Marked

LEO

Ash didn’t come to school the next day. Not to training, not to class, not to hover at the edges of my space like he had been all week.

He vanished like he’d never existed.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes before he left the garage. That mix of confusion, regret… and something deeper he didn’t say out loud. Maybe he was scared or maybe he was just preparing to let me fall.

Either way, I had bigger things to worry about.

The first stage of the Trials was only a day away.

And someone was already planning to make sure I didn’t survive it.

*********************

The track layout dropped that morning. Juno found me by the mechanics' shed, tablet in one hand and a deep scowl on her face.

“They changed it,” she said flatly. “Sector Seven now cuts through the old refinery tunnel.”

My stomach dropped.

“That tunnel’s condemned.”

“Exactly.”

I looked at the flashing blueprint. Sector Seven had always been a flat sprint, basic, clean, fair. Now it was jagged, dark, unpredictable. Pipes and rusted steel, loose flooring, volatile residue. A place designed to collapse.

“They’re going to try to break you,” Juno said, quieter now. “In front of everyone.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.

We both knew I was being hunted.

“You know what this means, right?” she asked, biting her lip. “Someone on the inside is feeding them. Maybe even on the team.”

“Let them,” I muttered. “They’ll have to do better than that if they want to stop me.”

Juno narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get cocky. They’re trying to kill you, Leo. Not just disqualify you. Kill.”

By the time I got to the pre-race check-in, the air around the arena was thick with tension. Racers paced like wolves in cages, their bodies restless and sharp with nerves. Alpha Magnus stood behind the upper observation glass, unmoving, flanked by the Elders. His gaze swept the racers like a god choosing who lived and who didn’t.

He didn’t look at me directly.

But I knew he knew I was there.

Ash still hadn’t shown up and I tried not to care. Tried to focus on my breathing, my boots, the track layout stamped into my memory.

My number was called.

And just like that, I was in.

Twelve racers. Six would advance. The rest would be cut. Spme permanently.

“Just keep your head down and your gear tight,” Juno had said that morning. “Don’t try to show off. Just finish.”

I nodded. “Finishing’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“Try not to get blown up this time,” she’d added, only half-joking.

The start of the race felt like falling into a blackout.

The countdown, the red lights, the press of bodies at the line, I barely registered any of it. My focus tunneled straight ahead, my senses narrowing to movement and speed.

When the green light flashed, I launched.

Boots scraped steel, engines roared, wind tore past my skin.

I kept low, sharp, silent.

Sector Three. Sector Five. Then the turn….

Sector Seven.

I saw the shift before I entered. The ground here was darker, stained, oil-slicked. The pipes overhead groaned like they were waiting to collapse.

I didn’t hesitate.

I entered the tunnel and the lights cut out.

No warning. No flicker. Just total darkness.

I skidded into a sharp turn, barely avoiding a loose steel plate that would’ve flipped me. I crouched low and sprinted, guided by instinct more than sight.

Then I heard it, a click.

Not a mechanical one.

It was a trap.

I dove forward just as a flash of flame burst behind me, the heat licking my back. Something ripped through the air, shrapnel. My shoulder caught the edge of it, a burning line of pain slicing through the gear.

I hit the ground hard, rolled, and kept moving.

No time to check the damage.

No time to stop.

The tunnel stretched ahead and i raced through it, breath ragged, legs on fire.

The tunnel spat me out into Sector Eight, and for a second the lights returned.

And that’s when I saw him.

Ash. He was standing just past the finish line.

Arms crossed. His expression was blank.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t cheer.

He just watched.

I crossed the line, bleeding but upright.

Then he turned his back and walked away.

**********************

I didn’t speak on the way back to the garage.

Juno waited there, shaking, pale, furious.

“They tried to kill you,” she said without looking up. “That was rigged.”

I peeled off my gear slowly, hissing at the blood on my arm. “I know.”

“They’re not even hiding it anymore.”

I dropped the shoulder plate onto the table. “Good. Then they’ll see me coming.”

Juno stared at me, face tight. “You think this is a game? You think you’re going to scare them into backing off?”

“No,” I said. “I think I’m going to make them wish they hadn’t underestimated me.”

But it wasn’t bravery I felt. It was exhaustion, fear and anger.

I reached for my water bottle and found something taped to it. There was no scent.

Another note.

I opened it.

RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

No name. Just those words.

**************************

Juno stitched my arm quietly, her hands steady despite the trembling in her voice.

“I think we need to pull out,” she whispered. “Leo, this isn’t a warning anymore. They’re going to kill you. They’re going to use Ash to do it.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“I don’t care what bond you two share. He’s still his father’s son. Still part of the machine. If he doesn’t betray you now, he will eventually.”

“I know,” I said softly. “But I’m not running.”

“You should.”

“And if I do, everything I’ve fought for dies with me.”

I didn’t answer her after that. Because there was nothing left to say.

And then, without warning, Juno reached into her bag and pulled something out.

A strip of cloth. Burned at the edges. Stained with blood.

She placed it on the table without a word.

My chest went still.

There, stitched into the middle, was a symbol I hadn’t seen in three years.

A claw wrapped in flame.

My brother’s mark.

Rafe.

He was alive.