Suzanne Young is the New York Times bestselling author of The Program series. Originally from Utica Young Author (). cover image of The Treatment. Can Sloane and James survive the lies and secrets surrounding them, or will The Program claim them in the end? Find out in this sequel to The Program, which. Read The Treatment by Suzanne Young for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android.
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Read "The Treatment" by Suzanne Young available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. Can Sloane and James survive the lies. Editorial Reviews. From Booklist. In this follow-up to The Program (), Sloane flees with the The Treatment (Program Book 2) by [Young, Suzanne]. The Treatment book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. This is an alternate Cover Edition for ASIN: BC7CWCan Sloa.
Now she spends most of her time training.
Training for what? I ask, watching as James spits a mouthful of blood onto the pavement. Dallas hit him harder than I thought. Self-defense, How to kill someone if she has to.
Or wants to.
He pauses. You sure?
I turn my shoulder so he can see the restraints still binding my hands. Cas apologizes, and gently holds my forearm so he can start cutting through the plastic.
Who knows, Cas says from behind me. My wrists pull apart as the bond is cut, and I rub the spot where the restraints have left my skin raw.
He drops the duffel bag at our feet and then takes my hands to look over the red marks. He runs his thumb gently over the creased skin, then lifts my wrist to his lips to kiss it. I hug him, pressing my cheek against his neck.
Me too. I pull back from James and see the look in his eyes, an uncertainty, as if he senses a familiar memory too. He opens his mouth to talk, but then Dallas calls to us from the front door. The mention of handlers is enough to make me move.
Even if for only a moment. She gestures to the space around us. This is just the front, she says. We live downstairs. Are there exits? I ask, peering behind her to see a dark staircase. She rolls her eyes. Are you the safety inspector, Sloane? Did they mention me? James asks. You were mentioned, Dallas tells James.
James smiles at me and I slap his shoulder. This is good. It means people must be questioning The Program. Why else would we be running from them?
Cas chuckles and walks past us to make his way downstairs. Dallas stays, her hand on the doorknob, leveling her gaze on James. They always do.
The Program controls the media, James. They control everything. Dallas seems unsettled about her comment, but she tries to cover it quickly, turning to hurry down the steps. So James is out of luck. We descend the narrow staircase to the lower level, which I realize is barely below the street, to enter the first room.
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The vents pump a steady flow of air as we pass, sending a chill over my arms. In the center of the room is a cracked leather couch and a few folding chairs, but otherwise the space is lonely.
Where is everyone? I ask, worry starting to build. I thought you said there were others.
You said Lacey was here. Dallas holds up her hands, telling me to calm down. Styrofoam peanuts have been swept into the corners.
The fluorescent lights above flicker and hum. It was the first safe house I came to after getting out of The Program. You went through The Program? Knowing this about her seems to draw his sympathy, but Dallas turns on him fiercely.
Ultimately when the stakes are at their highest, can Sloane and James survive the many lies and secrets surrounding them, or will The Program claim them in the end? Young Adult Fantasy.
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The Treatment Program Author s: Simon Pulse Availability: The Treatment Author s: Suzanne Young Publisher: site AU. site CA. site UK.View all 4 comments. The fluorescent lights above flicker and hum. I pull back from James and see the look in his eyes, an uncertainty, as if he senses a familiar memory too.
All I do is cause trouble, James responds in monotone. Alex London. She walks around to swipe our bag from the ground, hanging it lazily over her shoulder.