Dualed
Elsie Chapman
Language: English
Pages: 320
ISBN: 0307931552
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The Hunger Games meets Matched in this high-concept thriller where citizens must prove their worth by defeating the other version of themselves—their twin.
Two of you exist. Only one will survive.
West Grayer is ready. She's trained for years to confront her Alternate, a twin raised by another family. Survival means a good job, marriage—life.
But then a tragic misstep leaves West questioning: Is she the best version of herself, the version worthy of a future?
If she is to have any chance of winning, she must stop running not only from herself, but also from love . . . though both have the power to destroy her.
Fast-paced and unpredictable, Elsie Chapman's suspenseful YA debut weaves unexpected romance into a chilling, unforgettable world.
Praise for Dualed:
"A gripping, thought-provoking thriller that keeps your heart racing and your palms sweaty. . . . The kind of book Katniss Everdeen and Jason Bourne would devour." —Andrew Fukuda, author of the Hunt series
"Full of unexpected turns. . . . Fans of the Divergent trilogy will want to read this imaginative tale." —VOYA
"A fast ride from first to final pages, Dualed combines action and heart." —Mindy McGinnis, author of Not a Drop to Drink
"Intense and swift, Dualed grabbed me by the throat and kept me turning pages all the way to the end. Romance and action fans alike will love it." —Elana Johnson, author of the Possession series
"Stylish, frenetic, and violent, . . . the textual equivalent of a Quentin Tarantino movie."—Publishers Weekly
"A double dose of intensity and danger in this riveting tale of survival, heartache, and love."—Kasie West, author of Pivot Point
"This thought-provoking survival-of-the-fittest story will leave you breathless for more." —Ellen Oh, author of Prophecy
"Clever suspense—here, stalking is a two-way street." —Kirkus Reviews
From the Hardcover edition.
Tritium Gambit (Max & Miranda, Book 1)
Trust the Saint (Simon Templar 'The Saint', Book 35)
Vendetta for the Saint (Simon Templar 'The Saint', Book 37)
Grayer.” And we dance, the clang of hammered blades echoing throughout the classroom, each one a reminder of how close we are to death. “You’re trying to kill me, remember, not tickle me with the damn thing!” Baer yells at me, when my sword makes one too many wild swings. “I’m using my left arm!” I shout back at him as he swings. “What do you expect?” I circle him, my arm on fire, my chest one flaming knot. Baer stops short. Doesn’t even flinch as my sword barely misses his shoulder. His face
“Linde.” A huge sigh, the sound bringing to mind my own mother, dealing with the lot of us. “I’ll be right back, okay? And then we’ll figure things out.” “Fine. But I’m still having Xave over! You can’t stop me from seeing my boyfriend, you know.” “Just get inside, Linde! And lock the door!” The door kicks shut against the frame, and the woman climbs into the car and pulls away. I’m scrambling to my feet, gun in hand, thinking fast, wondering if I have time to get inside before the mother
assignment?” Luc asked Aave. “No one’s that stupid. He’s got to know Hoult’s out here somewhere, looking for him.” “Hoult says his Alt’s got the IQ of a june bug. He’s already fallen behind two years. Him switching between Saturdays and Sundays is his idea of not being stupid.” Luc shook his head. “Wow, Hoult really lucked out, didn’t he?” “All right,” Aave said, “so it sounds like we’re good to go.” He looked over at me. “Don’t forget, West. It’s about what to do, but also what not to do, got
to be the first. If I can’t think around this … if my Alt were to catch me off guard somehow and I couldn’t find a way to recover— “Time.” I scramble to my feet, scan my surroundings again, turning around once, twice. The sight lines at eye level are no longer workable, so I scan higher—the roofline of the buildings around me. 08:47. Thirteen minutes left and I’m getting desperate, my throat going tight, looking for anything now—when I see it. The fire escape on the side of the four-story
quiet. Breathe. I just have to breathe. Because my five minutes are quickly running out. I sprint to my parents’ bathroom. The half-used tube of toothpaste on the counter … my father’s shaver … my mother’s favorite beaded necklace in its little tray that my father never put away … I feel a distant ache at the normalcy of the sight, an ache that’s always eager to grow bigger. But I stifle it and then I’m searching through the medicine cabinet like I’m hunting for a fix. Bottles clank and fall
