Chapter 1
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Ava
“Never beg a Euro.”
My dad’s words echo in my head, but to save his life, I must defy him, and beg the worst type of Euro—anElite. Now, I just have to choose which of the five to ask.
Kensington sits directly across from me on his red velvet padded chair, separated by the bloodstained, weather-beaten platform. He is the kindest of the Elites and is well respected in the Dollar community. His eyes are warm, and his shoulders are slouched. He would be the obvious choice, but he has already used his yearly exemption. He’s out.
Crack.My heart pounds, and my lower lip trembles.
I return my attention to the platform where my dad is bound with his arms outstretched. Felix retracts the lash, poised for another violent strike.
Crack.It echoes in my ears, reverberating off the stone travertine archways built as a replica of a building they had on Earth called the Roman Coliseum. I hope better things happened there than the morally corrupt display of cruelty that I’m being forced to suffer through.
I go to university with the Elites, but of course I haven’t ever talked or interacted with any of them. It’s pathetic that the Elites attend one of the few integrated schools in our world. Clearly it’s a publicity stunt to show that they are “one with all the people,” as their slogan goes. The separate doorways and segregated seating prove otherwise.
My attention shifts back the Elites and focusses on Olivia. A year ago, a university professor praised my best friend for the vivid colours in her fashion design. He critiqued Olivia’s for its lack of creativity. Olivia retaliated by spreading a rumour that my friend, Delilah, had an eating disorder. Dollars are thin due to inhumane food restrictions—it’s certainlynot by choice. She’s out.
Blood pours from a gash that has opened on my dad’s back, pooling beneath him. I have never needed my family more than I do right now, but they fell victim to yet another ruthless Euro policy and weren’t granted a travel permit. If I can’t convince one of the Elites to save my dad, they will never get to say goodbye.
Nausea washes over me and a lump builds in my throat. I will appear to be strong…at least on the outside. Inside, I’m being torn apart. My entire life my dad has been my rock. I have so many precious memories with him, laughing at family dinners, yelling at the TV watching soccer games, playing chess with him. When I stumbled, literally, or figuratively, he was always there to pick me up.
This isn’t how it ends. He would find a way to save me, and I will do the same for him.
Oxford leans forward in his seat with a wicked grin plastered on his face. He’s the cruelest of the Elites and isn’t even attempting to conceal his enjoyment. With each lash, vomit rises in my throat and his smile grows wider. He’s out.
My dad is sentenced to a minimum of fifteen poison lashes and a maximum of twenty-five. No one has ever survived more than twelve, and he’s already at seven. I need to swallow my pride and break our most absolute rule—I have tobeg.
My hands shake, and I steady them on my lap. I look down at the $ sign tattoo on my left hand. This mental torture is the result of a war that happened over two hundred years ago. Why couldn’t my ancestors have found a way to win.
Chelsea has already used her yearly exemption, but I wouldn’t be able to get her attention even if I wanted to. Her eyes are laser-focused on the stage, staring at Preston. She’s out.
The large screen at the end of the packed coliseum plays a slow-motion replay of the blood splatter. At the bottom corner of the screen is the name of our planet, Janus. It was named after the Roman God of new beginnings. This was supposed to be a fresh start for humanity after Earth was torn apart by conflict. Things quickly fell apart, and a brutal war pitted my North American ancestors from Earth against their European counterparts. Needless to say, we lost, and here I sit.
Crack.I swallow the vomit in my throat.
My last chance is Preston, and he’s a bit of a wildcard. When his brother died six months ago, he was brought back from one of the satellite moons to replace him. Hopefully, Preston isn’t as ruthless as his brother’s was known to be.
Preston leans back in his chair with his hands resting comfortably on the gold engraved armrests. He looks almost…bored. He gives off a complete alpha arrogant vibe. Dark hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. The classic playboy, well aware of how gorgeous he is. I have no choice. My dad will die if I can’t convince him.
Preston’s cold, cruel eyes lock onto mine. There’s no depth or compassion in his soulless gaze.
“Please.”I mouth the word from twenty feet away. My entire life, I’ve been taught to project strength around Euros, but I need to be raw and vulnerable. If I can let him see the torment in my eyes, maybe he’ll show mercy.
His eyes remain flat, and his lips form a straight line. He knows exactly what I asked.
Lash nine. I swallow a sob.“Please.”Tears well up, but I won’t let them drop.
All he has to do is walk up to the podium, and say, “I want to use my exemption,” and this would instantly halt. My agony would be erased, and my family would be whole once again.
He stares at me, his brown eyes narrowing. His shoulders raise slightly, and his fingers tapping on the gold armrest pause. My heart skips a beat when something flickers in his eyes. For the first time in days, I feel a sense of hope. Maybe there is more to him, but that’s not saying much; my dad is being tortured less than ten feet from him. You’d have to be a complete psychopath not to feel any empathy.
Lash ten. Preston continues to stare at me, then leans forward in his chair. He abruptly glances at my dad and tilts his head to the side.
I hold my breath, and a lump builds in my throat. Maybe…
Felix lifts his arm, retracting the lash, waiting for Preston’s command.
Preston looks at me, then back at my dad, and casually waves his hand for Felix to continue. Felix brings the lash down with fury, my stomach drops, and Preston sits back comfortably in his chair.
Lash eleven. Twelve. Moisture collects in my eyes, and I blink to absorb it. Preston looks off into the distance, completely unfazed by the murder happening right in front of him. My dad’s fate is sealed, and I try to stop my lower lip from quivering.
My head lowers. I failed my dad when he needed me the most.
Lash thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen. Preston saunters to the podium with one hand in the pocket of his navy dress pants. He adjusts his tie slightly then he looks at my dad. “You have reached the minimum prescribed number of lashes. Acknowledge your guilt, or the maximum penalty of twenty-five lashes will be administered.” Preston carries the handheld microphone over to my dad.
I already know what he’s going to say. He will never yield to them. My dad is the strongest man I know.
“I am innocent,” my dad says through labored breaths and lifts his chin.
Whispers erupt throughout the large crowd. This is a courageous act of defiance, but nothing will come of it. It never does.
Preston shifts uncomfortably from his left foot to his right, and stares directly at me. His lips purse, and his eyes slowly close. He lifts the microphone, and announces. “Since the criminal declines to acknowledge guilt, we shall proceed to the maximum of twenty-five lashes as prescribed.”
The word “criminal” plays on repeat in my brain. It rolled off Preston’s tongue so easily, but it is like a stake through my heart. My dad is innocent. I will prove it, if it’s the last thing I do.
Crack.With each lash, my rage grows. I hate them—I hate all Euros, but most of all, I hate Preston. I will make him regret this and one day he will feel how I do right now.
Preston
After the final lash, I stroll down the platform stairs, then brush off a piece of invisible dirt from my shirt. I try to maintain the casual mask my father insisted upon, but in reality, my heart is racing and I slide my hands in my pockets to stop them from trembling.
“Always project strength. You are an Elite now.” My dad’s words drum through my head.
With my expression hard, I head towards the nearest exit, willing my feet to put one foot in front of the other. I walk through a marble archway and when I see daylight on the other side, I take a deep breath.
I lean back against the concrete hallway wall, trying to slow my heart. Nothing in my life has prepared me for the brutality I just witnessed. My brother was raised for this, hardened by my father’s lessons, but I didn’t have that upbringing. This was not supposed to be my fate.
“Sir,” a man calls out and I look around, finally realizing I’m the only person in the dark hallway.
I wonder if I’ll ever get used to people addressing me so formally? Six months ago, I was just Preston, the second son, and now I’m sir or Elite Taylor.
I turn to the man and nod. He lifts up a clipboard with a piece of paper on it. “Can you please sign some paperwork before you go?”
“Of course.” I hold my hand out for a pen.
The man searches his pockets and purses his lips. “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot a pen. I’ll go grab one and be right back.” He lowers his eyes.
“It’s fine,” I say casually, then catch myself. I should have immediately chastised him for wasting my time. “Don’t let it happen again.” I snap.
The man nods, then rushes away. I could use a walk to calm my nerves so I follow.
I can’t believe the girl at the Retribution got to me. My father would be pissed that I was so easily manipulated. I’m just lucky that when I went to stand up to use my exemption, her dad stopped me.
Why would someone give up a chance to live?
My father can never find out how weak I was.
The official turns down a hallway and I follow. Voices echo in the dimly lit corridor.
“Just let me see him one last time,” a girl pleads, and I immediately recognize the blonde from the Retribution.
“No!” a guard shouts. “Get out of here.” He points towards an exit. “You can collect the cremated body and his personal items in a couple of days.”
“He was innocent.” She raises her voice, then takes a step towards him. “I’m not leaving. I’m the only family he has here.”
She continues to argue with him, and I sidestep them and meet the other guard at the desk. He hands me a pen and puts an x where I have to sign. I don’t know why they insist on such a formal procedure, this could all be done digitally. Their constant fear of hackers is preposterous. Who would want to steal this document. Thousands of people were witnesses to it.
“My family can’t even get travel permits to come to the funeral,” she pleads. “Just let me say goodbye one final time on behalf of all of us.” Her voice trembles.
“There’s no point asking me,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I don’t have the authority to override policy.”
I glance over at the girl, and she’s staring directly at me. Those crystal blue eyes pierce through my soul. I guarantee I have the authority. If there’s one thing I’ve learned as an Elite, it’s that my power is virtually limitless and unchecked.
“Tell them to let me see my dad,” she demands and her eyes harden.
There is no way my father wouldn’t find out if I intervened. He would be so angry that I allowed myself to be manipulated by a pretty face. Fuck, she’s stunning, but it’s more than that. It’s her expression. She looks so…alone.
“Don’t fucking look at me. I’m not helping you,” I say in a cold voice so she’ll get the point and give up.
Her fists ball up at her sides, and those piercing blue eyes fill with rage.
I shrug, then walk away. I shouldn’t, but I peek back and she’s leaning against the wall with her arms wrapped around her chest.
She would never believe it, but I understand her more than she would imagine. When I was away at boarding school, there were so many times I felt abandoned and wanted the comfort of my mom. My brother and I had a shitty relationship, but I wish more than anything I could have talked to him just one last time before he died.
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