The Last Uprising (Defectors Trilogy) Read Online Free

“Auxiliary Supplies.”
    Amory cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Roman thinks it might be best to keep you away from the others until . . . until you recover.”
    A sharp pang of irritation hit me, souring my words. “Recover from what ?”  
    “I didn’t mean . . .” He scratched his head, looking lost for words. “Just until . . . you’re back on our side.”
    I scoffed. “Then you may be holding me hostage for a long time.”
    “Is that what you think?” Amory sounded genuinely hurt. I wasn’t tempted to feel any remorse until he drew back the tent flap and I saw he had pushed all the supplies to one side of the tent and made me a pallet on the other.
    I glared at him.
    Anger flashed in his gray eyes, and he pushed me inside. “Sit down.”
    I sank cautiously down onto the tarp with my hands bound in front of me, resting against an enormous bag of flour.
    Amory’s hands gripped my ankles and yanked them toward him. I felt a flash of alarm and tried to pull away, but he just grabbed a length of rope from the floor and bound my feet together.  
    By the time he was finished, my humiliation was burning a hole through the tent flap.  
    Amory looked red around the ears, too, though I couldn’t think why he would be embarrassed. What had he expected? Wasn’t this how you treated a prisoner?
    He backed away from me crouched on his heels, his eyes dancing with a challenge. He expected me to break — to say I was on their side and could be trusted. I knew it would be smarter to act as though I had succumbed to Stockholm syndrome or something and was back on their side, but I couldn’t do it. I had been confused and powerless for too long. Now that I finally had a clear head, I wouldn’t let people control me anymore.
    I raised an eyebrow at Amory. He could tie me up all he wanted — starve me if he liked. I didn’t care. I didn’t trust them, and I wouldn’t feign trust. I would escape on my own, though I had no idea how or where I would go.  
    With a grunt of irritation, Amory got up. He grabbed the sleeping bag from the pallet on the floor. With a loud unzipping sound, it came apart as a blanket, and he threw it over me unceremoniously. When I pulled my chin up over the sharp zippered edge, I was alone in the supply tent.

    Within three days, I had memorized the rhythm of the camp. Chores started before sunrise, and the crack of splitting firewood echoed through the trees. I could hear people huffing toward the mess tent with buckets of water and the groggy murmurs of people milling around in their tents.
    When the sun came up, a bell tolled across camp, and the woods went quiet as they all gathered for a meeting. Then the camp was bustling again as everyone went off to do their daily chores. Some hunted, and others stayed behind to wash clothes, cure meat, and clean weapons. The bell tolled again at noon and a third time for supper.  
    At sundown, I heard the murmur of Amory and the other guards outside preparing to fan out around the perimeter to watch for approaching PMC. Sometimes I just listened to the guards pacing in the snow.  
    It wasn’t much, but the routine kept me from going insane.  
    I barely had any visitors, apart from Roman, who brought me my meals in silence and took me out to the woods to use the bathroom. I wasn’t sure why he was tasked with taking care of me, but perhaps the others thought him less likely to let his guard down around me. They didn’t want me to escape.  
    I hadn’t seen Greyson or Logan since we’d left the motel. Amory was the only one who visited me, not out of necessity, but because he wanted to.  
    Every day at noon without fail, he would appear with two plates of food and sit with me while we both ate our lunch. It was only half an hour, sometimes less if there was a lot of work to be done, but at least it was human contact.
    Part of me was inclined to feel grateful since I knew it was the only time Amory really had that was his own. From the dark