"Keep your arm steady, Cummins."

I blow a dark wisp of hair out of my face and toss Daniel a narrow-eyed look, one that actually meets its target.

Under the bright spotlights of the target range, it's easy to be intimidated. Wooden stalls separate each Clarifier from the designated targets, but it's a hodgepodge of noises and voices echoing around the room.

Another exhale, and then the knife flies through the air. It sticks with a grand plunk onto the target. Unfortunately, the blade nailed itself two rings away from the center.

"Don't forget to aim, darling," Daniel snickers. He takes a knife from my belt, which drags my hip close to him. Breezy cologne sweeps over me as his arm aims and launches the knife. Bullseye with a bang.

I roll my eyes and step away from him. Can't deny he smells good, but will deny letting him get away with being a jerk. "Cheater. You have more practice than I do."

He scoffs. "Go get your knives and try again."

I stare at him. "Aren't you going to ask nicely?"

His eyes size me up. "Now why would I do that?"

The strife ends with me fetching the knives. Once I return to his side, he laughs like a hyena. "Every knife that misses the target earns you a lap around the building."

I groan, but for the next two weeks, I have no choice but to run. Every knife that doesn't hit the board earns me a long, tiring run around the massive training building. After many days of aching arm muscles and panting lungs, I get the hang of it, and I'm throwing some bulls-eyes just like Daniel. Eventually.

The next day, Daniel sent me through a new course. Instead of shooting simple target while standing still, Daniel trains me in the new outdoor training area called the Stockyard. Due to its moving targets, rustic obstacles, and thirty-foot metal climbing levels, it's much more challenging.

By far it's my favorite training area. All the running, jumping, and climbing reminds me of being a kid again. Recesses spent playing tag or hanging onto monkey bars. When life was so much more simple and easy.

And as much as I hate to admit it, all of the training physically and mentally shapes me into a stronger person. The fearful-yet-feared person the States forced me to be dissolves into someone of strength, determination, and sarcasm. Lots of sarcasm.

Every time I say something sarcastic to Daniel, he forces me to run laps. Every time I pay his price, I assure myself it's a fair price to pay for irritating him.

After yet another round of name-calling I fire at Daniel, his inflated ego pops. "Enough already!"

"Geez," I say as I stifle a laugh with my hand. "Can't handle the heat?"

Daniel glares at me and scoops his frustrated hands through his light hair. My amusement force his legs to pace and his words to quicken. "You think that's funny, Cummins?"

"Yup." I smirk.

He cocks his head, outstretching his palm. "Then gimme your knives."

My grin fades. Daniel darts closer to me, reaching for my belt. I take three steps back and hug the handles in my holsters. "No way."

Daniel's coldness sends a shiver down my spine. "Hand it over, or you're thrown out of this base camp."

Can he do that? Will he? I hesitate. His dad's the commander, and he assigned me to train with his loving son. As much as I hate to admit it, I like training to be a Clarifier. I want to help the Renegades, since it's crystal-clear that the water here is free of Renegadea. It means the States have been lying and fear-mongering for far too long.

I don't know what would happen to me if Daniel reports me for insubordination. Maybe they'd send me back to the States? I don't want to go back there.

I hand over my knives and shrug out of my safety vest. Daniel tosses my gear onto the concrete. From his own holster, he whips out a taser gun.

Oh, shit. My sneakers stumble back from Daniel, my palms extending in self-defense.

Daniel's demented stare freezes my insides. "You wanna play dirty? Fine. Let's go." He brandishes his weapons. "If I hit you, then the sarcasm stops."

He takes a step toward me, swinging the taser to the far end of the Stockyard. "And if you manage to make it over that fence, then you can talk back to me all you want."

My eyes flip back and forth between Daniel and the fence. The wild eyes, the emboldened posture. Daniel turns into the Renegade I met in the agency interrogation room. Cruel and crazed.

"Ready?" Daniel asks with a laugh. I step back a few paces. No, I'm not ready! What on Earth is he even making me do right now? And why?

"Set?" he says, voice dropping low. He twirls the taser around his fingers, an evil grin spreading across his face.

My breath catches in my throat. No way am I getting shocked by that gun.

After a final revolution of the taser, I turn and bolt across the Stockyard in a zigzag pattern. My mind fires into survival mode. Unpredictable movement should mess up his aim. Don't corner myself, and don't stop moving.

The sun cooks my shoulder blades as the humidity stalls my lungs. Maybe swimming through the sticky air would be faster. Legs burn and knee ache as my shoes clap against concrete. I could cry. I can't go any faster.

Daniel's heavy feet beat like a wild stampede behind me. With a deafening bang, a bullet whizzes past my right ear. Bullets? He's using real bullets?

I internally scream.

The fear throws me into overdrive. I slingshot through the maze of stacked crates in the middle of the Stockyard. I need to leap onto some platforms and then hurl myself over the fence. It's a ten-foot drop from the top, but I'll survive. I can do it. I don't have a choice.

He's going to kill me.

Daniel Fadhill is going to kill me.

Again.

I zig through the crates and make a mad-dash for the metal levels that tower into the sky. Either I take the slopes to the top or climb the ladders. It's impossible either way because I'll be an open target for Daniel. I bolt towards first wooden level and another bullet misses me.

I growl aloud. Heart pounding in my ears, I start to climb the first level, securing my right foot in a notch and pulling my body onto the platform. I dodge behind a sack of dirt, and a bullet blows a hole in the corner of the sack.

I whine and wipe the sweat from my cheeks. I have two choices: climb or run to the top. The decision barely takes me a second to make.

I sprint out from behind the sack. The levels wrap around the Stockyard, inclining so I can reach the top in a matter of a half-lap around the Stockyard.

Another bullet hits the crate inches from my leg. Adrenaline throws my body forward. Two more shots, and a fiery throb engulfs my calf.

I scream and stumble, tripping on a crate and falling onto my stomach. My hands clamp my leg. The bullet clings to my skin, discharging all the pain of the world into me. A figure climbs onto the platform and yanks the bullet out of my leg. The burning subsides within a few seconds, leaving my entire right leg completely immobile.

"Gotcha," Daniel says with a smirk. He pulls me off the dirty landing and drops me on the concrete. My left shoulder hits the ground first. It shatters against the ground, but Daniel doesn't even blink. Flourishing the gun in his hands once more, he cuffs my wrists and ankles, just like that first day on the helicopter.

"What the heck are you doing?" I croak. My shoulder bone must have crumpled like glass hitting linoleum, shards cutting up my body from the inside out. I lay my head back against the hard ground. Teeth clamp onto my trembling bottom lip. Game over.

Daniel pulls some device or something from his cargo shorts pocket. He clicks it on and sets it up on some crates nearby. "This is what happens when you don't obey the rules when training to be a Clarifier," he says to the camera.

The blue sky smiles at my tears. Breath after breath scratches my throat. I can't even begin to understand this. What's going to happen to me?

Daniel stands over me with the gun. Tears pile in my eyes, ready to spill over. A bang fills my ears, the fire explodes from my chest. I can't even hear my own screams, but I know they're loud because my vocal chords shake like a white flag of surrender.

The rest happens in a haze. Through my blurred vision, two people rush in and handcuff Daniel. Another person shoves him away from me.

"What was hell was that?" A gruff voice yells.

"I was following the Code of Conduct," Daniel says.

"You call that proper conduct?"

"Dad, c'mon."

"No, Danny. Enough is enough. Quit beating up the girl. This is starting to look like reasonable cause for dismissal." He waves people to me. "Release Ashley and help her walk to the hospital room."

I can't stop the crying from echoing through the air. I wish I could just swallow it and save myself from the embarrassment. Hands lift me and belt me into a stretcher, and then I'm traveling. Daniel's voice fading to nothing.

"This is going to burn," a girl says. White hot pain burns my calf. Then another one at the neckline of my shirt. My eye roll to the back of my skull. I can't, I can't.

As quick as the pain came, it subsides just as fast. My head still throbs a little though. Nothing like a couple of strange bullets to give me a headache.

Hands stick gauze and bandages over my calf and chest. When I open my eyes, a smooth face gives me a half-smile. My eyebrows furrow for a moment. Why does she look so familiar?

"Oh, my gosh," I say, eyes wide. The nurse is the Daniel's girlfriend. The same girl I saw Daniel with before my first training session. Ho-ly crap.

The brunette smiles at my not-so-discreet realization. "Yeah. I know." A sigh. "Well, I'm Lana, and I'll be taking care of you."

I speak without thinking. "I'm so confused. Why did he do that?"

"I-I don't know, but I have a guess," she says. She takes a seat on the edge of my cot. "It's the States. He thinks you're still aligned with them."

What?

Lana shrugs. "I don't get it either," she says. "Danny's not violent like this."

Then what is he like? All he's ever done to me is bully and belittle me. Now assault? If anyone's with the States, it's him, not me.

The headache fades as the gears turn in my mind. I rise from my cot and tell Lana I'm going to find my mom. In reality, that's not at all what I intend to do.

I stride out of the medical room and head out in search of him. Whether he likes it or not, I'm going to purge the nice, kind Danny of his Daniel qualities.

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this was one of my favorite chapters, and i don't know why. but the Stockyard reminds me of the gardening center of my local Lowe's store. anyone else agree?

or are you more of a Home Depot kind of person?

now if you will excuse me, i'm going to go break into my Lowe's gardening center like a true Renegade. #lowes4lyfe