Adam had been watching the Academy candidates' building since the alarms first rang.
Not from obligation. Not from concern for their safety. But from cold, calculating assessment of opportunity.
For all his smiles and carefully chosen words of wisdom he often provides, the feelings had already settled in his heart, he would not be denied his future—no matter who had to bleed for it.
Fifteen slots. Fifteen selected. But chaos creates vacancies. He thought
The thought was sick. He knew it was sick. But Adam had built his entire existence on recognizing opportunities others were too moral or too stupid to exploit.
When the candidates split into two groups and burst from the building, Adam followed the larger group—Ellarine's faction, moving with the discipline a noble's grace could afford, toward the officer compound.
He kept his distance, his rifle ready, his mind working through scenarios.
