Life's Betrayal: Life's Series

By Rebekah Raymond

Haunted by his choices while acting as a spy, Benjamin Rodriguez's return to the vigilantes sparks uncertainty as he wrestles with his identity and the specter of betrayal. Amidst the turmoil, he finds solace and strength in his family. However, a new mission leaves him blinded and disfigured, pushing him to his limits. 

 

As Benjamin fights to adapt to his new reality, he must confront consuming demons that jeopardize  his cherished bonds with friends, family, and his soul mate. In Life's Betrayal, an introspective thriller, danger, intrigue, and moral ambiguity intertwine. This gripping novel explores the resilience of the human spirit and the lengths one will go to protect what matters most. 

 

With Intricate plot twists and complex characters, the story follows Benjamin's white-knuckled journey as he races against time to reclaim his place among the vigilantes. The stakes are high as he fights to save not only himself, but also the very essence of his existence. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebekah Raymond
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781775278047

Book preview

I built my life as I know it now on the foundation of loss and gain.

My parents, upon which my genetics were founded, had died by the time I was six years of age. I didn’t remember them much. Both expired in a heap of soot and ash. Flashes of nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, clicks of weapons as they were put together then taken apart, swatches of black. Delivered to the school on my sixth birthday, my mother walked away without a second look. This was all I recalled of my mother and father, though it wasn’t until much later that I recognized what the images meant.

The school they delivered me to became, quickly, my new home. As I was a younger student, Headmaster StPatrick and then Headmaster Ryder ensured I had the best of caretakers, the older students taking me as a pet, the teachers kind and patient.

Then, shortly into my stay, Ms Maya came.

I felt the love of a mother again. She would read to me when I was feeling particularly isolated. Learning how much I enjoyed listening to classical music, she gifted me a violin, encouraging me to learn its use. The headmaster especially loved to hear me play it.

The woman was a friend of the headmaster’s. Everyone was aware of that. And when their romance began, none of us gainsaid it. In fact, I grinned from ear to ear when they joined in union in my eighth year. My grin fit to split my face, my thighs gripped the tree branch I held onto to watch.

By then, Ms Maya’s true identity of Captain Seleah Gentian was revealed. Shortly after, my own ability as a soldier came to light as well.

The school, a front for the youth vigilante training complex below, fostered the knowledge I needed. It forged orphans and parented teenagers alike into hardened servants of order and discipline. And talent. We were drummed into it until we could live and die under the law of the vigilantes.

The vigilantes, the covert soldiers comprised mostly of genetically altered humans. Humans with what we called the ability. Made to endure, bred to live longer than regular humans. We could be maimed and tortured, cut and shot and sliced. As long as we weren’t dismembered entirely or blown to bits, we would live again and again, breath thrust back into our bodies until, nearly one hundred fifty years old, we breathed our last.

Aging slowed after our first deaths; libidos quickened. Our militaristic skills increased. We were young, both physically and mentally, well into our hundredth year. And then, we simply weren’t.

Behind it all, the Ryders, my mother and father of circumstance and misfortune.

At sixteen, I, a fresh-faced, calm, hard-working boy, became a private. Two years later, much transformed in spirit, I had graduated and completed a year of college. Near to my nineteenth day of birth, I decided to leave.

On a cool day near the end of the summer months, I rubbed my hands together vigorously, standing casually on the front gravel path at the entrance of the school. The Ryders approached, weary smiles cast in my direction. I smiled back, happy to see my caretakers one last time, unfailingly remorseful that it may very well be that.

They had placed me with a vigilante faction. Soldiers didn’t have high hopes for long lives. If I was lucky, I’d end up like Seleah. With one leg blown off from a bomb, a replacement had been fashioned so that not many people even knew about her disability. But she lived; that was what was important.

Benji. The captain—Captain Seleah—opened her arms to me. I went into them, wrapping my own around her slight frame, hugging her with a tenderness she didn’t reciprocate. Honed to strength in her deadly career, she held me like she knew it would be the last time. My sides ached; the thin muscular arms hidden beneath her jacket compressing me like a vise. Three inches taller than her, I bent enough to rest my face into her shoulder. It was a gesture we had done several times before, a bond between us I felt always, that of a mother and son never meant to be.

Separating, Seleah’s eyes were glassy, tears unshed. She hated seeing off her soldiers. The possible finality of the act was too succinct. Still, her hands drifted down my arms, my tight sweater stretching across my wide shoulders as they straightened. Her fingers clenched mine, squeezing them. "We will meet again, Benji," she said, just above a whisper.

Even she had doubts that was true.

Yes, ma’am, I whispered back. The sunlight glinted off her skin as she turned, creating deep shadows in the recesses of the many scars I had seen during the missions I had served under her. She spun in spot and walked across the gravel toward the door. She wouldn’t stay to watch her child leave, even a child who wasn’t really hers.

Benjamin.

My back straightened at the acknowledgement of me by my commander. Sir? I turned to him, facing his tempered resolve. A straight nose, strong chin, dimpled cheeks, warm chocolate-brown eyes, these were the features I had grown up with in the figure who looked over my future. Features I always wished I had. With tan skin, the Spanish heritage my biological parents had given me was apparent in my high cheekbones, my eyes such a dark brown they appeared almost black. But I knew my looks would never make me stand out. Not like the headmaster. Tomlin Ryder, my fatherly figure, was a handsome man. The younger teachers and the teenage girls made that clear enough.

His hair was not yet peppered, and his face kept the youth of a man not quite thirty. But by the number of years I had known him, he was an older man, at least forty to fifty by my measure. Unlike his wife, my commander had few scars that showed, aside from the puckered scrawl of a badly healed line sneaking out from the collar of his shirt.

Benjamin, he spoke again, close by. He held out his hand. I took it, our fingers grasping each other’s arms just below the elbows, vigilante style. Mind your commander, he is old-fashioned. Make a spot for yourself within the ranks as soon as possible. He held my stare. Continue with your studies. Always learn whatever anyone has to teach you.

I nodded solemnly, holding on as long as I could. Finally stepping back, it surprised me when the commander grabbed my arm, pulling me into him.

Come here, he said, keeping our arms tied as he wrapped the other around my back in a hug. Be safe, Benjamin. His words lowered to a whisper. And do not let anyone decide you are anything but what you are.

He released me, patting my shoulder, shrugging me toward the town car waiting to take me away. I went, confused by his words, uncertain I could live up to his prescribed life for me under such cryptic distress.

Proclivities

Ientered my new service fourteen hours after leaving my home of twelve years. Commander Ryder’s town car had driven through the afternoon, evening, and much of the night. It delivered me at a transport waystation in the early dawn, just as the sun’s rays were threatening to reach into the night sky. The driver let me exit the vehicle without aid. I collected my bag and the case containing the violin I had been gifted long ago by Seleah. My new comrades approached across the parking lot with an air of heavy-handed duty, their plainsman clothes seeming shiny and bright despite their drab, dirt-brown colour. With a hand signal vigilantes all knew well, identities were confirmed, and I followed them to their car. Through the back window I saw the driver of the commander’s car nod once, pulling away to return home.

Home.

Swallowing my emotions, I stared ahead, listening to the calm mumbling of the soldiers. With them ignoring me, we travelled another few hours in unfamiliar territory to a new faction, my new life.

The car came to a halt in a dark hangar, my handlers exiting casually. One soldier gestured to follow him. I did, still silent, my luggage hanging limply by my sides. I licked my lips in anticipation. It was still early morning, and all of us were bleary-eyed as the man led me to the locker room, pointing to a set of casual garbs resting, folded, on the bench. I shed my old clothes and donned the new ones with a quickness that probably surprised him, tying my boots correctly, tucking in the ends and ensuring my uniform hung properly. It was what I had trained for these few years past at the school complex.

Properly attired, I followed my wordless companion as the other met him. They led me to the mess hall for a quick coffee, something I had never been attuned to, and then back through the halls. I kept up with them, not knowing if I should but not having been told not to, and I was surprised when we entered a large room where forty soldiers already sat. They turned, smirking when I walked through the doors. My first impulse was to freeze and run, though I couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was the nerves of being in a new place. Perhaps it was just the impression that I was the newest punching bag for a handful of experienced soldiers.

I remembered what Commander Ryder had told me and stood my ground instead. My eyes flitted over the mass of officers, unsure if this was where I should be after all. I took in a deep breath. Letting it out calmly, I sat near the back in an empty seat.

A rough-spoken man in his late sixties burst through the door. All right, people, let’s get down to business. His face was downward, eyes focused on the tablet in his hands. He took large steps across the room, slapping the device down on the table at the front, rambling about the upcoming mission, inconsistently followed policies, rule violations... I couldn’t make sense of it all, one point melding into the next, important aspects drowned within the normalcy of others. My head swam, a headache brewing between exhaustion and overwhelming confusion.

Which brings me to one of our last points, he bellowed. We have a new recruit, Benjamin Rodriguez.

I sat straighter in my seat. It was the others’ first impression of me. I wanted to portray myself as what I had been at the complex—smart, vigilant, not the young man I really was.

Jeffrey. The captain pointed to a soldier in the row before me. His shoulders were wide and turned to the front as he was singled out. I want you to bring Rodriguez with you. Show him the ropes, all that. I expect you to prime him, so he’s ready to start on missions within the next few weeks.

Shit. The lieutenant assigned sat back in his chair, plunking his cup down hard enough that the black liquid sloshed over the sides. The captain at the front glanced at him once, then continued, oblivious. He turned to another officer to speak. Lieutenant Jeffrey crossed his arms over his chest and faced me.

"Listen, kid, he hissed, I never signed on for babysitting duty, but Captain Gregor ordered it, so...I’m going to show you these things once, and that’s it."

I blinked at the hostility in his voice, averting my gaze from his dominant one. My fingers rubbed over the creases in my new pants. I used the tactile nature of the stiff fabric to distract my heart from its nervous beating.

At the front of the room, captain Gregor dismissed his people. The rest of the officers stood. I did the same.

Hey. A hand landed firmly on my chest. My eyes went forward again. You hear me, kid?

I stood still, taking a deep breath, forcing my answer to be even. "Yes, sir, but I am familiar with basic procedure and protocol."

Jeffrey laughed out loud. The others remaining chuckled. Is that right? Where the hell did you learn that from? Did your nursemaid teach it to you? He made gestures to his comrades, still laughing at his own joke.

I wanted to back up, his hand invading my personal space. Remembering my training, and what the commander had told me, I stood taller. Even at my average stature of five foot five inches, the lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. No, sir, from Commander Ryder and Captain Seleah.

There was a hesitation, surprise across the brows of some others watching. The chuckles petered out. Then the lieutenant burst out laughing, taking a step closer to me, balling his fists at his hip. This time I did back up.

The Ryders? Shit, you’re from the school. I’ll tell you a secret. He leaned over me, the scent of black coffee on his breath overwhelming me as he narrowed his eyes and hissed, Commander Ryder is nothing more than a teat-dealer for all you orphans. And the captain, well, fuck...she might as well retire now for all the good she’s worth. We’ve all heard the stories. She’s damaged goods, in so many ways. Neither got their titles legitimately, and it’s not like they’ve made a lick of contribution to our—

Jeffrey flew, landing hard on the table behind him. The surface cracked, tablets and drinks spilling onto the floor. I straightened; my fist still raised. Seeing overtop it, across the room, the captain’s face was red, his glare steely.

What the hell are you doing, Private?

My face blanched. The small crowd silenced, soldiers in various states of leaving all pausing. I lowered my fist, my breath constricting. I was afraid for a moment of the punishment I would receive within my first hour of my first assignment.

Perhaps my last.

I shuffled, turning as the captain, frowning, marched up the side of the room. I lowered my face, staring at my still-shiny boots. Gregor came before me. I asked you a question, Private. I expect an answer.

Standing at attention, I looked up again and tried not to meet his eyes, failing horribly. He insulted my previous commander and my captain, sir.

I don’t know what the captain expected, but this wasn’t it. He blinked twice, turning his ire on his lieutenant, who had got to his feet, rubbing his jaw. It was already red and swelling. Jeffrey scowled. No, sir. He lies. This is exactly why we shouldn’t be taking in these snot-nosed kids from the school. They don’t know what the hell—

You’re from StPatrick’s school? The captain turned to me again, hands resting on his hips. Behind him, the others mumbled.

Yes, sir, although Commander Ryder controls it now.

He nodded, just once. And your captain?

Captain Seleah, sir.

A hiss escaped through the man’s teeth. He stared at Jeffrey. "In the future, Lieutenant, I would advise you not insult the names of Commander Ryder and Captain Seleah. They have done more for our kind and this faction than you could even guess. As for this one—he shrugged his head my way—soldiers from the school are the most disciplined, skilled recruits we can get at this age."

The lieutenant muttered under his breath.

The captain turned back to me. He stared long enough that I had to fight not to squirm under his gaze. Omari, Kesien. A male and female officer each stepped through the small crowd that had gathered. Take Lieutenant Jeffrey to the brig. He’s going to be their guest for the rest of the day.

As the couple nodded and stepped to either side of Jeffrey, the man sneered in my direction. Taking an arm each, they ignored him as he shrugged off their aid.

A darkness took over the captain’s visage. He turned to the group, his eyes narrowing. I don’t like insubordination, Lieutenant. You’d best remember that.

Shocked, the injured man’s jaw fell open, cheeks reddening, while the other soldiers escorted him from the room.

When they were gone, the captain turned back to me. Recruits from the school are always excellent. I wish the commander had given me your background to begin with. We could have avoided this. Davies?

Yes, sir? A broad man with black cropped hair and even darker eyes against his coal-toned skin nodded and, with a quick smile, stepped forward.

Show him the ropes, the captain finished.

Davies grinned. Yes, sir.

The captain made to leave but turned back at the last moment. He lowered his voice. I can’t let this action go unpunished, Rodriguez, I hope you know that. We don’t allow it among our soldiers outside of the training rooms.

I nodded, flushing. Yes, sir.

Two-hour daily dish duty for a week in the mess, the captain said before stepping closer, hand out. Pausing, I watched the hand outstretched, realizing after far too long what he wanted. I took it in our customary grip of the forearms. Welcome to our faction, Rodriguez. He brought me close. Watch out for allies. And Rodriguez?

Yes, sir?

They’re good people, those who come from the school. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The skin around his eyes crinkled with amusement. I should know.

Punishments and Rewards

So my days were spent in training and my evenings in the company of the kitchen staff, who were amused by the vigour I put into the assigned dish duty. I enjoyed being around others who weren’t soldiers, soaking up their tales of normalcy and desires. They would never translate to fighting and dying on a battlefield. I relished in the opportunity, working long past my prescribed two hours most evenings, even volunteering to continue—an offer which was accepted with suspicion.

That is, until I met the faction commander.

Commander Desep had been away during my first week at the faction. His time was hurried in meetings and catching up during the second.

It was during a training test that the officer came for me, demanding my presence. My instructor, a shrewd woman with quick wit and physical strength on her side, released my arms and legs from the hold she had bid me to show. I fell to the ground, winded, the lieutenant shrugging. You’ll redo the test when you come back, she said, turning to saunter off to the next mat.

I sighed. That test had been hours in, with only the rest of the holds to show until my instructor signed off on my abilities with it. But you didn’t say no when your commander called.

Do I have time to shower and change? I asked my new handler. She glanced at her tablet, then nodded firmly. Make it quick.

I did, prompted to be even quicker when the woman followed me into the locker room, even more so when she sat on a bench around the corner from the shower stalls. Worrying that I was in trouble, I stripped, sloughing off in minutes. Exiting the shower with my towel wrapped around my middle, I was uncomfortably aware of my female shadow following me to my locker. While the faction did not have designated female and male locker rooms, each gender seemed to prefer their own company during showering and changing, although apparently the rule was not set in stone. Around me, other soldiers meandered in, thinking nothing of her presence.

Opening my locker, I retrieved the clothes, glancing at my companion. She looked casually my way, smirking at my somewhat futile attempt to keep modesty behind the lower locker door. Sighing, I let the towel fall, going about my business.

When I was done, I shut the door and turned to her, tucking in my shirt, ensuring my rank was affixed to my shoulder correctly. My private’s bars felt light, their weight inconsequential. As a private, perhaps it was. The masters and council had agreed that the rank one achieved at the school held little value when out in the real world. If a faction accepted a child-soldier, they would begin again, the rank of private bestowed on them.

There were exceptions—there were always exceptions. Adults like Seleah and Tomlin, who had vast experience, kept their rank when joint missions were performed with other factions. But the younger soldiers knew they were expected to relent to the elder vigilantes.

I shook my head to myself. My rank didn’t really matter. I would be a lieutenant again, if I had any say in it. And I knew if I respected my team and superiors and followed protocol and made a name for myself, I would be.

I followed my guide to Commander Desep’s office, pausing while the lieutenant knocked, entering when my commander bid. He spoke to the screen on his desk while I stood at attention.

I agree, Outou, but we need to safeguard that passage to the east. Too many of our people are being picked off with those piddly missions by those bastards. Turning, he noticed me there and waved to a chair. Listen, Outou, I’ll have to call you back. Ryder’s new boy just came in. Leaning forward, he hit a button on the screen. Sitting back, he nodded once, folding his hands together. So, Mr Rodriguez, we finally meet.

I parted my lips to speak, my feelings a bit hurt when the commander referred to me as a boy, though I reasoned I was merely that in the sight of those who had been with the faction longer than I had been alive. Instead of the correction, I nodded once.

The commander watched me carefully, his eyes scanning my expression. And already in a scrap first day in, I heard. While I understand the merit in being loyal, I don’t approve of fighting amongst my officers. You hear me?

I averted my eyes. I didn’t like where this was headed.

The commander spoke again, a sharp edge to his words. I asked you a question, Private.

My eyes darted to his. I sat straighter as I tried to push down the heat in my cheeks. Yes, sir, I said, with more confidence than I felt.

So, the commander said, satisfied by my answer, as he gazed over the tablet at his fingertips. You are from the school. Good. We could use some officers who know what the hell is going on from the start. Ryder reported you are a decent shot and have a natural ability at hand-to-hand. He glanced back at me, pausing with his intense stare.

I stared back. He’s waiting for an answer.

I suppose so, sir.

Standing, Commander Desep leaned over his desk. "I suppose so? I’ve got to say, Rodriguez, so far you aren’t as impressive as your record led me to believe."

My face flushed on fire. I wanted to say something, anything. I wanted to defend my title as one of the better officers in Commander Ryder’s retinue, as I knew I was. But in this place, now before the commander, I felt it held no credence.

The commander sighed. We will have to put you to the test, then.

Test, sir? I felt stupid, my words too simple, too abbreviated for anything but a troglodyte.

The commander’s lips curved upward. Of course. Stick by Davies’ side, Rodriguez, and very soon we will suit you up and test your abilities. Unless, that is, you don’t think you are ready for it.

I...yes, sir, I can be ready.

Commander Desep’s shrewd, barbed gaze cut through my own.

I straightened. "I am ready, sir."

Call-back

Commander Desop’s test came later than he had wanted and sooner than I hoped. Although I had done as our commander suggested and stayed close to Davies, I still felt uneasy the first time I dressed in official vigilante mission capacity.

Davies, ever compassionate and understanding, ensured I had everything I needed and nudged me into the line with him. We sat on the helicopter together, fought together. After, we were debriefed together. 

Within a short time we became close friends, spending our waking hours training and eating at each other’s side. He taught me how to live and breathe a vigilante life, and in return, I taught him what it was to have a companion with unfailing support. We shared jokes and tears and stories. Unexpected as it was to me, Davies had committed himself to become—what others called—my big brother. In the school, we had called it something else. Wingman. Close friend. Comrade.

Davies was there the first time I died, as was common with our people. One minute I was up, running, shooting, yelling acknowledgements to my comrades in the field. The next—nothing.

I had been shot in the head.

When I woke, Davies was there, resting a supportive hand on my thigh and nodding to the bullet the medic had extracted. I nodded back, knowing with this first death my life had really begun.

Our captains saw we worked well together, so we were nearly always in arms at the same time. Few exceptions occurred, the most noted being when my presence was ordered back to the place it all began—the school.

Fresh into my new lieutenancy and my thirties, Desop had realized my strong ability to organize and mobilize. To that end, he began giving me duties within the office as well, inadvertently training me for his number one position. It wasn’t a task I took lightly, knowing I could be upended if it served. But it was that training that leant itself to a specific position on a mission that changed the rest of my life.

It was a cool day when I stepped out of my faction-black SUV and into the echoing hangar. Glancing around, the space buzzed with an uncomfortable silence, like the heavy weight of death. And, as a captain approached me, I knew that feeling wasn’t far off. The young woman stood at attention when she came to me, and I waited for her introduction. But I quickly realized, despite her captain status within the youth vigilantes, I was a full vigilante and, as such, held higher rank within the real world. Still, she was a captain in her own world, and I sought to respect her space.

Lieutenant Benjamin Rodriguez, ma’am. I held out my arm for her to take. Her eyes flashed with surprise before she took it.

Captain Yana Jervais, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming.

The niceties aside, I glanced around the space. It’s quiet. I expected I was being called back for a mission.

Her brief, amused smile and lighted eyes deflated into furrowed brows and a frown. Your commander didn’t brief you?

I shook my head. Just that Commander Ryker was called away and I was required to help with the management of the school temporarily. But surely Captain Seleah or another captain could do this?

Her frown deepened. Let’s go to the office to talk.

As we approached the elevator of the complex, I halted briefly, my confusion changing to concern. My mind flooded with memories of so much of my life; friends, rooms I inhabited, classrooms that I learned in. All of it contained the same influencing factor—Seleah and Tomlin Ryder. If not for them, I didn’t know where I would have ended up. Dead, likely. Destitute, surely. The school had been the house I had lived in, but the Ryders had been home.

And for neither of them to be greeting me, not here at all...it was as if my home was now indescribably barren.

The trip up to the second floor took forever, Jervais leading me silently through the quiet halls of the mid-morning to the headmaster’s office. There the secretary gave me a half-hearted smile with a bleary-eyed expression that worried me further.

I’m sorry, but I need to know what’s going on, I questioned firmly once the door had closed behind us.

Jervais stepped up to the desk but didn’t go behind, sitting in one of the two wing-backed chairs instead. The commander and captain’s son was taken, Lieutenant, she said firmly.

Their son... I sat as well and squinted, trying to think of the name. Arkem? Who took him? And how?

Jervais shifted in her seat. A woman from their past, Daniella Simonin. Arkem was at a conference and disappeared from there. All we had is a short message from Arkem’s comm and a concerned call from a senator’s daughter from the conference after he was gone. She said he started acting nervous and passed out at a dinner, and then, he was just...gone.

I felt myself blanche. Simonin. I had heard the tales, just as anyone older in the school does. But it was from rumours and stories after I had left the school that I gained a better picture of what my adoptive parents had endured. I had been only a child then, and remembered well the night Seleah had stumbled through the gates, bruised and bloody, collapsing onto the gravel of the school path...

I cleared my throat from the choking nervousness that crept up my spine. So the commander went to find him?

Jervais looked me firm in the eyes. They both did.

I swallowed hard. Both.

They were planning to put our head doctor in charge—she knows the school operations well enough and has been here forever but... She looked away.

Doc Cathy. Everyone who had been a soldier in the school had been treated by Doc Cathy. And by normal human standards, she had already been old when I had left years ago. From the tears threatening to overflow, I suspected she hadn’t just left the school as well.

And the stakes, the ones I didn’t know existed moments before, rose.

I stood, rolling my shoulders back. What do need from me?

Jervais stood slowly. Commander Ryker said to call Commander Outou if anything went wrong. He said to send someone to watch over the school if we lost communication with them for over twelve hours.

I nodded firmly. And you haven’t heard from him since...

Yesterday morning, sir. She bit her lip. I don’t know what to do.

I took in a deep breath, glancing at the