Tad.
Istvan had his arms tied and gagged to prevent the Druid from chanting or doing any spells.
Before I could even take it in, I saw Istvan lean down, lifting something up from below the railing, a mop of black hair and blue-green eyes.
“NOOOO!” Warwick boomed, his voice bouncing and cracking against the walls, ringing the arena in his rage, lurching forward.
Istvan perched Simon on his hip, holding the boy awkwardly, as if he had no idea what to do with children. He ran his fingers down the boy’s tear-streaked cheek.
“I wouldn’t, Farkas.” Istvan’s tone stopped Warwick in his tracks. “They are so fragile at this age. So easily hurt.”
“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Warwick grunted through his teeth, every syllable a warning.
“That’s up to you now, isn’t it?” Istvan’s challenging threat very clear. “This is such an impressionable age. He might make a good HDF soldier with the right guidance and family. Since he seems to be an orphan now.” Istvan’s insinuation about Eliza’s fate was clear.
Warwick heaved with rage, his body twitching with the need to destroy. To attack the threat on his family.
“I want my uncle Warwick.” Simon wiggled and fussed, trying to get away from Istvan.
Istvan set him down. “Your uncle has done bad things. Do you know what happens when you do bad things? You get punished.”
Simon glared at Istvan, moving closer to Tad. Tad put his arm around him, pulling him into him, letting Simon hide in his robes. Only then did I feel a minuscule bit of reprieve from Warwick. It didn’t lessen the threat, but I felt better knowing Tad was with him. Simon wasn’t completely alone up there.
The shock of seeing them was weaning, letting logic settle in, filling my head with the notion they had been caught and what it meant.
“Oh, gods…” Oxygen slipped from my lungs, whirling my head. “You got in.” My voice barely made it out, sticking on the dry patches in my throat.
Istvan’s superior smile zeroed in on me poignantly. “We walked right in.”
My lids fluttered, dark spots seeping into my vision.
“It means those barriers keeping fae out and dissuading humans from going there don’t apply to Istvan’s new soldiers. They can walk right in.”
He had heard me.
“H-How?”
“Not how.” His lip curled with arrogance, cruelty glinting his eyes. “But who.”
He turned his head as Tad and Simon were pushed farther back, and a man in a new HDF uniform stepped forward, his spine straight with proud arrogance, his eye puffy with a deep healing bruise.
A long gasp tore from my throat.
“Holy fuck,” Lukas exclaimed behind me.
Both of us gaping, my brain struggled to climb over this hurdle, to accept what I was seeing. Connecting the dots that led me to who was standing up on the balcony with Istvan.
Tracker.
He peered down at me, a hint of a sneer on his mouth.
“I-I don’t understand.” I did, but I didn’t want to believe it.
“What better way to get information from you than send in someone you trust. Especially feeling guilty for leaving him to die.” He patted Tracker’s arm. “Tracker here has been quite an asset to HDF. Though he hasn’t been with us long, his initiative and devotion to the cause have made him one of my most valuable soldiers.” Istvan’s words had Tracker beaming with pride. “It was his idea to be put in here and in the hole with you, to get all the information he could. It was his idea to look authentic.” Istvan nodded to Tracker’s bruised eye.
My attention darted to Tracker as he self-righteously smiled down at me. Little moments came back to me, like the guard calling him by his first name. They didn’t usually do that, especially with someone like Tracker. He’d only be known by his number. And how he suddenly needed to go to the bathroom.
“What’s strange, besides the bizarre dreams of being in some water tank, is waking from my coma. I’ve never felt better in my life.” I had never caught on. Only the rich were put into the tanks. Especially not some ex-Povstat elite, unless Istvan had plans for him. Hanna didn’t even get that treatment.
“Friends are never as faithful as a person whose whole world is in your hands.”
My lids shut for a moment, going back to the moment he stepped into this prison. It had all been a lie. A setup. Every conversation had been to get information from me. He had been a spy for Istvan all along. Tracker was a prime candidate to flip—arrogant, angry, inferiority complex, lost, and feeling betrayed. Istvan swept in and preyed upon that, giving him a leader to follow. A reason to blame and a reason to worship and be indebted to him. He made him equal to fae.
I had walked right into it, believing he was still loyal to Mykel.
“Zrádce!” Traitor! Lukas screamed in Czech. “You piece of shit! I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Lukas raged, Ash and Kek holding him back.
“I was shown the way. Awoken to the truth,” Tracker snapped back at Lukas. “Even your mother and brother see the truth. Maybe it’s you who is the traitor.”
“It didn’t take you long to be brainwashed. Though I’m not surprised, not like you were robust in that department anyway.” Kek jeered, her eyebrow cocking up in a knowing expression. “Upstairs or downstairs.”
Lukas and I both swung to look at her, and she shrugged one shoulder.
Oh, gods, I didn’t want to know.
“Shut the fuck up, demon,” Tracker snarled, ramming his body against the railing. Istvan put a hand up, and Tracker instantly stepped back, quickly obeying his new master.
“Tracker quickly saw how manipulated he had been before, saw the error of his ways, believing the false lies fae spouted about us all being equal as they murdered us in droves,” Istvan spoke down to us. “After his own group turned their backs on him, left him for dead in the streets, choosing fae over him, he now sees where his loyalties lie.”
“What about Ava? Didn’t you care about her? Sab? Blade? Jak and Lea?” Lukas listed off his comrades in the Povstat’s first unit. “Were we not your friends?”
“Friends?” Tracker huffed. “No. I realized we were never friends. And it didn’t go above my notice to see I was the only human in the entire squad. Mykel’s preference was very clear. And the only reason I was there was because I was the best out of all of you.”
“Now you are even better.” Istvan nodded at him, the same look on his face I recalled when he was pleased with Caden, making a bad taste slide down the back of my throat.
“It wouldn’t have been long before Mykel replaced me with more fae.” Tracker hissed out the final word like it was a foul taste on his tongue.
Tracker’s ego and sense of entitlement were prime for Istvan to warp and control. A perfect candidate to bend and mold. Shape into the image you wanted.
I would never bend.
“If you hate fae so much, why were you so willing to become one?” I fired at him.
“I will be even more powerful.” His chilling confidence prickled at my skin.
“That you will.” Istvan shared a knowing grin with him, and my stomach sank. “Great things are ahead of you.”