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I wouldn’t be who I am, raised by a single dad, spending years in Thailand while he worked undercover for the counter-trafficking unit while I spent more time on the streets of Bangkok than he knew about. I wouldn’t have learned what I did in the mountains of Pennsylvania where we moved before the Change. I definitely wouldn’t have grown up among men, taught to think like them, fight like them, be ahead of them. I wouldn’t have been ready for this. For Zion.
There is no point in thinking about the way life would’ve gone if Mom was still alive.
“Tragedies break us, temper us like metal, and take us on a path we are meant to be on.”Mom’s words.
“I am proud of you, kiddo,” Dad says, finally letting me go. “You’ll be fine. You got this.”
I nod, breaking out a smile and saying, “Yeah,” overly cheerfully to hide my emotions.
Uncle narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah,” he mimics me too theatrically and gives me a brief hug. “Nothing funny, Kat. Okay? Be careful.”
I raise my palm, touching my fingers to my forehead in a theatrical military salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”
Both he and Dad snort and shake their heads, their lips stretching in a smile.
“And keep your eyes on the Chancellor at all times,” Uncle says.
“I got it.” I try not to roll my eyes again.
“If anything happens, if you find yourself in a rough situation you can’t get out of, you find a way to get in contact with us.”
I cock a brow. “And?”
The island is off-limits to the public, so I am curious about what he’d do.
Uncle’s gaze gets a tad harsher. “We’ll find a way to come get you.”
Dad wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me toward him and kissing the top of my head. “Go,” he says softly.
I walk away, feeling taller than the Empire State building.
There is so much ahead.
Life is unpredictable.
Right now, it’s taking me to the most rumored island in the Atlantic.
I’ll meet Archer Crone, the King of Zion.
I can’t wait.
Hopefully, I find Milena Tsariuk. Our future depends on it.
I got this.
My heart beats wildly as I give my papers yet to another guard at the doors to the Transfer Center and smile wide as I step inside.
Mr. Chancellor, here I come.
ARCHER
NOW / ZION ISLAND
When a hundred of us,the elites of Deene University, chugged expensive booze on Zion Island during that fateful Spring Break two years ago, the world exploded in a nuclear war.
While we dove off our fancy yachts and floated in infinity pools, the powerful military nations pressed the red buttons.
We showered each other with champagne to the deafening sound of electronic music while the first missiles hit the Western cities, wiping millions off the face of the earth.
