Chapter 4

THE HOUSE IS STILL MOSTLY quiet when I head down to the kitchen, except for muffled stirrings in the farthest corners of the building. A shower is running somewhere upstairs, but for a house with thirteen teenagers, there are surprisingly few voices talking. Because of the near silence, I expect the kitchen to be empty when I get there. Instead, Maverick sits alone at the large island, disinterestedly spooning cereal around in a bowl. He looks up when I enter but goes right back to his breakfast like I’m not even there.

Good morning to you, too. I head for the coffee maker next to the sink and send a silent thank you to whoever was considerate enough to make a pot already. Someone put a lot of forethought into preparing this house for us. For me.

From the looks of him, the same is true of Maverick. His ensemble matches mine down to the smallest thread. Mugger-chic must be the uniform. Without the adrenaline and barely caged panic weighing my thoughts down this morning, I’m free to really take in details. And now that he’s not rolling around in his manties, I don’t feel quite so much like a creepy voyeur if I let my gaze linger on him. He’s not a bad-looking guy. He doesn’t have the clean-cut, boy-next-door vibe of guys I typically go for. Maverick is dark and brooding and lean, with a dangerous quality to his movements. Like he’s been trained to be lethal. It’s the same kind of air a martial arts expert has, every movement fluid and purposeful.

He clears his throat, and even though he doesn’t look up at me, I know it’s because he’s caught me staring. I duck my head to hide my blush, pour myself a cup of coffee, and wrack my brain for something halfway intelligent to say to break the tension.

“So, how far away from civilization do you think we are?” I ask with my back to Maverick while I search the nearest cabinet for sugar.

“Far.”

He’s obviously a man of many words. I find the sugar and pour enough into my coffee to send a diabetic into a coma, then take a sip. Perfect. Hopefully, that will power me through the morning. I turn around and lean against the countertop. “What do you think the chances are of getting out of this?”

Now I have Maverick’s attention. He stops with his spoon halfway to his mouth and gapes at me. “You mean… like dropping out of The Program?”

What’s so surprising about that? “Yeee-aaah.” I draw out the word like I’m talking to a toddler.

“Why would you want to do that?”

Does this guy actually want to be here? “Um… so I can go home. Being abducted wasn’t exactly my life’s goal.”

“Well, it should be. Some people work for years hoping to be picked for The Program.” His voice is level and tinged with condescension, like I’m somehow missing the big picture and he’s having to explain it to me.

“I’ve never even heard—”

“Hey, hey, party people. Glad to see I’m not the only one who can handle conversation at the crack of dawn. Figment couldn’t kick me out of our room fast enough. He’s not a morning person, at all.” Houdini strolls into the room and heads straight for the coffee pot. He, like Maverick and myself, is dressed from tip to tail in deep black workout gear, and even though he’s clearly showered and seems to have put some thought into his poof of hipster hair, he still has an air of greasiness. Like his soul is slippery. He reminds me more of a weasel now than he did last night.

When he has his coffee in hand, he parks next to me against the counter, so close our hips practically touch. “Good morning, Ever.” His tone drips slime.

“Infinity,” I correct and shift to put a few inches between us.

“Mmm… I bet they named you that for your infinite beauty.”

Maverick snorts, and I shoot a sideways glance in his direction. He’s watching us like we’re a stage act. I’ll get no help from him.

“Or maybe it’s because I know infinite ways to kill a man and make it look like an accident.” That’s a bare-faced lie, but I don’t say it for its truth. I feel a twinge of guilt for being untruthful, and send up a silent apology, but I let my statement stand. I’m hoping to get the point across that I’m not even remotely interested in whatever he’s playing at.

“I’ll take my chances. Do you know why they call me Houdini?”

Dear God, please don’t let this be going where I think it is. I purposely don’t answer.

“It’s because I have the magic touch.” He raises a hand and waggles bony fingers at me suggestively.

Ew. “Dude, you’re going to need to move out of my bubble now,” I tell him frankly.

Legacy strolls into the room looking crisp and fresh and rested, with her white-blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She’s bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, and even looks like she brushed on a little mascara. Where did she get make-up? She must have had it on her when she was taken.

“What’s the magic word?” Houdini asks and leans a little closer to me. Then he winks.

“Abraca-dingbat?” I offer in a saccharin tone.

“More like Abraca-dirt-bag.” Legacy uses a shoulder to shove him out of the way so she, too, can get to coffee.

Houdini eyes her for a moment, then feigns injury by pressing a fist to his gut. “Your words, they wound.” He straightens, drops his mug in the sink, and heads for the door. “Or maybe not.”

No sooner has Houdini left the kitchen than the timer on Legacy’s watch goes off. She practically jumps up and down with excitement. “All right, kids. Time to go. May the best woman win.” Then she heads in the direction of the front door.

Maverick gets up from the island and walks toward me. He’s almost on top of me before I realize he’s only coming over to put his bowl in the sink.

I tamp down the nervous tickle in my stomach and move out of his way. “She’s awfully excited about this.”

“Her code name is Legacy…” he says as if I should know what that means.

“Yeah…?”

“She’s a legacy recruit.” When all I do is stare at him, he finally supplies, “One of her parents was in The Program.”

Realization hits me like a tidal wave. That’s how she knew about the program and why she was so enthusiastic about it. This is literally a family tradition for her.

“Are you a legacy, too?” I ask as he heads the same direction Legacy went.

“No.” And then he’s gone, leaving me alone and even more confused than before.

By the time I get to the front hall, it’s five minutes till six according to the clock on the table next to the door. Best I can tell, there are clocks in every room of this house. They must really take punctuality seriously. And I’m one of the last ones to arrive. A boy whose name I can’t remember comes racing down the stairs barely a minute after I take a spot against a wall in the crowded foyer. Without doing a headcount, if I had to guess, I’d say we’re all here.

At the exact second the clock shifts to 0600, the keypad at the front door beeps. Six notes total; then the door opens. Sever doesn’t step inside, and it’s a good thing because there’s no room left in the entryway.

“Good morning, recruits. When I call you, please step outside and wait.” He holds up a tablet. I’m not close enough to see what’s on it, but I assume it’s a list of our names.

“Ammo.” She steps outside without ceremony, and on down the list he goes. When he gets to me, I push off the wall and follow the same path across the floor the other eight recruits took before me.

Then he calls Legacy, and she bounces out like she’s next in line for a theme park ride, all excitement and adrenaline. Next is Maverick. His cool and aloof calm is the antithesis to Legacy’s bubbling enthusiasm.

Now that most of Team Sever is out on the porch, I realize someone is missing from our group. And then he calls her name.

“Sim.”

She stayed upstairs when I came down, and she isn’t here now. Did she go back to bed? Or maybe she found a way out. Is she free right now? Running back to civilization? I certainly hope so.

“Sim!” Sever calls louder, and a door slams upstairs. Sim appears at the top of the stairs, and as she descends, a sense of dread rises in my chest. By the time she steps off the last step, Sever is tight with tension. “You’re late, recruit.” His voice is low and threatening.

“I’m here now.” She flips one of her pigtails and heads for the door.

Sever throws an arm across the doorway to block her exit. “Everything you do here counts. Everything matters. Stunts like this can get you kicked out of The Program.”

“Your threat sounds like a reward,” she challenges.

Sever blinks then steps back to address us as a group. “Removal from The Program is not a reward. Purposely getting kicked out would be the biggest mistake of your life.” He ticks off something on his tablet, then motions for the last girl still standing inside the house to join us on the front porch. “Follow me, recruits. It’s time to find out why you’re here.”