CHAPTER 20

THE MORNING AIR OUTSIDE IS abuzz with energy—energy I don’t have. Recruits talking excitedly about the game last night, about what’s going to happen today. I’m considerably more bleary-eyed than my fellow recruits. Probably because I was up half the night thinking about Maverick and that kiss. And Ghost.

If what Maverick said is true, then Ghost basically bullied Prodigy into offing himself. The idea leaves a sickness in the pit of my stomach. But I don’t want to make any snap judgments. It’s possible that Maverick misinterpreted the situation. I need to talk to Ghost. Maybe I’ll get my chance during our morning run.

We take off without any fanfare. After almost four weeks in The Program, we all know the drill: once we’ve all arrived outside, we run. We go out to mile marker five and then turn back. Ten miles still sucks, but my stamina is greater now. I can make it through the entire run without worrying I might fall over dead at any second, and I can carry my own weight once we stop. No more collapsing on the training room floor.

“Morning,” a soft, rich voice greets from just behind me, and I turn on the sound. Maverick is jogging up next to me. This is the first morning they’ve let him run since his injury. Is it too soon? His breaths are a little shallow and his face a little pale, but other than that, he seems to be running okay. Maybe his side isn’t hurting him too much today.

“Morning,” I return. I’m torn between the desire to be close to him, and the desire to put distance between us in an effort to calm the frazzled nerve endings that seem prone to rapid-fire activity and sensation whenever he’s near. I decide on staying where I am. For now.

“About last night…” he starts but trails off.

Is he about to tell me it was a mistake? That he was caught up in the moment? Or worse, maybe he thinks I’m a horrible kisser, or a total loon for running out on him like I did. Maybe it was a passing thing and he’s no longer interested in me.

“Good morning, beautiful!” Ghost trots up on my other side, and suddenly, even though there’s nothing for miles around and even less for miles more, I’m feeling trapped, claustrophobic in this tiny space between these two guys.

“Hi, Ghost,” I say, but what I really want to do is ask why he’s here. Is he jealous that I was talking to Maverick? And even more than that, I want to talk to him about what Maverick told me. I turn to Maverick. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes?”

His eyes narrow. “Sure, no problem.” But his tone doesn’t match his words. Then he jogs on ahead of us, out of earshot.

“Did you talk to Prodigy before he died?” I spit the words at Ghost the second we’re relatively alone, as alone as we can be jogging down a deserted road with fifteen other recruits and two instructors. Ruger and Wraith are missing from this morning’s run.

Ghost gapes at me for a moment, then pulls himself together enough to ask, “Who told you that?”

That’s not a denial. “It doesn’t matter who told me. Is it true?”

“Yeah.” He drops his gaze to the asphalt. “I didn’t know what he was going to do. I was just trying to psych him out a little. I thought maybe I could get into his head and make him blow the assessment or something.”

Anger and something darker churn in my stomach. This is who I partnered with, the guy who would say such ugly things to a fourteen-year-old boy that he ended up hanging himself? I pick up my pace, but Ghost stays with me.

“Infinity, please listen…”

“No!” I practically shout, and several runners around us turn to look curiously. I don’t care. Let them look. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear an excuse. I just can’t right now. You need to leave me alone.”

“Okay, I can give you space,” he says, then drops his voice so only I can hear. “Are we still helping each other, though?”

The anger swirling in my stomach rises like bile in the back of my throat, and I spew my next words at him. “If I say no, are you going to psych me into killing myself, too?”

Ghost’s jaw drops, and he stumbles back from me as if I’ve punched him. I almost want to. And I won’t feel sorry for him. I misjudged him before, but I’ve got his number now. I know what kind of person he really is. I jog away, leaving him in my dust. And I don’t care if I’ve hurt him. I won’t care. I can’t. I think about catching up to Maverick, but the last few minutes with Ghost have left me wanting to be alone.

Ghost keeps his distance from me for the rest of the day, and when we finish our training for the day and all file into the training room to wait for the elimination results and closing instructions, he sits at the opposite side of the room from me. Good. I can’t stand the idea of being near him right now. He’d seemed so safe just yesterday. Today, though… today, he’s the type of guy who bullies a fourteen-year-old into suicide.

Maverick, too, has been surprisingly distant throughout the day. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him since he left me to talk to Ghost this morning. Does he think I’ve chosen Ghost over him? I make a mental note to find a chance to talk to him alone tonight, clear the air. Maybe kiss him again. Heat creeps into my face at the turn of my thoughts, and I shove down my amorous intentions. I’ll revisit those later. When I’m not surrounded by fifteen of my not-so-closest friends.

“Quiet, please,” Sever calls as he and the other instructors file into the room. The room was mostly quiet before that but settles into silence quickly. Maybe because of his instruction, or maybe because of the very serious expressions the instructors are wearing. Whatever they’re getting ready to tell us must go way beyond a simple elimination.

“Last night, we declared Mirage the winner and awarded her the additional points to bring her up to the top spot on the murder board.” At the mention of Mirage, it hits me that I haven’t seen her all day. Have they given her some sort of special liberty for winning last night? As Sever closes his sentence, the rankings appear on the board in question. Mirage shows up at the top. Then Ghost, me, Legacy, Houdini, Cipher, Maverick… and way down at fourteen, Sim. And in bold red letters at spots fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen are Ammo, Recall, and Vita. “As you can see, three recruits were supposed to be eliminated today. But we’re only eliminating two. Because Mirage is dead.”

I suck in a tight breath, tasting the shock in the room. Tiny murmurs and whispers linger in the air around me, but I can’t make sense of them. We’re three weeks into this program and two recruits are dead.

My gaze lands on Ghost, who is staring at Sever in horror. Did he torment her into snuffing herself out, too? I hate myself as soon as the thought enters my head. For all I know, Mirage’s death could have been an accident or an animal attack or something completely unrelated to The Program. I don’t really know what was in those woods. And despite how upset I am about Prodigy, it’s unfair of me to assume Ghost had anything to do with Mirage’s untimely demise.

“I know this news must come as a shock to you all.” Matrix steps up and takes over. “However, there’s more. We were not originally going to tell you all this, because we hoped to resolve the issue internally, but with this new… development, it’s become an issue of safety.”

Development? Did she really just refer to Mirage’s death as a development? Part of me doesn’t want to listen to anything else she has to say. But I do.

“Prodigy was murdered.”

And just like that, the floor falls out from under me. I’m free falling in an endless abyss of fear and suspicion. A million thoughts float around me, but I can’t latch on to any one for long.

Prodigy didn’t kill himself.

Someone here is a murderer.

They killed Mirage.

Any one of us could be next.

Any one of us could be the killer.

No, Prodigy died in the middle of the night.

It had to be someone on my team.

Someone in my house.

And Ghost had nothing to do with it.

I visually seek out Ghost, an apology caught in my throat, in my gaze. He’s looking at me, but the second our gazes meet, he turns away from me. And I completely deserve it. Yes, what he did to Prodigy was still crappy, but he didn’t push the kid to suicide, which means I way overreacted. And now, I’ll get to eat crow.

“Murdered how?” Maverick’s voice breaks the shocked silence.

Sever clears his throat. “Someone drugged him and made his death look like a suicide.”

“We found trace evidence of the same drug in his roommate’s system, which is likely why he didn’t wake during the murder,” Matrix adds.

Maverick’s face is a mask of relief and regret all rolled together, and I feel his reaction to my core. He couldn’t have known what Prodigy was going to do because Prodigy didn’t do it. He was murdered, and Maverick couldn’t even have stopped it because the killer had drugged him, too. The pieces are falling into place, but it feels more like the foundation under us is cracking.

“With Mirage gone,” Sever picks up again, “only Recall and Vita will be going home today. Ammo will remain. And with this elimination, the teams are officially disbanded. Team Matrix, you will be moving into the house Team Sever occupies. Room assignments are posted in the upstairs hall there. Play nice, kids.” That last part feels like a taunt, or a challenge.

One thought sticks in my mind as I follow the others out of the main house and head for mine. There’s a killer in Sever House, and the instructors just gave him or her unfettered access to Team Matrix as well. If they were worried enough to tell us about the murders, why aren’t they doing more to find out who’s behind them?