Last Guard by Nalini Singh

Before

Find Magdalene’s son. Find Canto Fernandez.

—Priority 1 mission alert from Ena Mercant to entire Mercant network (1 August 2053)

THE BOY KNEWhis small rescuer’s makeshift barrier would fall at the first strong push, but he didn’t say anything. The truth was, even if she ran, there was nowhere for her to go. This re-education facility was in the middle of snowy wilderness—and they both had cages around their minds, imprisoning their psychic abilities.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her, as molten arcs of pain shot up his spine in painful contrast to the lack of sensation in his legs. “That you had to do that.”

She used her free hand to pat the hand she held. “You didn’t make me.” It was a firm statement. “He hurt me, too.”

But he knew she’d killed in that moment because of him, because of the threat to his life. The teacher wouldn’t have stopped, not today. The adult male had known that no one would care if Canto died. The children in this school were all flawed, all unwanted. He and the girl were the only cardinals, but even their great psychic abilities hadn’t been enough to make up for their imperfections.

If he hadn’t been a cardinal, he’d have wondered why his father hadn’t simply strangled him when it became obvious he wasn’t a “normal” baby. Even at just over eight years of age, he knew his father’s family wielded a lot of power. Enforcement wouldn’t have looked too deeply into the “accidental” death of a baby.

But a cardinal, even a broken one, could be useful. So he’d been allowed to live. Until his brain began to act too strangely to accept. His father had told him that this school was his “last chance to step up and be a Fernandez.” As if Canto could just fix the misfires in his brain that meant he heard voices—as if he could will his body to work as it should.

Looking up into his small friend’s cardinal eyes, he wondered at her power, but didn’t ask. As his power meant nothing here, so did hers. Not with their minds trapped in psychic barbed wire. So he said, “What will you do when you get out, are free?” He wanted freedom for her more than he did for himself—she’d been here longer, suffered longer.

She was younger, her starlit eyes stark with reality, but she got all bright and happy at his question. “I watched a recording of pink blossom trees once, all in a row. The blossoms were falling and I wanted to walk under them. I’ll do that.” She squeezed his hand. “What about you?”

He told her, asked her more questions. She was so smart, so vivid. He liked being around her, liked listening to her dreams. She was telling him about her favorite animal when the door smashed open. Then the girl who’d saved him was being wrenched away from him, and he realized he’d never asked her name. No one used their names in this place. They were just numbers and letters.

Neither one of them screamed.

They knew these people had no mercy.

Rather, they stared at one another in a silent rebellion that only ended when she was literally carried out of the room. One of the teachers kicked him in the gut. When he choked out a cough but didn’t move, the numbness now halfway up his chest and his breathing a stuttering beat, the man looked at the woman who was checking on the dead teacher.

“Looks like a real medical issue. We’d better get instructions from the family.”

“Sure. It’s part of the protocol. But you know what they’ll say—he’s here because he’s problematic. No one will authorize lifesaving measures.” Cold green eyes on his face. “Guardians will tell us to dump him on his bed and let him die a ‘natural’ death. He’d be better off if I slit his throat.”