Chapter 1

The Good Rebel

Echo padded silently through the woods. Early-morning sunrays streamed through tree trunks and leaves, dissipating the mist and clearing the forest floor for signs of prey. Echo was after rabbits. Quiet as the mist, he stalked close. It was necessary, as his aim wasn’t as good as other hunters. But stealth, he could manage quite well.

He pulled back on the bowstring, lined up his target, and let the arrow loose. The rabbit fell, a small but appreciated addition to the compound’s food store. Echo reclaimed the arrow and put the rabbit in his canvas sack. He had several now, enough for his quota, so he carried on the path to the lakeshore.

Once at the little makeshift field dressing station, Echo set about cleaning his quarry. This part suited his knife skills better, and his hunting partner was more than happy to let him handle it. Snapping twigs and shuffling leaves alerted Echo as Cross emerged from the tree line. Her canvas sack was much larger, the show-off.

Cross grimaced as she dropped her sack next to Echo. He was working on the delicate process of removing the skin without tearing it.

“That’s so gross,” she said, taking a seat on a moss-covered log.

“You’ve seen a vampire’s head cleaved clean off, and this is gross?”

Cross laughed, stretching out her legs. She began fiddling with the end of her long blond braid, a life-long habit. “Well, all bloodsuckers deserve to die. I feel worse killing the cute little bunnies.”

Echo hummed in response, laying the pelt on the log beside Cross. Yes, all vampires deserved to die—he’d been told as much since the age of four. It didn’t matter if they appeared human; Axel always said to never overlook the monster within. Hesitation was unacceptable when it came to killing vamps.

Echo shivered despite the already balmy Texas air. He drank some of the lake water from his waterskin before continuing his task.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Cross asked.

Before Echo could lie that he was, another figure approached.

“He will be,” Axel said, voice low and absolute as his boots crunched over the pebbly lakeshore.

Echo stiffened but quickly forced himself to relax. He focused on his knife cuts, the mindless job before him. Axel rested his heavy hand on Echo’s back, and he stilled.

“The training field tonight, Echo,” Axel commanded, adding slight pressure to a place he knew was tender.

Echo nodded, trying to hold back his body’s response to the tiny frisson of pain. “Yes, sir.”

Cross looked away toward the lake, her fingers tightening around her hair.

“Looks like a successful hunt this morning,” Axel commented, finally releasing Echo.

“Yes, sir,” Cross said, trying to sound light. “We’re in for Winny’s rabbit stew.”

“The woman’s a good cook. I’ll give her that. Never could make her useful in the field.”

Cross tried to laugh it off. “Well, I, for one, appreciate her talents. It’s no easy thing feeding all of us.”

“I suppose,” Axel said, already making his way toward the path to the compound. “I’ll see you tonight, Echo.”

Echo nodded again, staring down at the pitiful dead creature under his knife.

“Goodbye, sir,” Cross said. And then their team leader disappeared into the woods. Cross turned back to Echo. “Do you have to go tonight?”

“You know I do.”

She frowned.

They’d been friends for as long as Echo could remember, before that even. Cross was one of the children rescued from the breeding facility along with Echo. They’d both been assigned team-ranked names not so long ago, but she would always be little Lily to him. Once, Echo suspected she’d harbored stronger feelings for him. But that was before she walked in on one of Axel’s “training sessions.”

From her stricken, horror-filled gaze, Echo could tell she hadn’t understood—that Echo needed what Axel did to him.

Pain could be grounding. Pain could wash away doubts and hesitancy. Pain could make Echo into the good rebel he was meant to be.

Cross set aside her concern. She couldn’t go up against their team leader anyway. “Let me help,” she said, pulling the rabbits from her sack. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get breakfast. Winny said she got in a fresh batch of honey.”

Echo smiled, and they worked together, Echo doing the really “icky” stuff for Cross’s sake. When they finally finished cleaning the area so as not to attract the occasional mountain lion or pack of wild dogs, the pair hauled their kill down the path to the compound.

The rebel compound sat nestled in thick forest about fifty miles outside Houston. Huge canvas tents and crude wooden structures were scattered amongst the trees. Every once in a while, they’d pack up and seek out a new location. The vampires weren’t actively searching them out, but they wouldn’t dare get too comfortable.

Axel warned that the vampires would someday regret underestimating humans. And Echo supposed tomorrow’s mission—should it be successful—would prove what the rebellion was really capable of.

And they would succeed. Echo adjusted his grip on the sack. He would earn the right to his rank and name. Earn Axel’s acknowledgment—maybe even his approval.

Echo and Cross walked up to the large pavilion, a covered area where Winny cooked and everyone ate. The scent of baking bread wafted from the brick ovens, and Winny stood over a table chopping potatoes and carrots likely meant for the rabbit stew.

“Did you get enough?” Winny sharply asked, not lifting her eyes from the vegetables.

Cross dropped her sack on the other side of the table, the thud letting Winny know the answer to her question.

Winny finally looked at them, a small smile playing on her typically severe lips. Winny ran a tight ship in her “kitchen.” She may not have turned out a fighter as Axel wanted, but her knife skills rivaled Echo’s, and no one dared test it.

However, she had a soft spot for Cross, as did most everyone. “Can always count on you,” Winny laughed. She pushed over a plate of sliced bread and honey. “Help yourselves to extra, dears. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, Winn,” Cross said, taking the plate and heading to another table with Echo.

They could be considered opposites, Cross and Echo. She was sunshine-bright radiance, warming everyone up, even when she befriended one as quiet and somber as Echo had always been.

“Echo, hun,” Winny called just as he was about to sit down, “don’t forget your supplements.”

He hadn’t forgotten; he’d just hoped Winny had. But after taking the large capsules from Winny every day since he was eighteen, it was foolish to hope.

Echo sighed inwardly and went over to the cupboard, grabbed the jar, and shook out two capsules, each the size of a blackberry.

At eighteen, rebels still took the blood test. They’d managed to steal the technology, and their own doctors could accurately pinpoint the blood rating that vampires so valued. It was good to know what kind of risk they took on their missions—how desirable they might be to the bloodsuckers should they be captured.

Echo rated at an 85. He was a solid highblood, which hadn’t been a surprise considering he came from a breeding facility. Cross was also a highblood. But aside from his rating, the test also revealed Echo’s anemia, and he’d been taking supplements ever since, for two years now.

Echo swallowed the capsules quickly, then drank from his waterskin to wash away the unpleasant metallic taste.

Honestly, he felt no different from before he started taking the supplements, but he couldn’t argue against command. If someone of A-rank gave an order, you obeyed. And it was the compound leader, Able, who had taken an interest in Echo’s anemia, unwilling to let one of his potential fighters be weakened by a mere iron deficiency. So Echo took the capsules.

He placed the jar back in the cupboard and rejoined Cross. She’d already slathered honey over a thick slice of bread for him, and together, they greedily ate their share of the sticky golden goodness.

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It was night now, and Echo trudged along the moonlit path leading to the training field. It was a good fifteen minutes walk from the compound. Anticipation and apprehension battled for dominance in Echo’s head. He reminded himself that he needed this to be at his best for tomorrow’s mission.

He focused on the mission objective, the task given to him: kill Dante Vittori.

Rebel command had honored Echo by assigning him the critical part of the mission. Axel had trained him for years for this very thing. Dante Vittori was the head of slave trading in the Bauer Territory—the legal and illegal kind. They’d all heard of the masses of stolen slaves near the borders. And the rebel spies had reported that most wound up at the Houston docks, shipped away in metal containers. Undocumented stolen slaves could be sold more easily on the black market. And these slaves often ended up dead, drained of all blood.

Axel said all vampires craved to drink until the point of death. And the wealthy, noble vamps had enough money and power to skirt around the law to satisfy those monstrous desires.

Dante Vittori could be considered the worst monster of all, profiting from such death and torture.

Echo came upon a clearing, and the training field stretched before him, awash in silver moonlight. Axel stood in the center, the whip hanging from the looped holster on his belt.

Echo tied up his long black hair, letting the strands fall forward over his shoulder and out of the way of his back. Then he walked across the grassy field. He needed this, yes. Axel would ensure that Echo would not fail.