Chapter 1 #2
“How did you find it?” Xavier pushes.
Grayson is about to answer, but when his copilot frowns at him, he turns to the two men and says, “Take him to the cells.”
Panic bubbles inside me as they reach for Xavier. “Wait,” I protest. “Stop. I told you, he helped me escape.”
“And I told you I don’t care,” Grayson replies. He rolls his eyes when Xavier takes an aggressive stance as if preparing to resist. “Don’t fight it, Ford. You’ll get your chance to defend yourself. For now, don’t make shit harder for yourself.”
My gaze finds Xavier’s, and an unspoken exchange passes between us. He might not be telepathic like I am, but my eyes are perfectly capable of transmitting my message, loud and clear.
We’ll regroup later and come up with a plan.
His head dips in a quick nod. Xavier might be annoying, but he’s not stupid. There’s a reason he made second lieutenant in the Command and was selected for Elite, Silver Block’s most coveted unit.
With a dour look, he allows them to pull him toward a nearby door.
It doesn’t have a handle, just a smooth metal surface and a scanner on the wall that requires a thumbprint.
The door slides open, and the men shove Xavier through it.
When I hear the soft hiss of the door sealing shut, I realize it’s an air lock.
Once they’re gone, the copilot glances at me, not bothering to hide her wariness. “You have this handled?” she asks Grayson.
At his nod, she disappears through the air lock without another word.
Finally alone, the two of us eye each other.
I don’t know what to make of this new Kaine. This Grayson Blake. I study his getup—a gray cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and black trousers encasing his long legs. The last time I saw him, he was sporting the same navy-blue Command uniform I’m currently wearing.
“Ford doesn’t deserve to be in a cell,” I say darkly. “He helped me escape Sanctum Point. I wouldn’t have made it through the Blacklands without him.”
“As I already told you, the Authority will decide what to do with him.” Noting my frustration, Grayson softens his tone. “We’re not giving a Silver Block lieutenant free rein of our base. He’ll be detained until further notice.”
“You mean until you decide whether you’re going to kill him.”
“Pretty much.”
I shake my head at him. “You weren’t this callous on the Command base.”
“Yes,” he says simply. “I was.” Then his eyes sparkle. “But I was also charming. Lovable. Hilarious…”
I recite my own list. “Conceited, obnoxious…”
He winks. “I’m a man of many talents, Darlington. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
“I haven’t figured out anything other than I cried at your funeral. I grieved for you.”
The playful glint is snuffed from his expression. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. I truly am. But I had a mission to execute. You of all people should understand that. You were running a mission, too, after we recruited you.”
“ ‘We,’ ” I echo, still trying to process that. “I can’t believe you were a Mod that entire time.”
Even as I glower at him in accusation, I can’t resist opening a path and tapping into the frequency for telepathy.
When you link with someone, you need to ask for permission.
It’s a nudge, a polite way to access their mind, rather than the mind-reading frequency that allows you to push your way inside.
Luckily, every Mod has an internal alarm system designed to combat that unwanted intrusion.
If someone infiltrates your shield, an electric shock courses up the back of your neck, alerting you to the danger.
With telepathy, Mods possess their own unique energy signatures. You recognize that energy when you link, and if someone dies, that energy disappears.
Grayson doesn’t have a telepathic signature.
The discovery fills me with bewilderment. I can see his shield, a strong one, which means reading his mind is a possibility. But telepathic energy? Nothing.
“Why can’t I link with you?” I stare at him, suspicion churning in my stomach. “What kind of Mod are you?”
“The kind without telepathy.”
My mistrust gives way to surprise. “Bullshit.”
“It’s the truth.” He shrugs. “We’re a rare breed.”
“But you are Modified?”
“Yes.”
“So what can you do?”
That makes him chuckle. “Sorry, cowgirl. You’re need-to-know at the moment. Until you see the Authority, you’re not getting any more answers.”
“Fine. Where’s the Authority then? Where’s Adrienne?”
“You’ll be summoned soon for a briefing.” His comm vibrates in his hand, and he checks the screen again, sighing.
“Is that them?”
“No.” Sliding the device in his pocket, he takes off walking and gestures for me to follow him.
I struggle to match his long strides, trying to absorb everything I’m seeing.
And here I thought the Command base’s layout was complicated.
The Dagger is a sprawling network of tunnels and corridors bathed in artificial lighting.
There are cameras everywhere, and nearly every door requires a print or eye scan.
“Is this a fortress or a prison?” I ask, marveling at the security protocols.
“A little bit of both,” he says without slowing down.
“I can’t believe we’re inside a mountain.”
“Pretty fucking cool, huh?”
A pair of automatic doors slide open at our approach, and we head down another long corridor toward an elevator bank.
“How many levels is this place?”
“Three. This is the Operations floor, which houses our command center, training facilities, armory, comms. Second floor is R and I—Research and Intelligence,” he clarifies at my blank face. “It’s where you’ll find the medical bay, labs, that kind of stuff. And the top floor is Personnel.”
We ride the elevator to the third floor, where Grayson points out various facilities during our brisk walk.
Common areas, mess hall, kitchen. We pass only a handful of people on our mazelike journey.
They’re all in civilian clothes, and while they vary in skin and hair colors, they convey the same curiosity when they spot me.
“They know I’m a Mod, right?” I murmur when one of those civilians side-eyes me.
Grayson nods. “Only Mods are allowed in the Dagger. Which is another reason why Ford won’t be welcome. I really wish you ran it past Adrienne before you dragged his ass here.”
“Well, it’s too late now. He’s already here.” I glance over at him. “Why is it called the Dagger?”
“Because this mountain is full of daggerstone. When the founders of the Uprising stumbled on this place after General Redden’s Coup, they took a very literal naming approach.” His eyes dance with amusement.
His mention of the Coup is a depressing reminder that the Uprising has been in operation for twenty-five years now.
Twenty-five years of fighting against a regime that wants us either dead or living as second-class citizens.
General Redden’s Silver Jubilee was only days ago, the celebration marking a quarter century of his reign, and I was right there in the ballroom when that reign ended in crushing defeat as Adrienne corrupted the man’s brain.
I stood there in pure disbelief while she reduced the General to a vegetative state in front of our very eyes.
At that reminder, I force Grayson to stop walking, curling my hand around his arm. “Did you know what Adrienne was going to do to General Redden at the Jubilee?”
“Yes.” His response is swift. Unapologetic.
“And you just let her do that? She fried his brain.”
“Can’t say I’m too shaken up about it. The man has killed tens of thousands of Mods. He was the enemy, and we’re fighting a war.”
I know he’s right, but…Shouldn’t there be rules to warfare? Honor in war?
Honor? an inner voice mocks. You incited a woman to shoot herself in the head.
The memory triggers a rush of nausea. My hands shake a little, so I press them to my sides as I trail Grayson down the hall.
Even days after the fact, I can’t erase the horror of what I did.
I stole someone’s free will. It’s a sickening notion, making me feel like one of those vengeful gods we read about in school.
The ones who toyed with the mortals they created.
Tricked them, seduced them, tormented them whenever it struck their fancy.
But most of those mortals were innocent, I have to remind myself.
Jayde Valence, the woman I killed, was far from innocent.
She was the General’s right-hand woman, and she helped him kill and enslave her own people.
The world is a better place without her in it.
But isn’t it better off without the General, too? Maybe destroying an enemy of that magnitude justifies what Adrienne did.
What I did.
Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Finally, we reach the base’s living quarters. Grayson stops at a door at the end of the hall and presents his thumb to a scanner. The lock releases, and we enter what seems to be a small apartment.
His, I suspect, because the scent of him, crisp citrus and pine, lingers in the air.
There’s a flight jacket draped over a tall stool at the kitchen counter.
The living area contains a sofa, two armchairs, and a table laden with several tablets and a half-finished cup of coffee.
A wide doorway across the main space leads to what I assume are a bedroom and lavatory.
“These are your quarters?”
He nods.
“Why am I in your quarters, Kaine?”
“Grayson,” he corrects. “But you can call me Gray. Most people do.”
“Why am I in your quarters, asshole?”
His lips twitch. “Because you haven’t been assigned a room yet.” He walks toward an armchair. “I got you some clean clothes from Luisa.”
“Luisa?”
“You met her on the plane. My copilot. You’re about her size.
” He picks up a stack of clothing from the chair and passes it to me, nodding toward the doorway behind me.
“Lav’s through there. You’re covered in dirt and smell like campfire.
Why don’t you go take a shower? By the time you’re done, the Authority should be ready for you. ”