by Zoe Cannon
“Do you have any idea—” Becca’s harsh words rang through the clearing. She lowered her voice. Flattened it. “She knows my name. She knows my position. You almost handed Internal the entire resistance.”
“I know, okay? I know.”
“You blackmailed me and someone died. You talked me into letting Ryann live and someone died. You tried to rescue her, and now another of my people is dead. Because of you.” She met Kara’s eyes. “Do you know why I’m here talking to you right now?”
“To tell me how badly I screwed up.” Kara stared at the ground. “You don’t need to bother. I already know.”
Becca shook her head. She shot another glance at Micah—he hadn’t moved—and lowered her voice again. “I’m here to find out whether I can risk letting you walk out of here.”
That got a reaction. A widening of Kara’s eyes, a sharp intake of breath. But Kara didn’t protest.
Don’t make me do this. Show me I can trust you. “Is there anything you want to say?”
“I only wanted…” Kara mumbled the rest.
“Wanted what?” But Becca could already guess how the sentence ended. I wanted to save her. I wanted to prove I was a better person than you.
The words came in a rush. “I wanted to do what you do!”
“What I do,” Becca echoed. She didn’t know what else to say. How could she respond, when Kara’s explanation made no sense?
“You saved me from the reeducation center. I was going to die in that place, and I knew it, and then you saved me. Do you have any idea how that feels? To know you’re going to die—to be more sure of it than you’ve ever been sure of anything in your life—and then to have someone come along and…” Her voice caught. “And then last year, when I heard about the escape, I knew it had to be you. It had to be, because who else could pull off something like that? I’ve spent the past three years trying to be half as brave as you, to be half the threat to Internal that you are, and knowing I never could.”
How could Kara want to be like Becca, when Becca couldn’t even keep the resistance alive? “I’m not—” Becca started.
Kara spoke over her. “I used to think about what I would say if I ever saw you again.” Her voice was small now; her body seemed to shrink in on itself. “I imagined showing you everything I had done. I pictured you inviting me into the resistance, and telling me…” She gave a violent shrug. “You know. Stupid stuff. And then, when I finally came back, it was because I needed your help. Because I couldn’t manage on my own. I came up with a plan, and I thought that would show you what I…” She lifted her bound hands to wipe her eyes. “But all I’ve done is get your people killed.”
All this time.
All of Kara’s arrogance. All the disregard.
Becca had never suspected that this lay underneath. She had never imagined that Kara had spent the past three years thinking about her, idolizing her, trying to become her.
She should have. Looking back now, she could see the signs, all the little things Kara had said. If nothing else, her evaluation skills should have given her a hint. But at the time, she had only been focused on countering the threats Kara had presented—her blackmail, her influence over the others, her unwelcome advice that was too logical to ignore.
“I can’t undo what I did.” Kara drew a shuddery breath, heavy with held-back tears. “Even if I could, I don’t know if I would. I didn’t want anyone to die, but I can’t wish we never saved Micah.” The tears broke through, distorting her voice. “But I can at least give him back to you. I can do this… one… thing.”
A flare of anger rose up before Becca could stifle it. Do you really think that makes a difference? People are dead! But she didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. Kara already knew.
“So have you decided what to do with me?” Kara was clearly trying to sound like she didn’t care. It wasn’t working.
“You have our names,” said Becca. “You know where and when we meet. You know what we do. How we think. You could destroy us right now if you wanted to. We wouldn’t stand a chance.”
A sharp shudder was Kara’s only response.
“But you don’t want to.”
Kara stilled. A faint flash of hope crossed her face.
“You want a better world as much as I do. You want to stand against Internal. You want to save lives. That’s why you did all this in the first place.” Something prickled at the edges of Becca’s mind. Something she didn’t want to see.
“And I got people killed instead,” said Kara. “I almost destroyed the resistance.”
The prickle turned into a buzz, too loud for her to ignore. Becca spoke heavily. “So did I.”
Kara’s brow creased in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“The liberation. It should never have happened.”
Confusion faded into disbelief. “You freed almost a thousand prisoners.”
“And if I hadn’t, none of this would be happening. Internal wouldn’t see us as a serious threat. I put the resistance at risk when I decided to move ahead with the liberation, and if I don’t find a way to fix the problem, the others’ deaths will be on me.” She spoke the words without emotion.
Kara’s eyes lit with comprehension. “That’s why you’re doing this. That’s why you’re willing to…” Her gaze drifted to the still-unconscious Ryann.
Becca didn’t respond.
“And it’s why…” Kara hesitated. “It’s why you might not let me walk away.”
The buzz in Becca’s head reached a crescendo—and she knew what she had to do. What she had to tell Kara.
It wouldn’t be as hard as killing her. But it would be close.
She stood quietly for a moment, organizing her thoughts into words. “You made a choice,” she said finally. “Just like I did.” She let a beat pass before speaking again. “It’s what people like us do.”
People like us. Becca watched as Kara absorbed the implications of the words. As she heard Becca’s unspoken message.
You don’t have to try to be like me. You already are.
“Sometimes there aren’t any good options—sometimes there’s only bad and worse,” Becca continued. “Sometimes we make the wrong choice, and people die because of us, and all we can do is minimize the damage. Sometimes we fail no matter what we choose. And sometimes…” She looked deliberately in Ryann’s direction, making sure Kara followed her gaze. “Sometimes making choices means weighing one life against another. Or one life against a hundred. Sometimes it means weighing principles against lives.” She turned back to Kara. “Do you understand?”
Kara stiffened. She looked at Becca. At Ryann. At Becca again.
She nodded—a tiny jerk of her chin. “I understand.”
“You screwed up,” said Becca. “You made the wrong choice. You got my people killed—more than once—and almost destroyed the resistance.” She took a breath. “But it’s no worse than what I’ve done.” No worse—and maybe better. Two people had died because of Kara. Three, counting Meri. How many people had died—how many would still die—because of the mistake Becca had made a year ago?
Kara held herself utterly still as she listened. As she waited for Becca’s decision.
Becca thought about Meri. About the look in her eyes when she had told Becca what she planned to do. She thought about Terrence, and the still form of the guard across the clearing.
And she thought about the liberation. About the people she had lost in the aftermath—the people she was still losing.
Her mind returned to Meri, to the events that had led to her death—but this time she didn’t hear Kara urging her to give Ryann’s plan a chance. It was her own voice she heard, telling Meri to give Ryann access. Convincing her that it was the only way to save the resistance.
Kara had wanted her to work with Ryann. But the choice had belonged to Becca.
She took a deep breath.
Almost as hard as killing her.
But not quite.
She bent do
wn to untie Kara’s wrists.
“You belong with the resistance, Kara,” she said. “You’re one of us.”
Chapter Eleven
The first thing Becca noticed when she stumbled into her apartment was the faint glimmer of sunrise already visible from her window.
The second was the person sitting on her couch.
Someone is here. The door was locked, and someone is here. The gears of her exhausted mind struggled to engage as a jolt of panic cut off her breath. One hand reached for the doorknob, the other for the gun in her coat pocket.
“Becca, wait! It’s me. It’s me!”
The familiar voice stopped her. Slowly, too slowly, the figure came into focus. Curly blonde hair. A form-fitting outfit that exploded with color. An expression of naked relief.
“Becca.” Heather exhaled the word as if she had been holding her breath for hours. “You’re okay.”
Heather’s face blurred. Becca tried to rub the fatigue from her eyes. “How did you get in?”
“You gave me a key. Back when I was helping you decorate. Remember?”
Right. Becca could almost remember it now—handing over the key so Heather could get inside to… paint a room, maybe. Or move a piece of furniture. Whatever the reason had been, it wasn’t important now. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize. I couldn’t sleep—I kept staring up at the ceiling thinking about the way I left last time. The things I said. So finally I decided to just come over. I figured if you were mad about being woken up, at least you’d still know I was sorry.” Heather gave her a weak smile.
Becca tried to focus. “It’s been weeks. Why now?” She hadn’t heard from Heather since that night, hadn’t seen her except for a couple of dinners at Lucky’s, where they had taken turns eliciting rants from Vivian and funny work stories from Ramon to cover for the fact that they were barely speaking to one another.
“I heard some things at work today.” Heather looked down at her lap. “Something’s gone wrong with Vivian’s program. You probably already know. Anyway, they’re trying to figure out what to do about it. If they… if something happens…” She paused long enough for Becca to see the details she had missed before—her blotchy face, the tear-bright shine in her eyes. “I didn’t want to leave things like that between us.”
Becca went cold. Ryann. It had to be. She hadn’t expected Investigation to discover Ryann’s disappearance this quickly—but with their resources, why wouldn’t they have found out? And if they acted against the resistance because of it—if they sent the remaining spies into action…
She didn’t have weeks anymore. At most, she had days.
“What’s their plan?” She fought to keep the urgency from her voice. There was no reason to scare Heather with this. Better for her to believe it was nothing.
“I don’t know. I tried to find out, but no one outside Vivian’s team is supposed to know the program exists.” Heather bit her lip. “What about you? Do you know what’s going on?”
“I know enough.”
“How close are they to finding you? How much danger are you in?”
“I’ll be fine.” She hoped she sounded convincing.
“Is there anything…” Heather’s voice wobbled. She took a second to breathe. “If they decide to do something, is there anything you can do to stop them? Or run, or… anything?”
Becca had made her decision during the drive home. But sharing it with Heather wouldn’t make Heather feel any better. “Maybe,” she said, and left it at that.
But Heather didn’t drop it. “Is that why you were gone tonight?” she pressed. “Where were you?”
I was standing over a dead body, threatening someone’s life and deciding whether to torture somebody else. “Resistance business.”
On any other day, that would have been enough to send Heather scrambling to change the subject. Today she just leaned closer, a hurt look on her face. “Look,” she said. “I know you said you don’t want my help. But could you at least give me a little respect? You’re my best friend, and you could die, and I…” She made a frustrated gesture. “I just want to know what’s going on, okay? That’s all.”
A flash of inspiration hit Becca. A way to throw Heather off the trail, a way to keep from telling her what she didn’t want to hear. “I was with Micah.” A strategic pause. “He kissed me.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “Wait. Micah is really back?”
She had taken the bait. Becca gave an inward sigh of relief as she nodded. “He’s back.”
“And you kissed him.”
“He kissed me,” Becca corrected. A second later, she wondered why she had bothered. What did it matter?
“Well, these things are usually mutual, aren’t they? Unless you stopped him, and why would you? I know how you feel about him.” Heather patted the couch next to her.
Becca sat, trying to look natural. She crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Heat crept up her face. She knew how to handle life-and-death situations, but conversations like this always made her feel like she was still back in high school, still the clueless freshman listening without understanding as Heather tried to fill her head with romantic advice. She had missed something along the way, had been busy working for the resistance and then leading a resistance of her own while other people learned how to talk about this kind of thing.
But at least they weren’t talking about anything else that had happened tonight. At least they weren’t talking about the decision she had made on her way home, and what it would mean.
Heather stared. “You did stop him, didn’t you?” She shook her head in disapproval, or maybe just disbelief. “Why? You’ve been hung up on him for three years.”
“I’ve been leading the resistance for three years.” Becca crossed and uncrossed her legs again. “We’ve talked about this.” For a while they had gone through the same argument every time Heather tried to set her up on another date, until finally Becca had given up and let Heather believe what she wanted to believe.
Heather waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s never been the whole story, and we both know it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have kissed him.”
“He kissed me,” she said sharply. She stopped. Took a breath. There was no point in getting worked up about this. Not when she had more important things to worry about. As long as the distraction worked, it didn’t matter what Heather thought.
“So you’re telling me you didn’t kiss him back at all?” Heather raised an eyebrow.
Yes. No. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. Becca didn’t answer.
Heather tilted her head. “So what exactly happened?”
Becca shrugged. The motion felt stiff and unnatural. “We talked. He kissed me. I told him to leave. He did.” She left out the part where Jared had told them about Kara, and the awkward few minutes they had spent driving in silence to the clearing.
“That,” Heather pronounced, “is the most unsatisfying story I’ve ever heard.”
“You asked what happened. That’s what happened.”
Heather heaved a sigh. She stretched out sideways on the couch, making a “gimme” gesture as she turned to Becca. “Come on. Give. What was it like?”
“Does it matter? It lasted maybe two seconds. It’s not going to happen again.” Maybe she had made a mistake trying to distract Heather. Maybe she should have simply ordered her to leave.
Of course, she had tried that with Micah, and look where that had led.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” said Heather. “So now you’re going to talk about it.”
The memory of the kiss filled her body, sharp and unexpected. It felt dangerous. It felt like I was losing everything. “It felt…” It felt right.
Heather motioned for Becca to go on.
“It felt like nothing,” said Becca. “Whatever we had three years ago, it’s gone now.”
Heather flopped back against the arm of the couch. “This isn’t working.”
“I answered y
our question.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Heather righted herself and leaned in to face Becca. Her expression turned serious. “You thought I wouldn’t see what you were doing, didn’t you? Trying to distract me. Getting me to talk about something besides the resistance. I let you do it because I thought you could use a few minutes to relax and have a normal conversation. But you’re sitting there getting more and more defensive—”
“I’m not getting—”
“You are. So time’s up.” She crossed her arms, trying for a stern expression. She looked more like she was about to cry. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Becca rubbed her temples. “For the past three years you’ve rushed out the door with some sudden emergency whenever I’ve mentioned the resistance. Why do you want to hear about it now?”
“Because Internal has almost won!” said Heather, nearly shouting. “You’re not the one working in the same building as Vivian. You don’t hear the way she sounds when she talks about this program. And now, with her team getting ready to do whatever they’re going to do…” She drew her arms in, like the room had suddenly gotten colder. “They could come for you tomorrow, and I would never know what had happened.”
“It’s always been that way. You just haven’t wanted to see it.”
Heather shook her head. “This is different. You can’t tell me it’s not.”
A tenth of her people working for Internal. A tenth of her people about to do… something… if Becca didn’t find them before someone gave the order. Becca didn’t say anything.
“This is different,” Heather repeated. “And it’s like you want me to wait in my apartment until I hear about your arrest on the news. You want me to close my eyes and do nothing while…” She shuddered. “You were there for me when my parents died. You were there for me when I couldn’t get over what happened to them. You don’t want my help—I get that—but at least let me be there for you like you were for me. Just let me—” Her hands clenched around her thighs. “Please just tell me what’s going on. After everything we’ve been through together, don’t you think I deserve that much?”