by Dylan Steel
A hollow pit formed in Sage’s stomach. “He could say we’re still there. Still a threat to Eprah.”
“And take even more drastic measures against the people,” Weston said grimly. “I expect things will only continue to get worse. I wouldn’t put it past him to attack on his own people just to blame us.”
Sage’s heart twisted in her chest. Things were already bad enough. If Mr. Gaztok had his way, every remaining ounce of freedom would be stripped from Eprah’s citizens. Worse, most people wouldn’t resist—they’d bought the lies that this was all for their own good, and they’d give up everything, even their own lives, to ensure that the great Eprah still stood strong. All for the sake of one man’s ego.
“What I’d like to know,” he said, flicking his eyes to hers, “is whether the people have been responding to the news we gave them or if Mr. Gaztok is simply using it as an excuse to grab more control. Or both, perhaps.”
“You think it worked? You think people really did believe us? That they cared?” She held her breath, allowing the smallest kernel of hope to take root.
“I think I can’t trust Mr. Gaztok’s word,” he said carefully. “I need to see what’s happening in the city for myself. If there’s a chance we could gain more allies before this all blows up in our faces… We can’t afford not to try.”
Her hands clenched at her sides. “I want to come.”
A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”
16. BURNING
Weston paused outside the door and put a finger to his lips. Sage nodded, and his expression turned even more somber as he dropped his hand to his bracelet, running his fingers over its edge. She couldn’t help but stare at it a little worriedly. There was no reason for her not to trust him anymore, and she knew she was safe while wearing a counterfeit bracelet, but it still made her nervous whenever anyone touched their bracelet around her.
As soon as he put his hand on the palm scanner, the door popped open with a soft click, and they slipped inside the small room. Closing the door behind them, Weston scanned the room quickly as Sage stood frozen in place. Except for the stains and lumps on the couch, the apartment was identical to the one she’d shared with Everett for a few months. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“We only have a minute to talk before the cameras can read us again,” Weston said, striding the length of the room and checking every corner to make sure they were alone.
Numb, Sage stood just inside the doorway without responding, watching as Weston withdrew a wad of something gray and sticky from his pocket. He threw it above his head, landing on the black hemisphere on the ceiling. It wrapped itself over the dome as if it had a mind of its own, and she could’ve sworn she saw a string of blue lights run along it for an instant before it returned to its dull gray color.
“What’d you just do?” she managed, pulling herself from her daze.
He threw her a sideways glance. “I bought us more than a few minutes. The room is safe for us to stay in now. If they scan through the cameras, this one will show an empty apartment. They can’t hear our conversation either.”
She rubbed her hands over her arms. “But what if they noticed us coming in?”
“They won’t.”
“That’s… optimistic.” She rolled her eyes.
His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you knew.”
“Knew?” Sage raised an eyebrow.
“My bracelet.” He raised his wrist as if that was enough of an explanation, but she stared back at him blankly. “Some of the counterfeits have the ability to knock out surveillance. It’s a bit risky, and the effect doesn’t last long, but it can be quite helpful at times.”
“That’s why you were messing with it out there,” she said slowly, putting the pieces together. Something about his actions tugged at an old memory, and her eyes snapped to his. “Mr. Walsh could do that with his bracelet too, couldn’t he? That’s why we could talk sometimes and not others.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “It only responds to a specific pattern, but I try not to make it obvious. Most people would just think it’s a nervous habit, though I’d like to think I don’t actually have any of those.” He frowned.
“Of course not. You’re too perfect for that,” Sage teased, fighting back a grin.
His eyebrow quirked up, his lips threatening to curl into a smile. “You think I’m perfect?”
“No,” she said quickly, wishing she hadn’t said anything.
“Mmm,” he said, not pressing the matter any further—though she could’ve sworn she saw him grin as he turned away.
“So why here? Why this apartment?” Sage asked, changing the subject. “It’s a mess.”
“This is the poorest area of the city. These people have the most to lose by blindly following Eprah’s rules. If there’s been a reaction to our message, it will be here.”
She chewed on the inside of her lip as she went to the window. “What kind of reaction are you expecting?” Pushing back the curtain, she squinted at the people walking around, going about their days oblivious to the struggle raging in the background.
“We’ll know it if we see it. Just remember: we’re here to observe, not get involved.” Weston scanned the street below them, then pulled her back from the window. “We’re too exposed here.”
“I thought we could talk freely.”
“Inside the apartment, sure.”
“We are inside the apartment.”
“But the windows can be seen from the courtyard, which means we can too.” He jerked his head toward the curtain. “We wait for dusk before we venture outside.”
Sage hesitated. “Isn’t that really close to the curfew Mr. Gaztok just started?”
A grin slowly spread over his face. “Exactly.”
***
“Remember, if we do see something, stay back and don’t say a word.” Weston’s breath brushed her ear as they exited the courtyard. She shivered. “They’re likely to scan footage later, and we don’t need to give them a reason not to trust our loyalty. And if we join in anything or get too close, we may get pulled aside by the Peace—and that would certainly put a damper on our little excursion.”
Sage nodded, keeping her lips pressed tightly together. She wasn’t about to give Eprah another reason to have her killed. And she certainly didn’t want to get dragged into the Peace.
Tugging her collar higher to fight off the chill in the early spring air, she shuddered. What would Mr. Gaztok and the other benefactors do if they knew what the two of them were doing—if they knew they were the ones behind the supposed unrest in the city. What fate would be in store for them?
On the other hand, maybe Mr. Gaztok had overreacted, twisting circumstances to his advantage so that he could make a power grab. It was just as likely as citizens protesting openly in the streets—maybe more.
Those thoughts flew from her mind as Weston’s hand slipped firmly around hers. She sucked in a breath and glanced up at him. Under a thickly layered disguise, his features were nearly unrecognizable again, but he wore a familiar mask of steely resolve as he led her into the heart of the city. It was strangely comforting.
Tucking a curl from her black wig behind her ear, she soon realized they weren’t the only ones skirting the edges of the curfew, risking the wrath of the Peace. It would be a few more days before bracelets could be updated to enforce all of Mr. Gaztok’s new restrictions, and it seemed that most citizens wanted to take full advantage of the brief freedom they had. The streets were more crowded than she remembered.
They passed through several alleys, down one block after another before they heard it—the roar of voices and crash of glass and scrape of bricks. Sage’s heart beat faster in nervous anticipation as they rounded the corner in the direction of the noise. Weston stopped in the shadows, tightening his grip on her as soon as the madness came into view.
The smell hit her first. Acrid, smoky bitterness.
Then came the hea
t.
The fountain in front of the Cabinet of the People had been drained and, apparently, filled with fuel. Instead of bubbling water, the stone basin was filled with flames that licked higher and higher, casting an eerie, unnatural glow on the building behind it. A large crowd had gathered around it, dancing and cheering.
And the crowd was dragging people toward the flames.
Sage’s heart stopped. She watched in horror as a group of six men converged on a man attempting to exit the building quietly. He was older, she realized, and he looked a little familiar. Probably someone Everett had worked under in his brief time at the Cabinet. This man had managed to survive Eprah, to play by the rules for years.
But no more.
Before he could run, one man smashed a bottle against his head as another drove a punch deep into his gut. The others each grabbed a limb, picking him up and carrying him without giving him the option of using his bracelet against them. He had no way to fight back.
The man’s frantic begging reached Sage’s ears, and her stomach twisted suddenly, threatening to release its contents as she watched the man being dragged toward the bonfire. She started to take a step forward automatically, but Weston’s arm flexed beside her, locking her in place.
The laughter and jeering couldn’t drown out his screams. Or the void his voice left behind when he finally stopped.
“What have they done?” she said faintly, swaying on her feet. “This isn’t…”
Weston didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. It was obvious what the crowd was doing. They were picking off anyone who looked like they’d benefited from Eprah’s rules. Murdering them. Getting their own perverted form of justice. The man Sage had watched die was only one of many.
Ash drifted through the air, stinging her eyes, mingling with the tears she didn’t realize were falling. Her throat ached as she stared at the chaos before them.
Fear built in her chest, rising higher and higher until she could barely breathe. Even if Weston wasn’t recognized, his age was still obvious under his disguise. For once, he was in more danger than she was.
She swallowed, squeezing his hand. “We should go. Before…” Before you’re recognized.
He must have agreed because she felt him pulling her back wordlessly. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t turn away from the flames until they’d gone around the corner—not until her view was completely blocked.
Weston picked up the pace, forcing her to step quickly as they put some distance between themselves and those fueling the pyre. He didn’t slow for several blocks, not until the echoes of screams had faded far behind them.
Sage pressed her free hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow its unrelenting pounding. What they’d just witnessed… Even Weston looked a bit pale.
“That wasn’t what I expected,” she whispered.
Weston’s jaw tightened. He rubbed his bracelet and continued looking straight ahead as they walked briskly through the streets, avoiding eye contact with anyone they passed.
“They’ve been on edge for awhile. They just needed a nudge, and that’s what they got. What we gave them.” He flicked his gaze toward her as he continued in a low voice, “But no, that certainly wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped for.”
She winced as a window shattered nearby, the sound of breaking glass echoing over the stones, that same glass crunching underfoot. The worst of the city’s ire may have been centered around the main government buildings, but that didn’t mean citizens were acting submissive and obedient here. If she had to guess, at least a third of the city was ignoring the curfew and taking matters into their own hands. And there were no officers in sight.
“Weston, these people…” She swallowed back the revulsion of seeing a man burned alive, unable to force herself to say anything more.
“I know.” His voice was quiet.
“They aren’t the type of people we’re after, are they?” She couldn’t mask the horror in her voice. They’d come here hoping to find new Lawless to fight alongside them, but she couldn’t imagine even trying to hold a conversation with people who brutally slaughtered one another without so much as an accusation of wrongdoing.
He didn’t say anything at first. In fact, she wasn’t sure he’d even heard her, but then he finally broke the silence. “It’s a different sort of Lawlessness. One that cannot be tolerated under any government.” His expression was grim. He refused to meet her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean their outrage can’t help us for a time.”
She fought to keep her face neutral, knowing they might still be seen, but she couldn’t help stiffening a little. “You can’t be serious.”
“We can’t always choose our ideal allies, Sage. Sometimes we have to align ourselves with one enemy to fight another. These people are ready for a change, but they’ve never been given the chance to see what real justice and freedom could really look like.”
She stopped, frozen in place, staring at him in horror. “You’re excusing what they did?”
“Not excusing, but…” Weston let out a slow breath. “Have you ever stripped a Chance?”
“What?” She blinked at the abrupt change in subject.
“I have,” he continued, “and I didn’t know if it was the last one or one of many. I could’ve killed someone with barely a thought. And I know I’ve contributed to several deaths.”
His blue eyes cut to hers. “There are times I might not have regretted it—being the final say in someone else’s last breath. But there are others that I know I would’ve. Why should I have that sort of power over someone else’s life? The power to decide whether someone else lives or dies? A power not only sanctioned but encouraged by our laws. That is the great atrocity that we live with every day.”
Her cheeks burned crimson. She’d stripped Chances. Sometimes in self-defense, and those weren’t times she regretted, but—she’d also reached for her bracelet in anger. She could’ve easily killed someone—even Everett, someone she cared about. And even if she wasn’t the one to deliver the final blow, she’d been a part of death in more ways than she cared to admit.
She wasn’t really any better than the others, was she?
“I think we’ve seen enough for one night,” Weston said gently, taking her hand again.
“Ok,” she said numbly, trying to shake the shame she now felt. “Are we going back to the apartment?”
There was a brief flash of guilt on his face as he glanced at her. “I actually have other plans for the rest of our evening. We’re meeting someone.”
Her shoulders tensed. More secrets. “And when were you planning on telling me?”
“This seemed like as good a time as any.” He hesitated before adding, “And I didn’t think you’d like it if you knew.”
17. AGREEMENT
Weston’s long strides fell quickly as the darkness chased away twilight, and Sage had to hurry to stay by his side.
Now that curfew had officially fallen, the streets were beginning to fill with Peace officers. It was surprisingly easy to avoid them, though. The officers had enough concerns with the vandalism and looting and unsanctioned murders that they didn’t even glance at the couple rushing through the shadows.
A tendril of unease slithered down her back as she realized they were nearing one of the city gates. This was a death zone on a normal day, but on a night like this…
Gritting her teeth, Sage stepped closer to Weston, unwilling to let him get too far ahead of her.
“Where exactly are we going?” she asked under her breath, careful not to speak loudly enough to be heard by the officers on the opposite end of the street. They were in the middle of detaining two teenagers who’d broken down a residential door, so she wasn’t too worried about drawing their attention.
He glanced over his shoulder at her as they rounded the corner. “We’re here.”
Stopping abruptly, Weston wrapped his arm around Sage, pulling her tightly to his side. Her stomach fluttered in response, but she forced herself to pay a
ttention as he shot a quick look around the alley and knocked on the door in front of them.
A gruff voice responded, and Weston muttered something unintelligible through the door. It cracked open a moment later, and Weston didn’t waste any time pulling her inside.
The door slammed behind them as soon as they stepped over the threshold. Sage jumped, spinning wildly as she took in the room and the people sitting in front of her. And at the head of the table sat Dred, studying them carefully. Her heart slammed against her chest.
Rogues. And Dred seemed to be the one in charge. What was going on here?
She started to take a step backward, but Weston’s grip on her waist held firm, keeping her in place.
“I assume this isn’t a social call.” Dred gestured for them to take a seat.
“Your assumptions are well-founded.” Weston nudged Sage forward with him to the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit beside him. “Of course, I can’t think of a single occasion we’ve met under that would be considered merely social.”
“Of course not.” Dred’s lips stretched into a smile that left Sage feeling cold. She fought back a shiver. “Your life isn’t simple enough for that. You always want something.”
“And I always pay handsomely.”
“I recall.” Dred’s gaze drifted lazily to Sage, remaining on her until she shifted her weight in her chair. He grinned at her knowingly, then settled his attention back on Weston. “But does she know that?”
“She’s right here,” Sage ground out, clenching her teeth as she glared back at him. “And she can hear you.”
“You’re a bit feistier than I remember,” Dred said in a bored tone.
“I—”
“We’re not here to go over the past,” Weston interrupted before Sage could finish making another retort. Under the table, he put a hand on her knee, squeezing it in an unspoken request for silence.
“By all means.” Dred swept a hand in front of himself. “What brings the great Weston Bennick to my door this evening?”