Beyond Surrender (Beyond #9)

by Kit Rocha

  The fractures in his composure grew. Watching him directly instead of through the camera spared Nessa the close-up of his face, but his leg was shaking harder and his hands curled into tense fists. He looked brittle, strung so tightly that one gentle touch might shatter him.

  Markovic paused, and his chest heaved with a single hitching breath. "Peterson came to me with a Council decree—an order to bomb Sector Two. On paper, their goal was to target militant operations and curb the rebellion. In reality, they knew the sector held no strategic value. The bombing was a message, a warning—oppose us, and we'll murder the most helpless among you. When I refused to sign off on it, he had me arrested."

  Across the rooftop, Lex turned away.

  "Put down your arms." It sounded less like a plea and more like a command. "The sector rebellion isn't aggression, it's a reaction, and their fight isn't with the people of Eden. Their fight is with the corrupt leaders who hold us all hostage. The men who preach purity in all things while they hide their addictions and underage lovers, who demand integrity and then laugh about the idea behind closed doors. The hypocrites who talk about the sanctity of life...and then wreak destruction on a sector full of children."

  He began to stand, and Jared touched Nessa's arm. She widened the shot and followed Markovic, framing him against the backdrop of the garden.

  He stood there, tall but on trembling legs, and shook his head. "But it can end here. You have the power to say no more. You deserve leaders who will lead, public servants who will serve, who care about more than wealth and unchecked power. You deserve to take back your city from the real threat here. You're the only ones who can."

  Nessa held her breath as he stood there, his words a powerful call to action. Something sparked hot and bright beneath the pain in his eyes, the same thing Dallas had. Charisma or power of will or whatever it took to inspire people, to make them loyal. To make them believe.

  Jared reached over and cut the recording. "It's off."

  The moment he said the words, Markovic stumbled away from the chair and around the side of the greenhouse. A second later, the sound of retching filled the still morning air.

  Lili exhaled softly. "We need to get him back to Three. Let Doc look him over."

  "No," Lex said firmly. "He's not going back to the hospital. I promised."

  Jared rubbed one hand over his face. "Lex—"

  "The man's weak, not dying." She turned around, her eyes dry but red. "He still needs care, but he can get it here. No more hospitals."

  Lili nodded. "All right. He can have my room. We'll get him settled in."

  Lex didn't move. "Tell him…" But she never finished. "Never mind. I'm sure he knows."

  They helped Markovic down the stairs, and Nessa set the tablet aside and crossed the roof to stand beside Lex. "You okay?"

  "No, I'm not." She turned her red-rimmed gaze on Nessa. "You have no idea how many times I said I wanted to watch Sector Two burn."

  "Lex." Nessa wrapped her arms around the older woman. "C'mon. We say shit we don't mean. I do it fifteen times a day. I told Ace this morning that I hoped he got his dick caught in his zipper."

  "That's the problem, Nessa. I did fucking mean it." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I didn't make it happen, I know that. But I didn't stop it, either."

  Nessa held on tighter. "You couldn't have stopped it. Hell, if you'd tried, maybe you just would have been there when it happened."

  "Maybe." Silence. "Cerys is dead."

  Maybe she was growing up, because Nessa bit back the words that wanted to come flying out. Good fucking riddance. Cerys had fucked with Lex and Dallas for years, but she'd been a force in Lex's life, for good or ill. "When did you find out?"

  "I didn't," Lex admitted. "But she must be. It's the only thing that makes sense."

  They'd just listened to Markovic discuss ninety-three days of torment at the hands of the men in Eden. Was it better to agree with Lex, or to point out that Cerys could be in one of those cells, rotting away? There were no soothing answers. Nothing easy to say. "It's okay to feel shitty about that, you know. Even if you hated her."

  "I did worse than hate her. I understood her." She kissed the top of Nessa's head and patted her back. "I'm fine, honey. Just...ready for this war to be over so we can get back to doing what O'Kanes do best."

  "Fuck and drink and fuck some more?" Nessa asked, trying to make her tone light. "Or sleeping until noon."

  "Something like that." Lex reached for the tablet. "Did Dallas give you Ryder's message?"

  "He grumbled at me that Ryder would be back as soon as he could and not to worry because he was more-or-less intact." Nessa wrinkled her nose. "I don't know what you said to him, but that's better than I expected. He hasn't threatened to kill him in front of me, not even once."

  "Dallas likes him. I don't think he expected to, but there it is."

  Warmth flooded her cheeks. "I like him too, Lex. I mean like him, like him. More than the hot making out."

  Lex stared down at her, the last of her melancholy slipping into humor and something fiercer, something almost like pride. "You've been an O'Kane even longer than I have, Nessa. You should have known you'd never be happy with anyone who couldn't stand toe-to-toe with your brothers."

  She smiled, but after only a few seconds her smile wobbled. "I don't think he's planning on staying around if we win, though."

  Lex seemed to consider that for a moment. "Does knowing that change anything?"

  "I—" For once, no words came. Nessa missed Ryder already. Missing him was a symptom, and more of them kept popping up. Daydreaming. Wanting. Fantasizing. He was in her head and under her skin, seeping into parts of her she'd barely realized were there.

  She could end it before he got to her heart. It might protect her a little. Or it might make her miserable for the final days of her life. If they lost, if she died—she'd regret every second she hadn't spent living as hard as she could.

  And if they won, and he broke her heart... Well, she'd be alive. Work had filled the void in her life before. She'd find more of it, enough to fill whatever space he left behind. "No. It doesn't."

  "Mmm." Lex tilted her head and smiled softly. "My advice? Just let it be. Sometimes life surprises you."

  "Let's hope." She gave Lex a plaintive look. "Do you think he'll be back soon?"

  "Oh, I think the odds are pretty goddamn good."

  Then she'd wait for him. If the end was coming for her, she was going to face it like an O'Kane—fighting to squeeze the joy out of every damn second she had left.

  And if it wasn't, she'd face that like an O'Kane, too. And fight for what she wanted.

  Penelope

  Everyone knew Penny was lying when she poked her head into the NetSec hub and told them she was running out for some decent coffee.

  Eden had been under heavy rationing for weeks, and the only thing close to approaching real coffee was seven floors down, in the executive suite, where tense, wary assistants prepared beverages and food for what was left of the Council. Outside their glass tower, people were reusing grinds for weeks or mixing them with the synthetic coffee from Sector Eight that tasted like burnt dirt.

  No one thought Penny was really going out for coffee, but no one murmured a word of protest, either. Twelve of the nineteen men and women who worked under her supervision were bent over their tablets and computer screens, as drawn and haggard as she felt, scrambling anxiously for some tiny victory that would deflect Council displeasure for one more day.

  She'd started with twenty-five employees. Council displeasure was taking its toll.

  She tried not to think about it as she stepped into the elevator. Trying not to think was how she bridged the sparse minutes between work and sleep—the latter of which she hadn't been getting nearly often enough. Maybe that was why the elevator's swift descent made her dizzy.

  Penny steadied herself in the tense seconds before the doors opened. Then she strode into the lobby, ignoring the way people skittered o
ut of her path when they recognized the insignia on her jacket. No one wanted to attract the attention of a NetSec officer and risk a digital investigation that might uncover evidence of treasonous activity. Penny could have told them not to worry. If the Council wanted treasonous activity uncovered, nothing would stop them, including innocence. Manufacturing evidence had been back in vogue since the start of the insurrection.

  Another thing Penny was trying not to think about.

  She pushed through the glass doors and into the harsh sunlight. The steps down to the street were usually cluttered with people going about their business, but today only a few people scurried nervously past under the assessing gazes of a Special Tasks squad. Penny doubted most of them realized that was what the four men were—even now, Special Tasks was more legend than reality to the citizens of Eden—but the dangerous menace apparent in their heavy armor and deadly rifles was unmistakable.

  Things got grimmer on the main street. Rationing lines snaked around buildings, cluttering sidewalks with tired, blank-eyed people waiting for their chance at enough food to get their family through the next few days. MPs were posted at checkpoints between neighborhoods, scanning bar codes and turning away people who didn't have a travel pass. Shorter lines trailed out of the recruitment stations, men with trembling hands and fear in their eyes.

  They would make for terrible soldiers, but the Council didn't care. They would serve their intended purpose—as warm bodies to throw at the sectors, cannon fodder to tire out the enemy before the real soldiers swept in. After the defeat in Five, they needed all the warm bodies they could get.

  Penny ducked into what had once been the most popular coffee shop in the heart of City Center. All the cute little tables were abandoned now. The glass jars that usually held bright sprays of flowers were empty, and the digital displays in the center of the room where you ordered your drinks had gone dark. Even the owner was missing. His daughter had taken his place behind the counter, looking drawn and terrified as her gaze fixed on Penny's jacket.

  That was why Penny wore it. She deserved the constant reminder that she was a monster.

  She didn't bother trying to put the girl at ease. It would be futile. Instead, she ordered the most expensive coffee on the menu and swiped her wrist over the scanner to pay. The smell from the cup turned her stomach, but she left a generous tip to compensate for the woman's fear and her own guilt before leaving the shop.

  Crumpled-up trash and torn recruitment posters littered the streets—actual garbage on Eden's shining roads, the clearest sign of their current desperate state. Eden had always been rotten on the inside, but maintaining the pristine exterior had always been everyone's top priority.

  Penny wasn't sure what their priority was anymore. Survival, maybe. It certainly was hers.

  A man in a black sweatshirt with a hat pulled down over his ears appeared from between two buildings, startling Penny. She tried to step out of his path, but he bumped into her hard enough to knock the coffee from her hand. She bit back a curse as the hot liquid scalded her fingers, but the man was already disappearing down another side street.

  Chasing him down wasn't worth it. And it wasn't like she wanted to drink the damn coffee. She recovered the cup and tossed it into the nearest recycling bin, the habit too ingrained to allow her to leave it in the street. Cradling her stinging hand, she hurried back to the building that headquartered the Council.

  It wasn't until she was leaning against the side of the elevator as it whisked her skyward that she felt the odd crinkle in her jacket pocket. She slid her hand in and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  Nothing on the outside, not even her name. But when she opened it, her heart began to race. The ground felt unsteady beneath her feet. Her stomach swooped up into her throat as hope and denial chased each other in a dizzy loop that only broke when the elevator door dinged.

  Panicked, she shoved the paper back into her pocket. Then she took a deep, steadying breath and flattened her features.

  She stopped by the NetSec hub first and stuck her head in. "Any updates on the Riley situation?"

  Her best surveillance tech, a sixty-year-old woman with hair so blonde the silver barely showed, looked up from her station. "No. I caught Liam Riley on a camera over by the docks, but it's only about ten seconds of footage, and I can't pick him up on any of the nearby feeds. It's like he vanished."

  Or he knew exactly what the angle of surveillance was for every camera Eden had in play. Penny could change the angles, add new ones, but the hackers worming their way through the system would map them and report back to Liam Riley every time. "Keep trying, Leigh. Pull Simon and John in to spec out new equipment by the docks, if you catch him there again."

  The woman nodded, and Penny retreated across the hallway to her office. As the head of Network Security, she had a cozy corner space with vast windows that made her feel exposed. She usually kept the curtains closed, but today she walked over and pressed the button to open them.

  This high up, Eden stretched out below her like a model of a city. She was higher than any of the other buildings, higher than the walls. To the southeast, she could see Sector Four, the buildings squat and dark, made of concrete and brick instead of the shining steel and glass favored in the city.

  Her hands trembling, she pulled the piece of paper out of her pocket again and carefully unfolded it. It was just one line and a string of numbers—an unfinished quote, an IP address and a time. But the words—

  Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's…

  She heard the final word in the sentence as if Nikolas Markovic was standing behind her, his warm voice full of the good humor and kindness that had first pierced her wary armor. Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.

  It was either a message from a ghost or a trap.

  She checked the time on the paper against the clock in her workstation. Seventeen minutes. Not nearly long enough to figure out a safe way to approach this. Nikolas had vanished in the middle of the night months ago, plagued by accusations of treason. No one had ever told her that he'd been executed, but no orders had come down from the man running the Council now to find him, either. If Markovic had been alive and on the run, Smith Peterson would have had every resource in NetSec searching for him around the clock.

  Penny had assumed Peterson's lack of concern meant he knew exactly where Markovic was, and she'd done her grieving in private. Nikolas would have understood, she told herself. He knew what she was when he plucked her out of detention. Not a noble hero like him, not a fighter.

  He'd done his best to make her better, but you couldn't change the core of a person. And Penelope Mathieu was a survivor.

  This note was almost certainly a trap. Peterson had been enraged at her inability to protect Eden against every digital attack from the sectors. Even though she'd gotten the power grid back up within two days, it didn't matter. As far as the Council was concerned, there was no excuse for some uneducated sector trash hacker to be able to compete with Eden's elite, much less beat them, however momentarily, unless she wasn't trying hard enough.

  And she of all people knew surveillance was everywhere. Someone could have recorded Markovic saying this to her. Someone could have tortured him until he spilled everything. They wanted to see if she'd reach out to a traitor. They wanted proof of her guilt.

  Except...Peterson didn't need proof. If he wanted her dead, he'd walk into her office and pull the trigger himself. He'd probably enjoy it, too—the rumor was that Peterson had taken more than one torture and extrajudicial execution into his own hands lately.

  And if it was a trap, she could cover. Claim she'd been setting a trap of her own to lure Markovic into the open. She could spin it. That was what survivors did.

  And if it wasn't…

  Her heart still beating erratically, she took her chair and engaged her anti-surveillance tech to scramble the signals of anyone trying to listen in. Then she watched the minutes count down. At the appointed time,
she opened a window and entered the IP address. She got a password prompt back immediately, and stared at it for a few seconds before looking down at the scrap of paper again.

  Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's…

  Slowly, she typed in COURAGE.

  A video connection opened up, and she choked back an unexpected sob when Nikolas's face filled the screen.

  He was alive. He looked terrible—his face was drawn, his cheekbones so sharp it hurt to look at them. His skin had a sickly pallor, and there were deep creases around his eyes and between his brows that hadn't been there before.

  But he was alive.

  He looked like he'd aged ten years in the weeks since she'd seen him. She felt like she'd aged a hundred. And she didn't know what to say to a ghost.

  "Hi, Pen," he rasped finally. "I'm glad you could make it."

  "Nikolas—" Her voice cracked. Even though her antibugging device was running, she couldn't bring herself to speak above a whisper. "Where are—no, don't tell me. You're okay?"

  "For some definitions of the word." He tugged on the tie knotted around his throat to loosen it. "What about you?"

  There was no answer she could give that wouldn't deepen the stress lines around his eyes. Nikolas cared. That was his most powerful asset and his greatest vulnerability, how very much he cared. "I'm okay. I'd say I wish you were here, but...you know. I like you too much for that, even if you're an annoying do-gooder."

  He closed his eyes and jerked—not quite a wince, but close enough to make her fingers twitch on her lap, as if she could reach through the screen to soothe him. "I need you to broadcast something for me."