Unstoppable (Their Shifter Academy #6) - May Dawson Page 0,61

to be amazing. I do.”

The four of us were quiet—maybe a little shell-shocked from our dalliance with magical flying monsters—as we drove the rest of the way. We stashed the vehicle near the colony, which I glimpsed over the pines—tall black spires reaching above the greenery—and then hiked back out to the train tracks.

The four of us donned our new uniforms—prisoner yellow for Maddie and me, guards’ fitted blue uniforms for Rafe and Silas.

Then Silas spirited us onto the train.

The train ran right outside Elegiah; the cars with covered windows told everyone that there were prisoners contained within. But life seemed to go on as normal in the cars itself, where couples were drinking cocktails in the dining car and children were careening through the aisles.

No one seemed troubled by the possibility there were Rebel magicians housed around the corner in an off-limits train car, and that made me wonder why they were imprisoning them at all.

When the train came to a stop outside Elegiah, Maddie and I joined the line of prisoners disembarking. Rafe and Silas melted into the group of penal officers who were just arriving, some from leave and some checking in for the first time.

It turned out that being in prison wasn’t all that different from being at a military academy, which really made me wonder about how I’d chosen to spend four years of my life. During intake, we waited standing on lines on the concrete, and then we waited in a cold wooden house full of benches while our paperwork was processed. We were called up to review paperwork and sent to sit down again. It felt endless.

But it all made sense.

Hell would have a waiting room, right?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Maddie

* * *

I was eager to get into the camp and find Isabelle.

They started calling us one at a time to go up—and everyone they called up, then disappeared through a door behind the check-in table. No one ever returned.

When they called me up, Jensen winked at me. I wished I could kiss him goodbye, but I settled for nudging the top of my boot against his as I got up. We’d see each other again soon, I hoped.

I didn’t look back before I went through the door.

I found myself in a long hallway, and a guard gestured me into an exam room. I had a very brief interview with a very disinterested doctor who asked me some cursory questions to make sure I wouldn’t drop dead immediately upon entry into the prison. I wasn’t sure anyone cared if the answer was that you would.

Then he called toward the hallway, “Mark.”

I held up my arm, my heart suddenly in my throat in case he realized my mark was a fake. But he wasn’t even looking at me.

“Due to some of your kind’s hijinks,” he explained curtly as he made a few final notes in my file, “we are refreshing the mark for every new arrival. Just to make sure you can’t ever use your precious magic again.”

He raised his head from the clipboard and offered me an oily smile.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, even though my heart was hammering frantically.

A scream split the air; it came from down the hall, in another exam room. But it rang in my ears as if the person had just screamed beside me. I was suddenly so anxious.

Suddenly the room was full of guards. I couldn’t help it; I lashed out, fighting them. I managed to keep control of myself not to use my magic, because if they realized my mark was fake, they might investigate further. But giving into my fear enough to attack them—that was natural enough.

Two meaty guards pinned me against the table and a third got control of my hand. They forced my arm down on the table as the doctor pressed what seemed like a two-inch-wide metal stamp against my arm.

He muttered a few words, and suddenly the brand was flaming hot, and I screamed as pain rippled through my arm. But it wasn’t just searing my skin; I felt magic hot and painful racing through my veins. I kicked out and slammed a guard in the chest, and he flew back across the room, slamming into the wall.

“Let her go,” the doctor said. “She’s marked.”

“The female magicians are always so lively,” one of the guards observed as he stepped back, letting me go.

I rolled onto my side, cradling my arm. That had hurt far worse than the fake mark, and worst of all, my