Your Knife, My Heart By K. M. Moronova NovelM80026 Your Knife, My Heart (Chapter - 4)

Your Knife, My Heart By K. M. Moronova

Didn’t he say that he doesn’t sleep much?

I cross my arms over my chest and stare down at Cameron. His shoulders are slumped forward and his head hangs to the side. Liar, I muse as I squat a few feet away to observe him.

His fairly new scar that cuts over the inner portion of his eye looks painful, but he hasn’t shown an ounce of discomfort. It makes sense, given he did say he’s incapable of feeling pain. I wonder how long that drug lasts. Is it something he has to keep up with, or does it last for extended periods of time? Is there a way to reverse it?

A scraping metal sound echoes through the small cell. I glance up as the door opens and find General Nolan staring down at me in awe. His expression quickly turns into a relieved smile. “Well, what do you know, he didn’t kill you.” I can’t say I’m all that thrilled to hear the utter surprise in his tone, that means he was likely betting on me not coming out of this breathing.

I’m still squatting in front of Cameron. I look back at him and find his sage eyes burning into me before he sits up and stretches his arm over his head. A weak smile. “I’m as surprised as you are, General,” Cameron mumbles carelessly.

He smiles a lot for someone in his circumstances. There’s a weight there so heavy it drowns the parts of me that are familiar with his pain. He must have been thrown away at some point in his life like I was. How else does someone fall as far as we have? His brow raises, trying to hide what’s there, but I see his tragic ghosts, as they dance too close to my own.

I force my eyes back to the ground before I get too lost in his gaze.

“Well, this was unexpected. I guess we’d better get you two into the Under and straight into training. Follow me,” Nolan mutters as he steps to the side and waits for me to exit the cell before him.

Cameron stands up and crosses his arms. “Us two?”

Nolan nods, a crooked grin forming across his lips. “What, Lieutenant Erik didn’t fill you in?” A beat of silence, then Nolan sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “Of course he didn’t. Your punishment extends into the Under Trials too, Mori. In hopes that it will retrain that rotten brain of yours and allow you to prove yourself worthy of your spot on the squad.”

A weight settles in the air between them.

Cameron’s eyes darken and he grits his teeth. “And how is that fair to the cadets without my level of training, if I can’t stop myself from killing them?”

“Because you’ll need to get not only yourself, but her out of the trials as well. Your main task is to not kill your partner in the heat of battle. You passed this experiment in the cell, but what happens when you’re in a hostile environment? What happens when you two are alone somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere?” Nolan tuts. His words make Cameron’s eyes flicker with uncertainty.

Cameron wasn’t joking; we’re real life experiments to them, and I’m guessing it’s going to be hard for him to control himself. Great.

Nolan laughs as he unlatches his chest pocket and pulls out a bottle of pills. He tosses it at Cameron. My eyes follow the black bottle as it sails through the air. Cameron catches it, his hand steady as he shoots me a disinterested glance. I watch as he pops the lid, grabs three or four pills, shoves them in his mouth, and swallows them dry. He visibly relaxes and lets his shoulders drop.

My eyes dry. He’s addicted to the very drugs he claims are killing other soldiers. What will happen to him if he keeps this up? I swallow the discomfort that bubbles up as I watch him take those death pills.

I don’t know him. I don’t care. But I can’t shake the unease that develops in my stomach.

Nolan leads us down a long hallway. I spare a few glances at Cameron, who seems indifferent to the news of his fate. More annoyed than anything else. Though the “Under Trials” don’t sound like something that should be taken lightly. I’m sure I’ll be hearing a lot about them once we’re with the other cadets in boot camp.

As we pass a large gray gym with a group of soldiers doing push-ups, Cameron’s eyes flick to mine and catch me staring. I look away sharply.

“So, what happened to your eye?” I break the silence as we enter the commons of the base, where men and women dressed in military attire walk with purpose in every direction. Most of them are in the standard green camo gear, but some are wearing Air Force and Navy uniforms.

General Nolan’s uniform is black camo, and his badges are unique—a gold circle surrounding a skull with the letters DF at the center. That must be the symbol for the Dark Forces.

“That’s what he got for killing his last partner in the field,” Nolan grumbles, then stops walking briefly. I jolt and look at Cameron. His mouth is set in a firm line, I’m assuming because he doesn’t like when people answer for him. “He decapitated the last one with his KA-BAR. Do you know how much effort it takes to saw off a head with only a combat knife, Cadet Maves?”

My throat bobs. I do know, actually.

Nolan’s eyes narrow at me when I don’t seem as grossed out as he was expecting. “He deserved that scar. He’s lucky that he’s our most prized asset or we would’ve already tossed his ass in a ditch or left him for the Riøt Squad to deal with.”

“Okay, she’s heard enough, let’s get on with it,” Cameron complains, gruffly crossing his arms and avoiding my gaze.

Nolan scoffs but resumes walking at a fast pace. I have to lengthen my steps just to keep up with the two of them. “How many squads are there?” I can’t imagine that there are very many; it would be harder to keep them a secret if there were several to keep track of.

“There are four elite active squads at the moment. Warsaw, Riøt, Fury, and Malum.” Nolan sounds like he’s on autopilot and lackadaisical in educating me on the matter. Cameron seems mentally checked out too, staring blankly at the soldiers doing workouts and chatting casually at the far end of the area.

I stare at Nolan expectantly. “Four teams for a reason?”

The general lets out a half laugh and explains, “Yes. Riøt is hands down the worst squad, and you should be grateful you’re not queued up for them. They are the ones we send in to snuff out traitors, runaways, or soldiers that have lost their usefulness. We keep them on the eastern side of the country. Warsaw is the A-team, sent to high-profile and society-set missions in big cities. They’re the most precise and detail-oriented.”

A few soldiers bump into my shoulder as they pass us and shoot glares at me. That’s probably not the last time that will happen. Cameron’s brows are pulled together, and he looks like he’s going to say something, but he only firms his lips before looking away.

Nolan doesn’t acknowledge the rude soldiers either and continues: “Malum is the squad that goes where no one else can or will go. Quite literally the last resort. Then you have Fury, the squad that we send to remote, highly dangerous places. Their missions are at the top of the boards in the Dark Forces. The success rate is one hundred percent and the death rate of the squad is 30 percent. The squad we send on suicide missions.”

My eyes shoot up to Nolan’s. He gives me a wry smirk.

“Let me guess,” I say in a vexed tone. “That’s my assigned squad.”

The way Nolan’s gaze lights up is sickening. “That’s correct, Maves. Most of the deaths aren’t even Mori’s.” He laughs at my stiffened expression. Cameron lets out a deeply irritated sigh.

Thirty percent death rate? I chew on my lower lip. Those odds aren’t good considering I have to worry about Cameron too, who’s already promised to kill me later. I can’t determine if he actually wants to spare me or if he just enjoys dragging things out for his victims.

Nolan leads us to the end of a long hallway where an emergency stairwell is located. We descend several stories, at the bottom of which a black metal door awaits. My legs are basically jelly from the ten flights of stairs.

I wasn’t aware buildings could even be built this deep into the earth. Each level we pass makes the knot in my throat grow.

General Nolan pulls a card from his pocket and scans the back of it. The color on the panel goes from red to green and then a loud locking mechanism shifts. Nolan opens the door and motions for me and Cameron to walk ahead of him.

We step inside the doorway and enter a small middle chamber. About ten feet away is another identical ebony door. Nolan shuts the first one and makes sure it’s locked before heading to the next.

Damn, the security is high. It makes me a little nervous about what’s waiting inside. Cameron has his hands shoved in his sweatpants pockets and doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. He’s already been through boot camp before, so it makes sense that he’s not anxious, but it’s still unsettling that he’s not even a little worried.

As the heavy door opens, I’m instantly overcome by the sheer size of this underground facility. The ceiling is at least forty feet tall with huge steel beams running across for support. Armed soldiers are sprinkled around the room in no particular order, but all of their eyes are locked on the cadets dressed in tactical uniforms in the center of the room. The walls are white, and the arena we’ve just stepped into is lit up like a prison. Since we’re all heinous criminals, it’s fitting that this is like a prison with high security doors and guards standing by.

“Wow. When you said underground forces, you literally meant underground,” I say in a sarcastic tone. My mood is foul this morning, credit to the psycho I had to share a cell with.

Cameron smirks at my remark, but General Nolan doesn’t find it as funny. He lets out a grunt and crosses his arms as he looks out over the sea of bodies doing warm-up exercises in the center of the arena. “We call this place the Under and if you like that play on words, wait until you see how dark it gets down here too,” Nolan drawls, winking at me with no smile. Jesus.

I take a deep breath and focus on the cadets dressed in black and dark gray camo. Names are printed on the badges over their chests, but we’re too far away to read them even as we pass by.

“How long will we be spending in boot camp?” I ask. An unsettling feeling of doom sinks into my chest as eyes follow us from across the arena. I really don’t want to attract any unwanted attention from the others, so I keep my head down.

Nolan takes a sharp turn at a door near the center of the arena and leads us down a long hallway, only stopping when we reach a huge room filled with twin-size cots and mattresses.

“You’re arriving near the end of the ninety-day course, so you’ll both be heading to the trials in a few weeks at most. I suggest making a few friends if you want to have your odds of surviving higher than 5 percent. Things get a little…ruthless down here.” He must find this amusing because a nasty smile curls his lips.

Cameron groans. “I mean, I’ll have to keep her safe if I want to get back to my squad, so I don’t think we need any friends.” He sounds as enthused about this as I feel.

“This one is yours,” the general mumbles, ignoring Mori.

I try to memorize the twin bed Nolan nods to. It’s near the back of the room, close to the bathrooms. Small name plates are at the foot of each one. Nolan snatches the one currently there and shoves it in his pocket before I can read it.

“What about him?” I hike my thumb back into Cameron’s chest, and he lets out an ungrateful grunt.

Nolan’s eyes darken and he grins. “Sharing is caring, Cadet Maves.”

Sharing? A bed? With Mori of all people… I pinch my thigh to keep the curse words streaming through my head from coming out.

There are more important things to focus on. “Gets ruthless how?” I level Nolan an impatient look.

The general starts walking out the way we came, but mutters as I stare at the back of his head, “The underground soldiers don’t have many rules to abide by, so deaths are common, bullying is prevalent, harassment, you name it. You need to be able to hold your own down here”—he lifts his arm and points to the cement ceiling—“to make it up there. Best of luck to you two.”

I watch him leave, sit on the edge of the bed, and then take a deep breath. Cameron settles on the opposite side of the bed and doesn’t say a word. The gravity of my situation is finally starting to weave its way into me. I shut my eyes.

I deserve this. I picture all of the people I brutally murdered. What about all the people who deserve it more, though? Like Greg Mavestelli and Reed? I deflate at the spiteful thoughts. I’ve never been one to beat a dead horse. What’s done is done.

When my eyes open again, I feel slightly re-centered.

I’m down here for a reason, because I belong with others like me. This is my second chance. Think on the bright side. Isn’t that what all the positivity influencers shout about? What are the bright sides of things down here? My eyes traitorously shift toward Cameron’s fit physique. There’s one.

About four minutes pass before a crowd of cadets funnel into the room. Their eyes catch on Cameron and me quickly. I hold my breath at the sheer unwelcome feeling that rolls off their shoulders.

One of them walks ahead of the rest. His hair is dyed crimson red, skin is pale, eyes a haunting dark brown that nears black. He looks my age, maybe a year older. I swallow the knot in my throat as he walks confidently toward us. His stride is as intimidating as his thick, furrowed brows are. A bloody bandage is wrapped around his neck, thickest where his carotid artery lies. It looks like someone tried to kill him literally ten minutes ago. My eyes widen as I realize Nolan wasn’t joking about how things are run down here.

Shit, don’t tell me his name was on the plaque Nolan took. I brace myself for a potential fight.

“What are you two doing on my bed?” he shouts. I stand slowly, hands clenched at my sides.

“General Nolan said this was mine,” I say calmly. The man lifts a brow and looks behind me at Cameron. “Ours,” I correct. Sweat beads down my forehead with all the eyes on us. Ruthless glares of fellow killers.

Nolan did this on purpose, stirring the pot with another cadet and making me share a bed with Mori. Prick.

The young man smiles. It takes me by surprise how sinister it is. I mean, it’s just a fucking bed. I harden my stare, he shouldn’t take me as some pushover.

He leans closer to me as he murmurs, “Then Nolan has just given you a world-class fuck you. There are no free beds right now. I guess that means you two will be sleeping on the floor.”

Cameron watches with mild interest, but even then, his cold expression is chilling. He’s one person I’d hate to pick a fight with.

My pulse increases and my cheeks warm as the other cadets chuckle among themselves on my behalf. “You expect us to sleep on the floor?” I snap at him and he flinches. Probably surprised that I’m not going to lie down and die just because he tells me to.

Curiosity flickers across his gaze, but he quickly shifts it back to a glare as he looks at the ground. “You wouldn’t be the first, you little brat. Here, I’ll help you.” He grabs my wrist and tries dragging me to the floor.

I should be reasonable and try to not go straight to violence, but the way he’s acting puts a seed of hatred deep inside my heart and my fist is already swinging before I realize it.

I deck him straight across the cheek. His head is thrown to the side, but he remains standing. My eyes widen as he takes a moment to collect himself before wiping his lip and bringing those dark eyes back to mine.

“That was dirty,” he sneers. The others start to circle around us, eager for a fight. A young woman comes up behind him and touches his shoulder softly.

“Damian, are you okay?” Her voice is delicate, but she turns hostile eyes on me. Her hair is dark and braided tightly with beautiful golden bands woven throughout.

I throw them a shrug and cross my arms. “Still think we’re sleeping on the floor?” I ask smoothly. The corners of Cameron’s lips curve up. The woman curses before charging at me and throwing her arm up for a punch. I sidestep and hit her in the ribs hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

Cameron watches her fall to the ground apathetically, then his gaze slides back to mine. A flicker of interest races behind those cynical eyes.

Damian sneers at me. “How about we spar for the bed then, since you’re feeling like showing off?” His voice has a curl of malice to it. He’s almost as tall as Cameron is. I’d be an idiot to accept his challenge, but everyone is watching. So I nod.

He cracks his knuckles and laughs. “Such a dumb bitch.”

My teeth dig into my lower lip as rage takes over. “Call me a bitch again, I fucking dare you.” He must see the hint of batshit crazy in my eyes because he holds his tongue as he nods to the arena.

Cameron interjects, standing in one smooth motion and slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ll spar with you. It’s only fair since she’s already punched you.” His tone is low and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Damian assesses him and laughs. “I’ll take you both on. You look wimpier than her.”

A wicked smile draws Cameron’s lips up. I think this guy just signed his own death certificate.

Nolan said to make friends, but we’ve already made two enemies.