Birds fly over the streets of Saxet. A sense of despair looms in the air as the Resistance prepares for the annual tests. Seven deadly tests. Designed to kill and leave behind the Survivors, the ones who must be eliminated. With blood on their hands and a grave history with Saxet, Resistance leader Veronica Blanchard, will stop at nothing to find every last one. 16-year-old Mavis Sterling, naïve and unsure of her place in society, is selected to take part in the tests. With her life on the line, Mavis discovers she will do anything to survive. After the tests, Mavis flees to the abandoned city that surrounds Saxet. Battling between the loss of her family and the uncontrollable pull to the dark and mysterious R, Mavis' life will never be the same. As she navigates her new life and what dangers are around every corner, she discovers her hands were not made for playing piano, they were made for throwing knives.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.