Page 8 of Dissent

He was pensive, and I knew exactly what he was doing—calculating his choices, determining the best option. I knew he was supposed to report this incident. Any suspicion was supposed to be reported immediately. With the election around the corner, they had tasked the Rebel Enforcement Group with sniffing out any rebels, reeducating those who were salvageable, and incarcerating the rest until the Council could try them for their actions against Telvia. It was a merciless job, but someone had to do it.

He sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” The pained expression on his face told me that holding back this secret was going to kill him. But Jacob was a man of his word, and I trusted him.

I blew out a breath. “Oh my god, thank you. Thank you so much.”

The stern lines on his face said it was taking a lot for him to agree to this. I asked him to do something that went against everything he had been trained to do, acting against his country and our father. And this realization hit me, crushing me with guilt. My brother idolized our father. Jacob risking our dad’s approval formewas huge, and it left me feeling like a rotten sister for asking this of him. But I was also immensely grateful. I would have to return the favor to him one day.

He said nothing more, and silence encircled us both as we drove the rest of the way home. It was uncomfortable, but I kept my focus outside the window, trying to steady myself before we got home.

4: Belinda

Theknockingatmydoor startled me awake, but sleep clung to my consciousness, dulling my senses. Even though Chase had tried to soothe my fears the day before, I was still super freaked out. What if someone called my parents and told them about the incident? Luckily, I didn’t see anyone when I got home last night, and no one came looking for me either. I went straight to bed.

Knock, knock, knock.

I wanted to sleep. I was so tired. My nerves had me tossing and turning all night, and at one point, I had a nightmare of being caught by the REG in front of the defiled poster, holding red spray paint. And then my dad’s face came into view, the sheer look of disappointment cutting through me like a knife. No matter how many times I told him it wasn’t me, he never believed me. Thensheshowed up, her collected, perfect smile mocking me as I begged to be believed. I woke up sweating, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Mara, are you awake?”

Ugh…Chelsea. One of these days, I needed to ask for a new personal maid. She just wasn’t going to work out. I could feel it in my bones.

“Mara,” she called out louder, knocking again.

I grumbled, rubbing my eyes as I tried to wake up. “Yes, yes. Give me a minute.” I pulled back my sheets and slipped off the bed, stumbling in a stupor to grab my robe. I didn’t make it three steps before Chelsea let herself in. The sudden burst of energy snapped me awake, seizing my attention. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She paused for a second and gave me a bored look as she balanced a bundle of clean laundry on her hip. “Coming to change your sheets. What does it look like?” Her tone was caustic, and that didn’t settle well with me.

My brows furrowed as I argued, “You can’t just barge in here without permission, you know. You’re amaid,remember? Your job is to follow orders and do as you’re told.”

She arched a brow, running her tongue over her lips. “Oh, yeah, I forgot that part.Sorry.” She rolled her eyes as she turned away, plopping the sheets on the ground.

I felt the annoyance swirl within me. “You just don’t get it, do you? Your job is to cater to me.I’ma Noble Class citizen andyou’rea Subclass citizen. That means you have to treat me with respect.”

She kept her back turned to me, bending over to pick through the pile she dumped on the ground. “Mm-hmm…got it, boss.”

“Erg!” I marched over, grabbed her by the upper arm and turned her around to face me. “It’sMissMara, Chelsea.Miss.” It was taking everything within me to keep my temper in check. I didn’t enjoy rubbing my status in other people’s faces. That was definitely aBelindathing. But the situation with Chelsea was a constant problem, and I was growing super tired of it.

Chelsea glanced down at the hand I had firmly grasped around her arm before flicking her gaze upon me. Her deep emerald eyes spoke volumes, and it was definitely no love story. The fakest smile I’d ever seen slid across her lips.

“Oh, yeah, silly me. I guess I just forgot again.” She stood up straight and pulled her arm away from me. I let it go easily. “Sorry about that,MissMara.”

The familiar sting of adrenaline coursed through my body. I leaned in, my face only inches from hers. “Then get your memory checked, because I can guarantee Belinda will not be nearly as forgiving as I am.”

“Is that a fact,my dear Mara?”

I jumped, startled by the new, silky voice.

Chelsea quickly bowed her head. “Good morning, Mistress Belinda.”

I shifted uncomfortably, but I did my best to muster a greeting as I turned to face my stepmother.

Belinda had always been beautiful, and the perfect representation of what every aristocrat in the Noble Class should be—tall, graceful,crisp. Her blonde locks were always neatly wrapped in a bun, every hair dutifully in its place. With sharp, angular features, and piercing blue eyes, only one word could describe her—perfect.But for all her outer beauty and poise, her personality did little to match. Though she was as graceful as a cat, she was ruthless, deceitful, and just downright cruel. That wasmyopinion anyway, and my body always responded to her in kind, kicking my survival reflexes into high gear and sending me into an internal panic. Her presence sent a wave of chills up my spine, activating my senses, heightening them. Fear stirred within me.

Belinda stepped into my room, the skirts of her flowing vintage dress skimming the fine carpet. “I couldn’t help but hear you speak my name as I passed through the hall, Mara,” she said, her voice saccharin. Seventeen years of listening to that syrupy voice right before she hit me and threw me into the basement to starve for days taught me to never trust it.

My mind raced to find an excuse—any excuse—any reason to throw her focus off me. “I…I was just—”

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