The Recall Trials Chapter 65: The Aston Curse

Jojo’s body trembled beneath my hands as I tightened the bandage around her shoulder. Blood soaked through the gauze faster than I could replace it.

She coughed again.

Then reached out to with her other arm, and curled her bloodstained fingers around mine.

I knew she was in with pain. But beneath it... sothing else flickered.

"There’s sothing you need to know."

Her voice was low, hoarse. Like the words had been living in her throat, waiting to be freed...and now that they were.

I stiffened. My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when I was holding her blood in my hands and Asha’s death in my chest.

But I nodded.

Slowly.

Jojo leaned in closer, her lips kept trembling. Her voice dropped to a whisper, the kind ant for secrets.

"Vincent... he’s not like us."

A bitter laugh slipped out of before I could stop it.

"Oh, I know," I said. "He’s a goddamn murderer."

But Jojo shook her head hard, like I was missing the entire point.

"No," she rasped. "That’s not what I an."

She closed her eyes. Inhaled once. Deep. Like she needed the air to even survive the truth she was about to let out.

When her eyes reopened, they were clearer.

"He’s not supposed to be here, Zaara. Not in the Trials. Not with us."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Jojo’s voice cracked. "He’s not from Sector C... or D. He’s from Sector A."

My mouth parted.

I stared at her, blinking.

The words didn’t land. Or maybe they landed so hard they just bounced off.

"Sector A?" I repeated, like the syllables were foreign. "You’re joking."

But she wasn’t.

Jojo nodded slowly. "His full na is Vincent Aston. Son of Reynolds Aston. Tech tycoon. Billionaire mogul. Owner of half the hotels in the Capital. One of the richest, most powerful n in the Core."

My hands went numb.

My blood ran cold.

No.

"No. No, that can’t be true." I sat back, shaking my head. "That doesn’t make sense.

"They would never let a Sector A heir into the Recall Trials."

"They don’t," Jojo whispered. "His father did."

My mouth went dry.

"What?"

I blinked, trying to comprehend. "Why would anyone throw their own son into this place?"

Jojo’s hand trembled in mine. Her skin was getting cold. Like she had to say it now or she’d never get the chance again.

"Because in Sector A... feeling too much is a weakness. And Vincent was different. He wasn’t ruthless enough. He didn’t want to play their twisted power gas."

My breath hitched. Everything I thought I knew was tilting.

"He’s the wildcard,Zaara....not because of chance, but because his own father bought his place in the ga. Paid the Aetherions off. Tossed his own son into this hellhole like he was garbage. Like a dog to the slaughter."

I stared at her.

My world tilted.

Wildcard. That’s what they called him.

Not a mistake.

Not a twist of fate.

Chosen.

Paid for.

Thrown away.

"Why...?" I breathed, voice barely there. "Why would a father do that to his own blood? Why hate him that much?"

Jojo looked away. "Reynold Aston wanted a legacy. A clone of himself. But Vincent... he pushed back. He didn’t want to be part of the corruption. He refused to inherit the empire of lies."

Then she looked at again...this ti with eyes that burned.

"And there’s more. Rember that day we were all sitting around the firepit, sharing about our old lives before the Trials? When I told you I used to work for the elites?"

I nodded slowly. "You said a man hired you to wipe soone out, soone from Sector A with a daughter."

Jojo nodded. "That man... was Reynold Aston."

My stomach turned. I staggered a step back.

"What?"

"Yeah. He hired my team to kill a whistleblower who knew too much. Said he’d pay double if we got it done clean. The guy had a daughter."

I covered my mouth with both hands.

"Oh my God..."

"What the hell?" I whispered. "What the hella....is he that evil?"

Jojo didn’t hesitate. "Wicked is an understatent. He’s a demon in designer suits."

My head was spinning.

She went on, barely giving ti to breathe. "Reynold is one of the Aetherions’ biggest sponsors. He’s the reason these gas exist. He bankrolls them. And that’s how he got away with selling out his own blood."

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Vincent. The boy I used to dream about. The boy who once looked at like I was the only real thing left in this twisted world... was a product of that kind of hatred.

A pawn.

A betrayal wrapped in flesh.

I thought of Asha.

My best friend.

Dead...by his hand.

My vision blurred.

"Whatever they did to him..." I whispered, "whatever they broke inside him... he wasn’t always like this. Was he?"

Jojo’s voice was softer now. "No. He was... kind. Cold, sotis, yeah. But not cruel. Not like this."

"Then what changed him?"

She exhaled. "I don’t know. But I think... he’s been trying to kill the part of himself that still rembers who he used to be."

I let that sink in.

The boy I loved... the killer who destroyed everything I cared about... he didn’t fall.

He was pushed.

By the people who built this ga. The people who watch from their towers, laughing while we bleed.

Reynold Aston.

The Aetherions.

His own father.

Jojo winced as I tied the final layer of bandage around her shoulder, my hands trembling despite trying to stay calm.

Anyone else would’ve been knocked unconscious. But not Jojo. She stared straight ahead.

"I made so discoveries... when I was out there."

I paused mid-wrap. "What kind of discoveries?"

Her lips tightened. Then she looked straight in the eye.

"This place...it’s not just a ga, Zaara. It’s a goddamn experint house."

I froze. The bandage slipped from my fingers.

"...What?"