Page 6 of Breakaway

Tobias makes a noncommittal sound, then adds, “It’s time to go.”

“Go where?” I press, lifting Hudson as I rush to follow.

“There’s going to be a Retribution today.” His unexpected reply stops me in my tracks.

“What?” I voice my confusion aloud, completely disregarding my position and who I’m speaking to.

“You heard me the first time, Andilyn. Do not make me repeat myself.” I stumble after him, my throat growing tighter by the second as I sputter a nonsensical reply. Tobias spins around to face me, his looming form bringing me up short.

“Shouldn’t I stay behind with Hudson?” I appeal, hoping my tone doesn’t reveal the true depth of fear I’m suddenly overcome with.

“Why would you?” Tobias tilts his head to the side, portraying the perfect embodiment of perplexity, but we both know it’s only a ruse.

Without another word, he resumes walking, forcing me to follow or face the consequences. Without realizing it, I’ve gripped Hudson tighter. My stomach twists when I think of what he’ll see and hear. Retributions come in many forms, and to say the Elders have gotten creative with their punishments over the years would be a gross understatement. I’ve witnessed heinous things, and no amount of time will ever erase the images seared into my psyche. When Tobias leads us to the back quadrant, past the cattle and pig pens, my heart sinks to the soles of my feet.

Already seated, the other Tainted are situated on the left while members of Veritas are to the right. Dug out beneath us is a labyrinth of concrete corridors and dirt, and from our slightly elevated position, there’s nothing we can’t see. Of all Retributions, this is by far the worst. There’s no winner, just pain and suffering. The Gauntlet was crafted for the most tenacious offenders, the ones whose backbones remain intact. If they can’t break their spirit, they’ll break their body. As I take my place next to Ada, Tobias reaches for Hudson. He clings to me, but he’s no match for a fully grown man who’s intent on separating us.

“Tobias,” I whisper beseechingly. “Please.”

“Mind your place, woman.” Dismissing my concerns, he strides away, forcing Hudson to sit alone. As a way to instill obedience at a young age, the smallest Tainted are made to observe Retributions from the front row. My breathing grows shallow as Tobias abandons him and steps before the crowd, the arrogance wafting off of him so potent, I nearly choke on it.

“My father is too ill to be here, so I’ll be presiding over today’s Retribution.” Based on the slight murmur of dissent from the members positioned opposite us, Kennedy’s absence won’t go without question. He’s missed too much for his ailment to be nothing more than a common cold. “I bring before you Marshall Wetherby and Catalina Carver, guilty of fraternization.”

Shock washes over me, my mind unable to comprehend why they’d take a risk that carries such an exorbitantly high price tag. They were stupid to think they could get away with such blatant disrespect, but so was I once. Tobias’ hypocrisy knows no bounds. We were doing far worse before my Claiming, and he never felt his actions were deserving of any consequences. And yet he stands before his people, eager to dish out their punishment, despite their transgressions being trivial compared to his.

“To right your wrongs, you’ll run The Gauntlet. Flesh for flesh is your penance. Do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?” Tobias defers to the two teenagers, but Marshall’s manic cackle steals the show. My eyes widen, wishing I could shake some sense into him. He’s only been here a few months, but he’s a street kid who’s grown used to fighting his way out of hairy situations.

“You’re fucking insane!!” Marshall shouts, his hands raised proudly as he flips Tobias off. “Your god is fake, and if I were an actual demon, I’d have razed this place by now.”

His chest heaves with every word, but he has no idea what he’s done. The girl beside him, Catalina, has gone white as a ghost. She’s been here longer and understands the gravity of his disrespect. When Tobias asked if they’d like to speak, it was only a formality. The only acceptable responses would have been an exaggerated apology or silence. He’s made it so much worse for both of them.

“Backslider,” Tobias hisses. “Your words are tantamount to apostasy. Is this your formal declaration?”

Please, please keep your mouth shut.

Marshall glares back angrily, but doesn’t make a sound. I doubt he’s ever heard the word, much less knows its meaning. As Tobias reads them the last of his poorly written script, two figureheads take their places atop the kennels. Positioned at each end, there’s nowhere to go. You either run towards the threat, or you wait for it to come to you. The clanking of steel startles me, and my eyes fly to Hudson. His tiny form is barely visible from where I’m standing.

Hungry growls ripple across the crowd, and when the doors lift, both dogs take off. Veritas dug deep when crafting this malevolent mockery. Sadly, their cruelty doesn’t end with us. Every animal they come across with heterochromia is either killed on the spot or collected to serve a greater purpose. Without the intellect humans possess, they don’t see a point in salvaging their soul, but they certainly have a preference for canines. They’re caged, starved, and never allowed an ounce of affection. Trapping them in such a hostile environment breeds the perfect weapon for Veritas to use at their disposal.

Marshall’s head whips back and forth, searching each direction, but the sounds alone let him know the dogs are nearly upon him. He pushes Catalina behind him, pressing her against the concrete wall. His gesture is noble, but it’s only going to bring her more pain in the long run. The calculated smirk that stretches across Tobias’ face makes it clear what his intentions are. As the dogs round the last corner, their snapping and barking only escalate when they catch sight of a possible food source.

Crouching low to the ground, they train their focus on their prey, taking turns edging closer until they’ve pinned them from both sides. At the first leap, Marshall does his best to counter the attack. His forearm connects with one of their throats, but the momentary tussle leaves Catalina free of protection. The second dog uses the opening to his advantage, clamping his jaw around her shin.

It’s nauseating, the crunch of bone and cartilage. Her scream pierces the air, causing Marshall to turn his back on his own fight. It’s an all-out bloodbath from that point. Hudson’s terrified cries make my jaw clench, but if I so much as move a muscle, I’ll be running The Gauntlet, too. It feels like ages pass before Tobias activates the stun collar on the dog that’s attacking Marshall. His body is littered with bites, but now the true punishment begins.

With his strength evaporated, he’s forced to lie there, bloody and trembling from the pain as Catalina continues to be ravaged. It’s only a few seconds more, but without the accompaniment of his own screams, hers are amplified. The calculated move is meant to remind him that anything—especially the things you love and care about—will be used to bend and break you. That particular ruthlessness is one of the many reasons why I’ve refused to bear a child for Tobias. It’s hard enough trying to keep my own head above water without constantly fearing for a far more fragile life.

Once the dogs are restrained, two figureheads move in to cart them off to their kennels, where they’ll be left to rot in their own filth until they're needed again. It’s a vicious cycle with no end in sight. Marshall and Catalina are taken to the infirmary, where their wounds will be given a cursory examination. They’ll stitch the ones that need it and pump them full of antibiotics to ward off any infections. Tomorrow, it’ll be like nothing ever happened.

Forgoing a proper dismissal, I rush to Hudson, who’s inconsolable, his tear-streaked face contorted with terror. He clings to me, burrowing his face against my neck. As Tobias drones on about the sanctity of remaining pure and untouched, I blank my thoughts and softly stroke the curls at the nape of Hudson’s neck. I sense her before I see her, like a low-hanging storm cloud preparing to drench the earth with its wrath. The hairs along my arms stand to attention, but I strive my hardest to appear nonplussed by her closeness.

“Your disrespect will be the end of you, girl. Tobias could have chosen any Tainted he liked, but you somehow dug your claws in and pulled the wool over his eyes. He might be blind to your wickedness, but I see right through you. Your feigned submission won’t cut it forever, and The Divine as my witness, I’ll see you hanged in The Atrium if your subordination persists.” Ada’s threat rolls over me, dread invading my veins at the possibility she has legitimate proof of my deceit, or if it’s simply an educated guess she can’t confirm.

I want to blame her for going along with this fatuous narrative, but she genuinely believes that Veritas’ indoctrination methods have merit. She’s the product of an expertly executed brainwashing that spans generations, and her unfailing loyalty only solidifies their beliefs. Ada delights in being paraded before the Tainted as a show of what their subservience can result in. She’s too far gone to reason with, and any hopes I had of forging a kinship with her were dashed long ago.

As Tobias releases us, he ends his speech the same as Kennedy would, adding, “Watchful is the eye…”

“And the eye is thee,” I whisper in unison with the crowd's reply.