by Debra Driza
“My brother? What does Tim have to do with this?”
Holland’s grin sharpened as he smelled blood. “Didn’t I mention it? He’s the one who helped me track you down.”
“What? No . . .” Lucas sagged against his captor, his pale face going gray. “I can’t believe . . .” His anguish was a horrible thing to witness. “Mila, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Not to me, not for things that this monster has done. There is no shame in giving someone the benefit of the doubt. You thought Tim had changed.”
Lucas’s lashes were dark with tears when he looked at me. And then his eyes widened, just a little. He mouthed something at me.
“I did check in sooner.”
And apparently Tim hadn’t said a word to Holland.
Could he have wanted us to uncover Holland’s scheme?
Could he have left the pin at the fire, so someday someone could follow the trail?
Could he have wanted forgiveness? Redemption? More than anyone, I knew what that was like. I also knew I might never get the answers about Tim. But suddenly I felt differently about leaving the Montford kids in his care.
Holland’s gaze traveled between the two of us. He didn’t know what had passed between us, but he didn’t like it.
“New plan. We’re leaving Grassi and getting on now. Brady, start it up and get Lucas on board.”
The blades began to move with a groan, slowly at first but then building up speed until my hair whipped at my face and everyone had to shout to be heard.
Brady screamed over the ruckus. “Wait, just got a text from Grassi—he’s almost here. Needed to stop for gas,” he yelled, but his words got plucked up by the wind and tossed away.
Meanwhile, he was having a hard time getting Lucas forward. Lucas had pretended to faint, and the effort of trying to drag him while not letting go of his gun was proving to be a challenge.
Unnoticed by anyone but me, a lone car raced down the road. One hundred yards away but gaining on us rapidly. I scanned the contents; my sensors were barely back online. Three people. Two guns. Not enough information to make a decision. But just enough to hope. And plan.
I edged closer to Brady and Lucas, putting myself in their path. From the back window of the van, I caught a quick motion. Daniel’s foot. Just before it smashed into the window.
The car was pulling up, but Holland still hadn’t heard it. I prepared myself. I would have one chance to make this work.
And then the car pulled into view. I saw the driver at the same time Holland did. It was Hunter. And he wasn’t stopping. He gunned the car at Holland.
Now.
Brady’s attention, diverted by the car, was the next break I needed. I lunged behind him, one arm around his throat, the other squeezing his wrist until the gun slipped from his grasp. I smashed the gun over his skull, and he crumpled. Quickly, I squatted and freed Lucas from his bonds. I pressed one quick kiss to his lips, trying to commit the feeling to memory.
“Quick, go help Daniel,” I said, handing him the gun.
Holland had dodged the car but fallen in the process, giving Samuel time to jump out and pin him with a Taser. A minute later, and I had the detonator in my hand.
Lucas was safe. What I’d been longing for since Nicole had been killed—bringing Holland down—had finally happened.
Throat knotting, I took a step toward the helicopter.
“You don’t have to!” Lucas yelled over the deafening sound of the helicopter’s blades. “We’ve got Holland. We can get him to stop the bomb in trade for his life.”
The lump in my throat grew. “They’ll just keep coming. As long as I exist. Even if Holland is gone. There’ll be someone else, like Quinn or Grassi, who’ll find out about me and try to use me for whatever twisted plan they have. I can’t take the risk. And I can’t run anymore.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. He knew I was right, and it wasn’t in him to try to persuade me otherwise.
“We could hide. We did just fine at the cabin, didn’t we?”
But I could tell by the sad smile that he knew that what I was going to say.
“You shouldn’t have to live like that.”
He reached forward, traced my mouth with his thumb. “But we’d be together.”
Tempting. So tempting. “For how long? We’d always be looking over our shoulders, wondering when I might be discovered. Please trust me, this is the right thing to do.”
“Like I said, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”
His hand cupped my cheek; mine cupped his. Equals. I could have stood like that for hours. Breaking the contact was like ripping up a piece of me. Step one in leaving him—everything—behind. But it had to be done. I backed away, urging myself to turn around, but faltering.
And then my mom’s last words floated through my head, lending me warmth. “If no harm would come to others, I promise, I would choose to live,” I said softly.
But people would be harmed if I stayed. And I had inflicted so much suffering already.
This was my choice. What he did with that knowledge was his.
Then I turned and ran for the helicopter, jumping into the driver’s seat.
Daniel’s anguished cry caught my ears, but I knew he would understand, too. Eventually. As much as he cared about me, he would want to protect other people’s daughters more.
The dashboard was a maze of buttons and knobs, but my android sensors took over, directing me.
Before I could lift off though, Samuel shouted, “Wait!”
I looked to see Daniel sprinting over to Holland, and punching him in the face. Once. Twice. Three times. None of it would bring back his daughter or save me, but it was certainly a little bit of justice served.
When Holland was barely conscious to fight back, Daniel and Samuel began dragging him. Toward me. I started to shake my head, knowing what they had in mind.
Daniel cut me short. “Mila, this is the only way we’ll know for sure those kids will be safe. And future kids. Other people’s Sarahs.”
I looked at Holland, my mind at war with itself. Taking him with me was murder. But leaving him behind could very well be too. I found myself seeking Lucas, one last time. My beautiful pacifist. There was no way he’d be okay with this.
What I saw in his eyes surprised me. “Like you said, they’ll keep coming. There are no guarantees what will happen to him in a trial.”
“Lucas,” I said, shaking my head.
His jaw flexed before he sighed. “I know. But if he chose?”
“Why on earth would—”
But Lucas was already walking away, heading straight for his half-conscious uncle.
So I waited. I waited while Lucas knelt down and whispered in his uncle’s ear. I saw Holland jerk, then flinch. A minute later, Lucas rose. “Put him in the copter,” he said. Samuel and Daniel complied, hoisting him into the passenger seat and buckling him in.
I approached the pilot’s side, where Lucas waited. “What did you say to him?” I asked. A little afraid.
“I reminded him how traitors are treated in this country. How his name would be ruined. He’d be a laughingstock, the brunt of jokes for years to come. I told him his life was pretty much over anyway, and if he went, we could try to keep his involvement quiet.”
“Lucas,” I started, but he shook his head, eyes fierce.
“I gave him a choice, and he took it. Don’t you feel bad for him. Not even for a second. A choice was more than he deserved. If there was any justice, he’d live out a very long life in a very small cell. Humiliated and broken.”
I glanced over at Holland, who watched us from the passenger seat. “If you feel that way, why even give him a choice?”
“Because,” he said, reaching out one last time to stroke my cheek. “Because in his entire despicable life, he did one thing right. He made you.”
With that, he pulled my face to his chest, and I felt his lips brush my hair. “Remember me, Mila,” he whisper
ed. Before he stepped back and let go.
I took one last look at his face before turning and climbing into the pilot’s seat. Holland leveled curses at me as the helicopter lifted off, his bitter voice drowned out by the countdown inside my head.
59 minutes, 16 seconds.
59 minutes, 15 seconds.
59 minutes, 14 seconds.
Most people have no idea how much time they have left before their lives are over. I knew I had less than an hour, and I wasn’t afraid.
Not because I couldn’t feel fear, but because after all was said and done, it was clear that my emotions—programmed or not—were what made me more than Holland had ever bargained for.
I wasn’t afraid because I was at the controls, steering the course, choosing to make the sacrifice that Nicole and Sarah had unwittingly made before me.
And because I would remember Lucas—remember us—during every last second of the helicopter’s rapid descent over the Potomac, right before the countdown expired.
He made sure of that. Lucas always found a way.
I’m with you, Mila.
Do you hear me?
You’re not alone.
And I swear, this isn’t goodb----------
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Well, there you have it! The final chapter in the MILA trilogy. As you might expect, I have many people to thank for making the three books in the MILA-verse possible.
First of all—the series would not exist without the wonderful team at HarperCollins. A very special thanks to my editors, Claudia Gabel and Melissa Miller, who stuck by me for the long haul. Also, thank you to Katherine Tegen, Kate Jackson, and Suzanne Murphy. Thanks to subrights wiz Jean McGinley for helping to bring Mila to readers in so many different countries. Thank you to Erin Fitzsimmons, Amy Ryan, and Barbara Fitzsimmons for the stunning covers and beautiful design, and thanks to marketing wonders Lauren Flower, Alana Whitman, and Carmen Alvarez. No book would be polished without copyediting and production, so thanks to Bethany Reis and Kara Levy for fixing all the little things that authors forget. Finally, thank you to my publicist, Rosanne Romanello, and anyone else who I might not have named but who helped bring this series to fruition in some small way, shape, or form.
A big hug and thank-you to my lovely agent, Taylor Martindale, for always being there, and to the Full Circle and Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agencies.
To my writer friends—MUAH. Again, I cannot commend the YA community enough for all the understanding, camaraderie, and support. Without you, I would not be the person I am today. Thank you for opening my eyes to so many different experiences and perspectives. A special MUAH to the amazing ladies of YA Highway and my LBs. I love my little writer bat caves. Thanks also to the Luckies and Binders, for sharing stories and offering support. To Sarah, Rachael, and Jenn, for reading chapters and assuring me I hadn’t forgotten how to write.
Thank you to my nonwriter friends, for dragging me out of the writer cave once in a while.
A shout-out to my family, both immediate and extended, for their bottomless support, and especially my husband, Scott, who makes this all possible, and Connor and Finley, just because. Mom, thank you again for making me a reader. I miss you.
To all the bloggers out there—you rock. Thanks for donating your time and spreading the word. A special thanks to local blogger extraordinaire Stacee, whose enthusiasm and support for authors never ceases to amaze.
And last but not least, huge, tearful thanks to all of you readers who have faithfully followed Mila on her many adventures. During these past few years, I’ve discovered that life really is all about the journey. I’m so thrilled that I got to share part of my journey with you. Throughout the course of these books, Mila and I both learned the hard way that challenges are often opportunities for growth in disguise, and that ultimately your opinion of yourself is the one that matters most. If I could leave you with a few thoughts, it would be these: don’t let anyone take away your right to define yourself. And please, keep challenging yourselves, keep growing, and know that yes, you are indeed worth it.
Always.
BACK ADS
DISCOVER
your next favorite read
MEET
new authors to love
WIN
free books
SHARE
infographics, playlists, quizzes, and more
WATCH
the latest videos
TUNE IN
to Tea Time with Team Epic Reads
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Kat Post
DEBRA DRIZA is the author of MILA 2.0 and MILA 2.0: Renegade. She is a member of the teen lit blogging group the Bookanistas and a former practicing physical therapist who discovered that tormenting her characters was infinitely more enjoyable. These days you can find her at home in California, wrangling one husband, two kids, and an assortment of Rhodesian ridgebacks. You can visit her online at www.debradriza.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
BOOKS BY DEBRA DRIZA
MILA 2.0: Origins: The Fire
MILA 2.0
MILA 2.0: Renegade
MILA 2.0: Redemption
CREDITS
Cover art © 2016 by BENJAMIN DELACOUR
Cover design by ERIN FITZSIMMONS
COPYRIGHT
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
MILA 2.0: REDEMPTION. Copyright © 2016 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
* * *
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014949407
ISBN 978-0-06-209042-3
EPub Edition © April 2016 ISBN 9780062090447
* * *
16 17 18 19 20 PC/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON M4W 1A8, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com