My footsteps pattered down the hallway in quick, even movements, slapping against the plain tile. I don't bother to pay attention to where I am going. Each hallway twists around a corner, snaking in a familiar fashion to the next. It is nearly impossible to distinguish them as if they are part of labrinth, not a military base.

Red still worries my eyes, irritated from the tears that I had quickly wiped away after I left Meila. But my eyes don't bother me. They are just another glaring reminder of my shortcoming as a sister. I will add them to Meila's list.

Failure, traitor, selfish, cold-hearted, naive, my mind screams at me.

I am everything my parents hate. Hated, I scold myself as I remember my distinct realization that my parents are never coming back. Quietly, as I strode down another hallway, I wondered what they would think of me now. Would they be proud? Disappointed?

"Disappointed," I said, frowning at the thought.

I shook my head, desperate to clear the patronizing thoughts that would only further prove my failures as a daughter. And undoubtedly, my failings as a sister.

Maybe Meila is right. I shouldn't have been selfish with my decisions. But were they truly selfish? Was it selfish for me to protect her from the pain, the suffering that undoubtedly follows the loss of a parent, let alone two?

What I would give for Meila's selfishness to take away a week of my suffering, the pain that came with the hole in my chest that dully ached every breath I took for the past month. What I would give to be whole again, instead of the broken pieces that are just left over from my parent's deaths.

But...

Despite myself

I can't bring myself to regret the decision that led me to James.

Do I love him? Not exactly.

The word "like" is more appropriate...considering the circumstances. But, something about him is different.

Different in a good way.

Different in an electrifying, heart fluttering, sweet way that distracts me from the dull ache of reality.

"Gah!" I choked out, breaking into a fit of rough coughs and mucus-filled breaths, as my body came into contact with a hard rock.

The resulting grunt, coming from across me, confirmed my suspicions that my victim wasn't inanimate, but a person. A human.

I hesitantly shifted my eyes forward, squinting awkwardly with embarrassment, as I prepared myself to observe and tend to the poor victim's injuries that I caused. I stared at the ground, half-expecting an incapacitated body to be grunting on their side.

Instead, I found a pair of flexed, slender legs that were visibly tense through their dark dress pants. Dress pants...that only a male would wear.

I immediately jumped back as Scarlet flush blazed up my neck. To anyone else, our innocent encounter would prove to be far more inappropriate than I would care to contemplate.

Horrified, ignoring the throbbing ache in my side, I looked up to a set of chocolate eyes that were dark and curious, watching me with amusement.

"I am so sorry!" I cried out. I lurched my hand towards his chest, desperate to make sure he was alright, when my hand froze in mid-air, inches away from his leather jacket.

What are you doing? I chastised myself. Clearly, if he has the nerve to find amusement in this unbearably mortifying situation, he must be fine. Besides, what damage can I possibly do to a six foot giant? I am barely over average height.

Quickly, but steadily, I pulled my hand behind my back, hoping that he didn't notice my hand hovering inches away from his body. When his eyes lit up with amusement, and his lips fell open to chuckles of laughter, I knew I had failed. He noticed.

"It's alright," He chuckled, rubbing a hand tenderly over his chest-where I bumped into him, I assumed.

I scrunched my nose in distaste, frowning at his easy dismissal of the pain I caused him, which could have been so easily avoided if I hadn't been distracted by- "James," I said with a gasp.

Had I been distracted by James? The way his dark, neatly kept hair contrasted with his strikingly beautiful gray eyes and pale skin. Or the way his face lights up when he talks about books or knowledge that he found interesting and wanted to share with me. Perhaps his musical laughter that fills me with warmth and makes me want to pull him closer, so I can share his happiness and make it my...own. 

No. 

Not my own. 

Ours.

 I want to make my happiness his and his mine.

But why?

A gentle shake of my shoulder brought me back to reality. A warm hand, too hot for my liking, squeezed my shoulder. I knew it was meant to be a reassuring gesture, but I couldn't help the automatic flinch my body produced when it registered the touch, or the dead chill that traveled down my spine.

Wide, dark eyes, framed on a tan, chiseled face with dominant features peered down at me wistfully, as if I was an experiment rather than a plain, ordinary girl.

"My name isn't James," he said with a smirk that would have stopped any girls in their tracks. The upward twist of his mouth complimented the sharp edges of his jaw, making his appearance overwhelmingly attractive, like a model that applies pounds of makeup to achieve the inhuman, superior rank of beauty that few achieve. But, beneath his tousled blond locks, and attractive features, something didn't sit right.

"Of course it's not," I said, cringing at my awkwardness. "I was just...thinking about someone, and the name slipped my lips," I said with a frown.

His hands nervously brushed through his dirty-blond hair, his eyes focusing on me, as he forced out a laugh.

"Thinking about a James, huh? Hopefully only bad things?" he said with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Bad things?" I scoffed, raising my eyebrows as my body tensed protectively at the thought of James.

"Sure," he laughed, giving me a boyish grin. "'Bad things' still give me the opportunity to ask you out on a date."

"Gah!" I choked out, my hands snaking to my throat as I was overwhelmed with the desire to vomit.

"What?" he asked, perplexed, where other boys would be hurt in the face of rejection.

"I don't date."

"You don't date?" he said with raised eyes. "Why not?"

"Because, I don't want to," I huffed out, as if this was obvious.

"You may change your mind," he said softly, intently staring at me with gentler eyes, and a kinder, less taut and arrogant expression. Ingenuine, my body screamed at me.

"Not likely." I took an obvious step away from his, emphasizing my disinterest as I stared at him with unwavering eyes. Unlike other females, I wouldn't give in.

This, of course, shocked him.

"We will see," he said with hopeful eyes, persistent and infinitely annoying. "So..." he drew out, "Where are you off to in a daze?"

"Nowhere important," I said curtly, my eyes burning holes through his brown orbs.

"I am a soldier here, you know." He unzipped his leather jacket and gestured to a small pin that was clipped to the corner. "You can trust me."

My body went cold at his words. No you can't, it screamed at me.

"Trust is earned, not given by a title," I said in a controlled voice, devoid of emotion.

"It can be given when you meet the right person," he insisted with a forcibly gentle, kind smile that chilled me the core, like when a predator smiles at their prey.

"Or lost when you trust the wrong one," I corrected him, taking another stride backwards.

He raised his eyes to mine, coldness and superiority taking over his dark retinas.

"What makes you think you can't trust me?"

"I never said I didn't," my voice strained, as my heart began quick, even thuds inside my chest.

"You implied it." It was his turn to be curt.

"No I didn't!" I hissed in frustration, flexing my knees.

"No?" he taunted me, taking a stride forward that was twice mine. I reflexively took another step back. "Then why are you running?"

"Why are you chasing?" I glared at him, squeezing my fists tightly against my sides.

"Because..." His hands gestured to my hair while his eyes drifted to my lips.

"You. Are. Mine," he said, caressing every word, as if they were part of a delicate love song, not the sick song of a creep.

That was it. The end of my self control. The end of my refusal to ignore my gut.

I turned my back and broke out into a sprint the moment his hands lurched for my wrists.

My short and able body soared down the hallways, turning corners and slapping against the tile as loud boots thumped after me.

At first, there was one, the loud, rhythmic pounding of the unknown man trailing behind my quick feet.

Then, there were two.

Three.

Four.

So many that I couldn't count them all without sacrificing my impressive pace and rampant speed.

"Stop in the name of-!" muffled voices shouted behind me as I frantically pulled my small frame down identical hallways, praying that I was heading in the right direction of Meila and James.

"Meila! James!" I screamed down the empty hallway. My voice echoed softly against the white painted walls, falling upon deaf ears. Not even the soldiers could hear me over the grinding boots and loud grunts.

I twisted my body around the next corner, sweat beading down my forehead, as I realized that this hallway seems familiar. Too familiar.

I cursed under my breath as I sprinted down the hallway for the second time. In my bouts of fear, panic, I must have doubled back down the same hallway.

I ran in a circle.

I trapped myself.

I made a mistake.

In desperation, I pushed my feet against the ground harder, effectively thrusting myself inches further with each step, making me faster as I raced across the hallway.

Thumping bled through my ears as the hounding boots get louder. With each stride, the voices become louder, clearer, so I can easily make out what they are saying.

"This way!"

"Trap her from the other side!"

"No! Follow my orders! Follow the others!"

"Go! Go!" gruff voices yelled with authority over the screeching chaos.

Shuffling boots, yelling men, trained soldiers, distracted me as I lurched my body around the next corner. Carelessly making the turn, I pushed my left foot too hard, causing it to slip on the slick tile, effectively twisting it in forty-five degree rotation that my ankle didn't appreciate. My ankle screamed in protest as it made an angry crunching sound that wasn't pleasant to ears, let alone squeamish ones.

My left leg buckled under my weight, my ankle no longer able to support it. I released a muffled cry as I crouched down on the floor and cradled my ankle. On the strip of skin between my jeans and sneakers, I could see the angry purple lines where my veins had burst and blood was pooling beneath the surface. My ankle was bruising from where I twisted it.

Great, I grimaced, gritting my teeth together when sharp needles dug into the side of my ankle.

I clutched my ankle against my side, sucking in unsatisfied breaths as the thuds and yelling surrounded me.

"No escape," I whispered in defeat, shutting my eyes.

I don't pay attention to what the men say. 

I don't pay attention to how many there are. 

I don't pay attention to whether I am surrounded or not.

However, I do pay attention to when the noise stops.

To when the noise stops except for an unnatural panting sound, that is almost a muffled cry of pain. Almost.

I opened my eyes to a familiar set of chocolate brown orbs. No longer did they hold the false set of kindness and genuinely that my body had so easily rejected. Instead, their warmth was replaced by coldness and calculation.

"Hello," he said curtly, nodding at my crippled form as if I was an object.

I glared at him, twisting my mouth into a snarl as knives dug and twisted into my ankle. I audibly winced in pain, cursing under my breath as I rubbed small circles over the swollen area.

"Ah," he nodded as he dramatically leaned over my crouch form, staring at my swollen and bruising ankle. "Tripped?" he asked innocently, suppressing his cold demeanor with faint, but genuine concern.

"Why do you care?" I painfully gritted my teeth, as water began to pool around the corners of my eyes. My ankle was throbbing, and I didn't like the shade of purple it was turning.

"Why do you care if I care?" He pulled back with an amused and conniving smirk.

"I don't," I snarled, glaring knives into the whites of his eyes.

"Yet," he corrected me in all seriousness. "But you will, my dear, Meila." He caressed my sister's name as if it was a note in a love ballad. "At least, you will pretend to...until my parents make other arrangements for you and those you care for," he said innocently without missing a beat.

I felt it when the blood drained from my face, making my complexion fifty shades paler, surely a sickly color. Sickly because I wanted to vomit. Not just because of the physical pain, but the emotional pain.

They picked the wrong one. 

Somehow, despite our striking difference of features, they plucked the wrong sister. No, they didn't want Elena James, the youngest daughter of Bridget and Jacob James. No. They wanted Meila James. The eldest sister, and the apparent heir, ruler, to a dead planet that we found out existed twenty minutes ago.

But, that wasn't who Meila to me. 

She wasn't grand. 

She wasn't a queen.

She didn't need to be.

She was kind, loving, selfless. She always put me above herself, giving me what I wanted, despite her own needs. The thought nearly kills me now, as I remember her calling me a selfish brat, merely half an hour ago, for all intents and purposes.

Was I really so careless and selfish to let her think I am cruel? That I wouldn't give up the world and then some for her, for family?

I suppose it is selfless or selfish, depending on said perspective, but it doesn't matter. I have never attempted to conceal my intentions towards those I care for in the past, and today will be no different.

"We will see," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut as I imagined the disappointment that would cross Meila's face if she were to watch me right now. 

I could have refused her name. 

I could have told them that I am Elena. 

I could have saved myself, but I didn't.

I sentenced myself. To whatever fate they had in store for my sister, my Meila.

"Boss," a pitchy voice rushed in a nervous voice. "The officers in security haven't responded for over fifteen minutes-"

"What?!" he shouted, glaring at the short and stout man that was too large for the jacket he was wearing.

"I said-" the short man continued.

"I heard what you said!" he hissed, leaning towards the petrified soldier. "Grab her!" he seethed, jabbing a finger at the swarm of guards that had me circled.

They all stood frozen, looking at each other as if they weren't quite sure what they were supposed to do. I supposed grabbing and restraining an injured teenage girl isn't high on their morals list, not that he cared.

A singular tear dripped down my cheek, when I heard the men shift. Instead of cowering away from them, sulking over what is to come, I forcibly opened my eyes, determined to find something. My eyes glossed over the corners of the ceiling, stopping when I caught sight of a small, black rectangle with a camera lens protruding directly towards me.

I stared up at the camera with pleading eyes.

See me. See me. See me, I begged silently.

Almost as if in reply, the camera subtly, not drastically enough to notice unless you were looking for it, moved up and down. 

A nod. 

Yes. 

Yes, they see me.

I let out a sigh of relief, relaxing mildly despite the sharp pain radiating from my ankle.

Guards flank both of my sides, carefully pulling me up and helping me support my weight on my right leg. I let out a grimace when their efforts brush my ankle, causing sharp pains to snake up my leg.

Rather quickly, they decide one functional leg isn't a sufficient walking mechanism for a stealthy escape. Using their bodies as my gurney, six of the taller soldiers lift me, using their hands and arms to easily support my body.

Detached and in bearable, but, altogether excruciating pain, I close my eyes, smiling at the thought of the moving camera, as the soldiers carry me down more hallways, shouting and making a ruckus. 

Someone saw me.

And...if that someone was Conner.

Well, then I wish some luck to these cowards.

They will need it, I smiled as the edges of my vision dulled from the pain, tinting my vision a deep red before I tumbled into darkness.

AN: I do sincerely apologize for the wait guys. I've taken a lot of time to think about the story and where it's going, and I think I have finally figured the majority of it out. So, hopefully ,despite the agonizing wait, I do hope this chapter is worth it. 

It was fun, yet hard to write. I don't enjoy doing these things to characters, but sometimes it is necessary. This chapter is quite the cliff hanger, so I will try to update it for you guys soon :)

As for the book schedule...I am guessing the final count will be anywhere between twenty and thirty chapters. The chapters themselves don't actually take that long to write, but deciding where the story needs to go and how it will gets there takes time, which is why these past few chapters have taken so much longer. But, hopefully you guys enjoy them and they are worth it.

I am sorry that this ended on a cliffhanger, I know how difficult it is. But hopefully, once the next chapter is out, it will be worth it. Feel free to comment your reactions! I love to read them!

Last, but most certainly not least, I hope you guys had a great holiday and fun New Year's! I can't wait to mess up the date by writing 2020 instead of 2021 for the next month!

As always, thank you so much for reading. I can't begin to describe how grateful I am for the support this book has received. We tied for third place in the Science Fiction category in the Moonstone Awards! Isn't that crazy? I am so unbelievably shocked and grateful, I can't even explain it. 

Well, I am signing off to bed, but I hope you guys have a great day, and hopefully I should be updating again soon :)

-Elly6431