Once he’s gone, I stare at the execution platform again, and a spark of resentment ignites inside me, a whisper of defiance against this “fate” that has been chosen for me. I’ve accepted a lot of fates. I’ve accepted that my parents are dead. That Jim is gone. That my mind is a weapon and if people knew even half of what I could do, they would put a bullet in my brain. I’ve accepted that I’m never going to trust anyone enough to show them who I am, because it will always be too dangerous. But I will not accept this fate. I wasn’t “destined” to be a Command prisoner. And I’ll be damned before I
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