Everyone gradually began leaving the training ground, most of them heading back to their rooms to pack for the upcoming holiday.
The excitement of the championship had finally started to settle, although the conversations around me clearly hadn't. I could still hear people discussing the match, arguing about who had performed better and, of course, praising the general for maintaining his undefeated record.
Congratulations to him. His precious three-year glory for different competitions was safe.
What an achievement.
I was just about to leave when Jackson hurried toward me.
His face was bright with excitement.
"Wow," he said. "You were incredible. Seriously. When are you getting the prize?"
I adjusted my grip on one of the guns before handing it back to the officer nearby.
"Thanks. The prize will be given later. I'll get it when we return from our holidays."
Jackson nodded before looking at me with a suspicious expression.
"You were great," he continued. "And honestly, if it weren't for our bet, I know you probably would've won."
My eyes immediately widened. Was he trying to get me killed?
Without thinking, I quickly placed my finger against his lips.
"Shhh!"
Jackson froze.
"Don't say that so loudly," I whispered. "What if he hears you and asks for a rematch? This stays between you and me, okay?"
I slowly removed my finger.
Jackson immediately made a face and began gesturing toward it.
"What?" I asked.
He pointed at my finger.
Then at his mouth.
Then made a biting motion.
I stared at him.
"Are you seriously threatening to eat my finger?"
He nodded.
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're weird."
"You put your finger on my mouth."
"That was an emergency."
"That wasn't an emergency."
"It absolutely was."
Before Jackson could argue again, a voice spoke from behind us.
"What exactly is between you and him?"
Both of us froze.
Slowly, we turned around.
Logan Hawk was standing only a few steps away.
Wide-eyed, Jackson and I looked at each other.
How had neither of us noticed him? More importantly... How much had he heard?
Please let him have arrived only ten seconds ago.
Please.
"There's nothing between us, General," I answered immediately.
Too immediately.
The words practically jumped out of my mouth before I had the chance to think about them. For a moment, I wondered where I had found the courage to answer him so quickly.
Then I looked up.
The general wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Jackson.
Jackson, unfortunately, seemed to have realized that the general's attention had shifted entirely toward him.
And Mr. General was not looking at him kindly. Not even slightly.
The silence stretched. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Jackson slowly stopped smiling.
I stood there awkwardly, watching him glare at Jackson.
What exactly had Jackson done?
Cheered for me?
Made a bet with me?
Almost eaten my finger?
Logan continued staring at him for what felt like an entire minute.
Jackson, who had been perfectly comfortable arguing with me moments ago, now looked as though he had suddenly remembered every mistake he had ever made in his life.
Finally, the general looked away. Without saying another word, he turned around and walked off.
Jackson and I watched him leave. We remained completely silent until he was far enough away. Then I turned toward Jackson.
After making absolutely sure that no one else was nearby, I frowned.
"What exactly is his problem?"
Jackson looked at me.
Then in the direction the general had disappeared.
Then back at me.
"I don't know," he said slowly.
I crossed my arms. "He's weird."
Jackson sighed.
"I think your general just doesn't like me."
I immediately pointed toward myself. "My general?"
He shrugged.
"He's your problem, not mine."
I gasped. "What kind of friend are you?"
"The kind who wants to survive."
I stared at him for a few seconds. Then sighed. Fair enough.
Now why is he smiling? How can he smile after receiving that glare?
"How can you still smile after that?"
Jackson sighed, "Because I know what he's feeling and why he did that. Actually an assumption."
"Really? What do you know by the way?"
"Nothing much, but I'm having feelings that I'm getting myself introduced in his eyes as a rival." He looked everywhere except in my direction.
"Come again. I didn't get you."
"Nothing. I'll tell you some other time or day."
I really hate cliffhangers, but I can't force it out from him. Can I?
We finally began walking away from the training ground; one question continued bothering me.
Why did he sound so interested in finding out what exactly was between us?
Not that there was anything.
Obviously.
There was absolutely nothing between Jackson and me.
Nothing.
And I definitely wasn't going to think about why the general had seemed so displeased about that conversation.
Absolutely not.
I had packing to do. That was a much safer problem to deal with. I was done with it, though.
"Have you finished packing?"
"Yes."
Of course I had.
I had been waiting for this holiday ever since we were told about it. In less than a day, I would finally be going home.
And more importantly, I would get to see my brother.
Just thinking about it made me want to pack my things all over again, even though there was absolutely nothing left to pack.
"What about you?" I asked.
"Just half of it is left."
I narrowed my eyes. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Your tone says otherwise."
He looked away.
I waited.
A few seconds passed.
Then he sighed. "Okay. I haven't packed anything."
I stared at him. "Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Impressive," I smiled.
"I know."
I sighed, "Fine. Let me help."
Jackson looked at me.
"You?"
"Yes, me."
"Why?"
That was a good question.
The truth was, I wanted to know what he thought about the general.
Ever since Logan had appeared behind us earlier, asked what was between Jackson and me, and then proceeded to stare at Jackson as if he were considering whether murder was acceptable during a holiday, Jackson hadn't said a single thing about it.
And that bothered me. Maybe he had understood something. Maybe he knew something about Logan.
Or maybe... Maybe I was simply curious. Either way, I followed him to his room.
I was not the kind of person who voluntarily helped someone pack. Actually, I was usually the person waiting for someone else to help me pack. So this was a rare moment of generosity.
Jackson opened his bag and began throwing clothes into it.
I stared.
Once.
Twice.
Then I couldn't take it anymore.
"Hey!"
He looked at me.
"What?"
"Don't put them like that."
"Like what?"
I pointed toward the pile of clothes.
"It looks like you fought with your wardrobe and lost."
Jackson looked inside the bag.
"It fits."
"That isn't the point."
"Then what is the point?"
"Give them to me."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Is this how you make other people do your work?"
"Yes." At least I was honest.
Jackson laughed and immediately handed me the entire pile.
I stared at him.
He had given them to me far too willingly.
"You were waiting for me to ask, weren't you?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"Probably."
I shook my head and sat on his bed.
One by one, I began folding the clothes properly before placing them inside the bag. I suck at this work, but I was conscious that I can't make it seem that I suck at something.
Shirts on one side. Pants underneath. Smaller things tucked into the empty spaces.
Jackson stood beside me, watching.
"You're oddly good at this."
"Am I? Don't get used to it."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
We continued packing.
Or rather, I continued packing while Jackson stood there and contributed absolutely nothing.
Eventually, I had placed almost everything inside the bag.
Then Jackson handed me one last thing.
A photograph.
"Put this in too."
I took it without paying much attention.
Then I looked down.
And froze.
At the top of the picture were two words written in bold, cheerful letters.
BEST FRIENDS
The photograph itself looked old.
But lively.
Two boys stood together in what looked like a garden.
One of them was Jackson.
He looked younger, with the same familiar face and that bright, charming smile I had recently started getting used to.
The other boy... My breath caught.
Rosen. My brother.
For a second, my mind stopped working.
No. Wait. What?
I looked at the picture again.
There was no mistake.
The garden behind them belonged to us, our home.
I knew that place. I had spent my entire life there.
And there they were.
Jackson and Rosen.
Standing beside each other.
Smiling. Looking genuinely happy.
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
How was this possible?
Jackson knew my brother?
Not just knew him.
They had been friends.
Best friends, apparently.
I slowly raised my head. Jackson was staring directly at me. And he wasn't smiling anymore. His expression had completely changed.
Serious.
Watchful.
As though he were looking for something on my face.
A reaction.
Recognition.
Anything.
My mind immediately began racing.
Did he recognize me?
Had he figured it out?
Was that why he had barely spoken to me when I first arrived?
And then... A memory suddenly surfaced.
Rosen had asked me something. Had anyone approached me?
At the time, I hadn't thought much about the question.
But now... Was he talking about Jackson?
Why hadn't my brother told me?
Why hadn't he mentioned that Jackson Woods had once been his best friend?
And more importantly...
If they had known each other years ago but were no longer friends, something must have happened between them.
Maybe they had lost contact.
Maybe they had fought.
Maybe Jackson had done something that had ended their friendship.
My eyes moved back to the photograph.
Jackson and Rosen looked happy. Genuinely happy.
Whatever had happened between them, this picture clearly meant something to Jackson.
He had kept it all these years.
Which meant... He hadn't forgotten my brother.
And if he remembered Rosen well enough to keep his childhood photograph, then there was a very real possibility that he could recognize the difference between Rosen and me.
I placed the photograph back into the bag.
Very carefully.
Then I stood.
"Um..."
Jackson's eyes remained fixed on me.
I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. "I just remembered something."
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
"What?"
"Something important."
"Like what?"
"I forgot to pack something."
That was the best excuse my brain could produce.
Amazing. Absolutely brilliant.
I smiled awkwardly.
"I should go get it ready."
Jackson continued staring at me.
For some reason, that made the entire situation even worse.
"Bye."
And before he could ask another question, I turned around and practically ran out of his room.
The moment I stepped into the hallway, I let out a breath.
What was that?
I walked quickly toward my room, my mind refusing to settle.
Could Jackson recognize that I wasn't Rosen? The possibility alone made me nervous. Rosen and I might look similar enough to fool strangers.
But Jackson wasn't a stranger. He had known him before. Possibly for years.
And I didn't even know about it. Why hadn't Brother told me?
The more I thought about it, the more his earlier question bothered me.
Did anyone approach you?
Was he asking about Jackson? Had he known Jackson would be here?
And if so... Why hadn't he warned me?
Maybe Jackson and Rosen had lost contact over the years.
That would explain why Jackson hadn't approached me immediately.
Perhaps he hadn't recognized me at first. Or maybe he had. Maybe that was why he had acted so strangely around me during those first few days.
But if Jackson already knew I wasn't Rosen... Why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he exposed me?
And considering how much Jackson still seemed to value that photograph, I couldn't help reaching one particular conclusion.
Did they have a fight? If yes... then maybe it had been Jackson's fault. Maybe he regretted whatever had happened between them. Maybe that was why he had kept the photograph. What am I thinking?
I stopped walking.
There was one fact I couldn't ignore.
Jackson knew Rosen.
Which meant there was a possibility...
A very dangerous possibility...
That he knew exactly who I was. And even if he did, he hadn't told anyone. Not the instructors. Not the trainees. And certainly not the general.
At least, not yet.
I looked back in the direction of his room.
Could I trust him?
That was the real question.
Because if Jackson had recognized me and had still kept my secret...
Then perhaps he wasn't my enemy.
But trusting someone in this place had never been easy.
Especially when that person had just looked at me as though he knew something I desperately hoped he didn't.
I sighed.
One thing was certain.
I needed to find out what had happened between Jackson and Rosen.
He knows Rosen, but he doesn't know who I am.
At least, that's what I kept telling myself.
Maybe he had only noticed the resemblance between us. Maybe that's why he hadn't said anything. Maybe he looked at me and saw someone who reminded him of an old friend, but nothing more.
But then... Did he know that I was Rosen's sister?
If he did, why hadn't he said anything?
It had been an entire month since I arrived here. Jackson had been around me this whole time, yet we had only started talking properly yesterday. If he knew who I was, why had he waited this long?
Sigh.
I was going to lose my mind if I kept thinking about it.
There was only one person who could answer my questions.
My brother. Rosen.
I would ask him.
After Logan Hawk, now Jackson Woods might know that I didn't belong here.
Two people. In only one month. And I still had two whole months left.
Fantastic.
At this rate, by the time my training ended, I might as well stand in the middle of the training ground and announce:
"Hello, everyone. I'm not Rosen. Surprise."
I needed to admit it.
No.
I had to admit it.
There was something wrong with my disguise. But what?
I had copied Rosen's mannerisms. I wore his type of clothes. I kept my hair short. I lowered my voice whenever I remembered to. There were hundreds of people here, and most of them hadn't noticed anything.
So why had Logan figured it out on the very first day? And now Jackson?
Was I really that bad at pretending to be my own brother?
Thinking about all of this, I didn't even realize when I reached my room.
I stopped in front of the door.
For a moment, I simply stared at it.
Then I pushed it open, stepped inside, and quickly locked it behind me.
Finally. Alone.
I dropped the small bag I wore and stretched my arms over my head.
My body had barely begun to relax when something made me freeze.
There was someone in my room.
Someone is sitting on my bed.
"Why so scared?"
My entire body stiffened.
Shit.
Logan Hawk was sitting on my bed.
Because apparently, the universe had decided that one Hawk per hour wasn't enough.
Rose, control yourself.
There was no reason to panic.
He already knew.
Whatever he wanted, he wouldn't get it just by staring at me.
"I'm not scared," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I just didn't expect anyone to be sitting in my room."
A smirk appeared on his face.
And not his usual irritating, almost amused smirk.
This one looked different.
Darker.
Sharper.
If I had to describe it honestly, it looked almost evil.
He had never looked at me like that before.
And for some reason, it scared me.
"Liar," he said.
I crossed my arms.
"I said I'm not scared."
"You look scared."
"Well, maybe you look scary."
His smirk widened slightly.
Great.
Wrong thing to say.
He leaned back against the bed.
"But if you're not scared, answer me."
Here we go again. His questions.
Why was this man physically incapable of minding his own business?
"Your last target," he continued. "Why wasn't it perfect like the others?"
My stomach tightened.
Of all the questions he could have asked...
That one.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do."
Of course I did. I had deliberately ruined that shot. The entire time, I had been competing against him while trying not to beat him.
I wanted him to win. Not easily. Absolutely not. I wasn't that generous.
But I didn't want to destroy his three-year undefeated record either.
Unfortunately, explaining that to Logan Hawk would be the equivalent of handing him a weapon and politely asking him to shoot me with it.
So instead, I came up with the most intelligent excuse my brain could produce.
"Something went into my eye."
Silence.
I immediately regretted it.
That was it? That was the best excuse I could come up with?
Something went into my eye?
Absolutely brilliant.
Logan slowly stood up.
My confidence, which had already been hanging by a thread, immediately disappeared.
He walked toward me.
One step.
Then another.
Why was he coming closer?
"Then let's have a rematch," he said.
What?
"No."
He continued walking toward me.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want one."
He stopped directly in front of me.
Too close. My back pressed against the door. There was nowhere to move.
I lifted my chin anyway. I refused to look weak in front of him.
"I'm telling you the truth," I said. "I don't want a rematch."
"I never said you were lying."
I blinked.
What?
"Then why are you interrogating me?"
"I'm asking you again."
His eyes narrowed.
"Why did you do that?"
Damn it.
My mouth always betrayed me before my brain had a chance to stop it.
"It shouldn't matter to you whether something went into my eye or whether I did it purposely."
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake.
His expression changed. Just slightly. But I noticed it.
His jaw tightened.
"What purpose could you possibly have?" Then he tilted his head. "Miss?"
That mocking tone.
Fine.
If he wanted to mock me, I could do the same.
"Why should I tell you, mister?"
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Logan laughed.
But there was nothing amused about it.
"You're disgusting."
My smile disappeared. What?
He stepped back, staring at me with an expression I couldn't understand.
"You tell me you love Rosen."
My heart stopped.
Then his eyes hardened.
"But you're spending your time with that District Nine boy."
His gaze moved toward the door before returning to me.
"Jackson."
I stared at him. Huh? "You're jealous?"
His expression immediately darkened.
Wrong question.
"You're two-faced."
My lips parted, but no words came out.
He actually thought that about me?
Logan scoffed.
"One person isn't enough for you?"
The words hit harder than they should have.
My throat tightened.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" His voice rose.
"I can never like someone like you."
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
The tears immediately burned behind my eyes.
But I refused.
No.
I wasn't going to cry. Not in front of him. Not after everything.
He took another step toward me and shoved me aside.
I stumbled.
Before I could regain my balance, his hand pushed against me again.
Harder. I fell to the floor.
The impact sent a sharp pain through my arm.
But strangely... That wasn't what hurt the most.
The way he looked at me did.
His rejection wouldn't feel like someone had reached inside my chest and twisted something that I didn't even know existed.
Logan looked down at me. Completely emotionless.
"I loved you."
My eyes lifted toward him.
My heart stopped again.
"But now I hate you."
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even understand what had just happened. Then his next words made everything inside me turn cold.
"Take this as a warning."
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
"District One is finally going to get what it has been waiting seven years for."
My breathing became shallow.
He continued.
"Seven years of waiting."
His red eyes fixed directly on mine.
"And in one week, it's finally going to end."
No.
He wasn't talking about the championship.
He wasn't talking about me.
He was talking about District Ten.
My head slowly dropped.
I couldn't let him see my eyes.
I couldn't let him see that I was terrified, even if it was for a moment.
This was my fault.
All of it.
I had pushed him.
I had lied.
And now...
Now he was threatening my district.
"Tell Rosen to wait," Logan said.
His voice became colder.
"District One is coming."
My fingers curled against the floor.
"And especially me."
My heart began pounding painfully against my chest.
I couldn't tell whether he was serious.
Please.
Let this be a joke.
A cruel, horrible joke.
"Don't look down."
I froze.
His voice had changed.
Not softer.
Just... different.
"Take care of yourself when you get home."
I looked up at him.
For the first time, there was something almost hesitant in his expression.
"Don't worry," he continued. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Then his face hardened again. "But I can't promise the same thing for your lover."
My blood went cold.
"Logan..."
But he had already turned away.
The door opened.
Then closed behind him.
And I was alone.
For several seconds, I didn't move.
I just sat there on the floor.
Staring at the door.
My heart was racing so violently that I could hear it in my ears.
Was he serious?
He had to be joking.
Right?
People didn't threaten entire districts because someone rejected them.
That wasn't normal.
Even for Logan Hawk.
Especially for someone who had been a general for three years.
But his eyes...
His voice...
There had been nothing joking about either of them.
I pushed myself off the floor.
My legs felt weak.
I looked at the clock.
Five minutes.
In five minutes, everyone would be allowed to leave for their respective districts.
I needed to get home.
I needed to speak to Uncle.
I pulled out my phone with trembling hands and immediately called him.
He answered after a few rings.
"Yes?"
I swallowed.
"Uncle."
My voice came out too quickly.
Too tense.
"How's everything there?"
There was a brief silence.
Then his voice became serious.
"Everything is fine. Under control."
He paused.
"But you don't sound right."
I can't tell yet.
"Is something wrong?"
I looked toward the door.
My stomach twisted.
I wanted to tell him everything.
I wanted to warn him.
But not on the phone.
What if Logan was listening? What if someone else heard? I couldn't take that risk.
"No," I said quickly. "Nothing's wrong."
Another pause.
"Are you sure?"
I closed my eyes.
"No," I thought.
But what I said was,
"Yes."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"I'll tell you when I get there."
Because something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
And for the first time since coming here...
I wasn't afraid of Logan Hawk because he knew my secret.
I was afraid of what he was going to do with it.