation on her face. Her cheeks, instead, were stained with a genuine flush of red—hot and blotchy and completely humiliating. The only thing that could have made things worse would have been an audience to her failure. But her bodyguard had departed when Jack arrived and the two of them were thankfully alone.

Jack laughed again, noting her discomfort before rapping his hand on the cab in front of them. The old machine rumbled to life, the roar of the engine calling out for the others to join it. Sylvie inched away from Jack, settling herself against the rise of the metal that housed the vehicle’s wheel. Moments later, she was thankful for the support as the truck lurched forward down the worn away road. Like a flock of birds, the others fanned out to follow, leaving Sylvie to wonder if any of them knew where they were going.

The small convoy rolled past the ruins of a city that grew more and more decrepit the further out they drove. Large buildings gave way to rows of tiny houses that stretched out symmetrically on either side of their path. Almost a century of neglect had worn away at what Sylvie imagined had once been a rather quaint place to live.

But quaint had never been Sylvie’s style.

Soon all signs of civilization—old or new—disappeared into a shock of trees so dense that entire empires could have hidden in their pitch. Miles and miles stretched out in identical fashion and Sylvie quickly grew bored of the greenery despite its undeniable beauty.

In New Eden, boredom was a vacant concept. The OPTICS provided endless means of entertainment and distraction from any moment of monotony leaving Sylvie unaccustomed at handling the tedium of their trip—the arduous bump and churn of the automobile only added to her growing discontent.

Sylvie eyed Jack shrewdly, finding him with his head rested back against the window of the cab, his eyes closed in the semblance of sleep. He had not spoken a word to her since his jab hours earlier, for which Sylvie was grateful. His cavalier attitude and mocking words were just a couple more things about the world outside her walls that Sylvie knew very little about.

What she did know, though, was that being coy would get her nowhere with him, so due to restlessness and monotony, she resigned herself to playing by his rules. Even if it wasn’t her game of choice, Sylvie knew that refusing to play would accomplish nothing.

“Are you really asleep?” Sylvie asked, making sure her words were loud enough to be heard over the clamor of the mechanical herd. She was almost 100% positive of his answer since the cacophony made sleep seem like a complete impossibility. As if in agreement, Jack lazily opened one bright blue eye, training it on her before closing it again without a word.

The realization that he had no intention of answering her lit a flare of anger in Sylvie’s chest. But she refused to let it deter her. Biting back the vulgar words she wanted to say, Sylvie squared her shoulders and tried again. “Could we talk?” she asked and then as a reluctant afterthought added, “Please?”

At first she was sure that he was going to ignore her yet again, but instead he drew his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Opening his eyes, he considered Sylvie for a moment seeming to sort out whether or not her request had some hidden agenda he needed to unearth before giving an answer. Sylvie met his gaze head on, her expression free of veiled intention and it seemed to satisfy Jack—at least for the moment. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

Sylvie’s mind raced to find the perfect question, one that would shed the most light on her situation without being blatant for him to answer. “What do you want with me?” she asked, deciding finally that a personal route was the best one to take. Even if Jack lied to her, she trusted that she would be able to glean something from his response.

“We don’t know yet,” Jack said simply. He rubbed his hand down across his mouth, scraping the rough stubble of his jaw. “But,” he edged. “Don’t worry. We would never do to you what you have done to us.” The bitterness in his words was so thick; Sylvie swore she saw a cloud of it bloom between them.

She resisted the urge to raise a hand and wave it away—instead choosing to match it with a bit of her own. “No,” Sylvie said, snarling. “You’ll just gouge out my eye like Doc’s, right?” She punctuated her sentence with a humorless laugh.

Jack smiled, unruffled by her dig. “Of course not,” he said, his smile widening. “Didn’t he tell you? That’s not necessary anymore.”

Sylvie could tell he was enjoying himself.

The way he leaned tauntingly toward her and the spiteful gleam in his eyes spoke louder than any words he could have said. It riled her and she didn’t have to say anything at all for him to know it. Sylvie hated how transparent she was, especially after so many years of practice at keeping her true feelings masked. She had always been able to spin whatever web she needed and now, when she needed it most, she found herself unable to even try.

This stranger—this Rebel—had stripped away her defenses and it had taken him very little effort at all. Sylvie realized then that while she had been unable to prepare a trap, Jack had his set and she was already locked up inside. She had finally met her match and she did not like it. Not even a little bit. She felt like she was trying to climb up a slippery slope without a foothold in sight. It was infuriating and terrifying all at the same time.

“I won’t hurt you,” Jack said, when Sylvie failed to meet his barb with one of her own. His face softened slightly and Sylvie sensed a hint of sympathy in his expression. It should have given her comfort and eased the tension that gripped her body like a vice, but it only incited her rage.

“You won’t hurt me?” Sylvie said, sputtering. “You bashed me over the head, tied me up, and abducted me from my home. So what was all that? Foreplay?”

“Hey,” Jack said, breaking in on what would have been a much longer rant. “ I told you not to scream.” He waved a dismissive hand at her. “But you didn’t listen. So I didn’t have a choice.”

His reasoning was laughable, but Sylvie did not argue. She could not trust herself to keep from exploding with indignation and she had already let this boy see too much. Sylvie turned away from him wordlessly, trying her best to gather back up her emotions and bury them away deep inside.

Fighting was fruitless anyway. A fair argument required a reasonable opponent and Sylvie knew there was nothing reasonable about her abductors. She knew just who these people were and what they had done—not only to her or Doc—but to her mother. Every single one of them could make Jack’s promise to do no harm, but Sylvie knew there was only one person she could trust.

Herself.

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