Chapter 3
The Command stockade comprised an entire wing of their base, offering dozens of cells.
The Dagger, I’m told, has only three, and Kallister explains that the Uprising implements a zero-tolerance policy.
Low crimes, like theft, insubordination, or repeated brawling, result in exile back to the wards.
You screw up enough times, you’re out, but apparently, low crimes are rare.
Not many Mods want to risk being sent back to the wards.
High crimes, he tells me, are the ones you can’t come back from. Murder. Rape. Treason. Commit one of those, and you forfeit more than your place in the network. You forfeit your life.
“Do they at least get a trial?” I ask with a frown. “An opportunity to explain any extenuating circumstances?”
“Of course. But if they’re found guilty, they die.”
I wince. “Isn’t that barbaric?”
“We don’t have the resources to waste on murderers and rapists.” He gives me a sidelong look. “And be honest with me—would you want to continue living in an isolated mountain with the person who raped you? With someone who killed someone close to you?”
I let that sink in, slowly shaking my head. “No. I wouldn’t.”
He guides me down a corridor that seems to penetrate deeper and deeper into the mountain.
We pass through a small, brightly lit holding room, where a dark-haired female guard sits behind a desk, her presence the only sign of life in the otherwise silent space.
Kallister greets her with a nod, then scans his print at the metal door near her desk.
“The cells are down here,” he tells me.
Beyond the door, the lighting isn’t bright anymore.
Iron sconces flicker weakly along the walls, casting uneven shadows on the rough surfaces.
Three cells line the short corridor. Each one has a hard-packed dirt floor and steel bars embedded into the rock and cement walls.
Two of them are empty, but the third reveals a lone figure sitting on the floor rather than on the bed or the bench against the wall.
His long legs stretch out in front of him, head bent.
He looks up at the sound of our footsteps but remains seated.
I don’t miss his relief when Xavier’s gaze meets mine. He was afraid they’d done something to me. I find it sort of sweet that he cares. Like he’s seeing me as more than just his best friend’s girl now, as someone he considers a friend.
When his dark-brown eyes shift to Kallister, his demeanor changes. Stiffening. “Who the hell are you?”
Kallister is unfazed by the rude reception. “Kallister Ash. I run this base.”
“Congratulations, prickhole. How long do you plan on keeping me in here?”
“Well, I was about to let you go, but you just called me a prickhole, so…indefinitely, I suppose.”
I hide a smile. “Can we have a moment alone?”
Kallister takes a step away. “That’s fine. Just shout for Neema when you’re ready to leave.”
“Can I go into the cell with him? I don’t want to talk to him through bars. I promise he’s not going to hurt me.”
“I might,” Xavier calls out.
“Shut up,” I call back.
Kallister thinks it over, then shrugs. “All right. But I won’t be held responsible if he strangles you to death.”
“Honestly, I can be a real quat. If he kills me, just assume I said something to deserve it.”
Xavier’s snicker echoes through the cellblock.
Because Kallister is a member of the Authority, I suppose his prints allow him access anywhere on the base, and sure enough, the bars slide open when he scans the keypad.
I step into the cell, and the door closes and locks behind me.
Once Kallister is gone, Xavier hops to his feet and runs both hands through his cropped brown hair.
Before I can speak, he nods toward the corner of the ceiling to indicate the camera.
I nod back. I assumed we’d be recorded, which is going to make it difficult to have a real conversation.
“I really wish you had telepathy,” I remark.
“Would definitely come in handy right now,” he agrees.
“Are you all right?”
He offers a careless shrug. “I’m always all right—” He stops, caught off guard when I suddenly yank him in for a hug.
But it’s only so I can bring my lips to his ear to murmur, “He can’t get you out.”
Xavier knows who I mean. He gives me a quick squeeze, then pulls back, resigned. Nodding as if to say, I figured.
My brain is already scrambling to figure out how we can talk openly. There must be a jammer somewhere on this base, something that can block cameras and other recording devices. Until I get my hands on one, I can’t take any risks.
“Nobody’s hurt you?” I ask, studying him.
He’s still in the black pants and long-sleeved shirt he wore in the Blacklands, and his jaw is coated with beard growth. He itches it absently as he wanders toward the single bed and sinks onto the edge of the hard mattress.
“I’m fine. They just tossed me in here and left. Hell, they even brought me dinner. I’m pretty sure it was real beef,” he marvels. “Goddamn delicious.”
“I know, right?” I grin at him. “Honestly, once they let you out of jail, I think you’re really going to like it here.”
“Highly doubt it. These people are assholes.” He glances at the ceiling and raises his voice. “Yeah, you heard me,” he says to the camera.
I sit beside him and nudge him with my elbow. “Stop. Let’s not piss anyone else off.”
“What difference does it make? They’re never letting me out of here. At least not alive.”
“You don’t know that.”
His voice turns gruff. “Come on, Wren. Let’s not be stupid now. I knew what would happen if I helped you escape. I never expected your Uprising to show me mercy.”
“What was your plan then?” I ask in dismay. “To just let them kill you?”
Xavier shrugs. “Figured I’d eventually find a way out. Disappear into the wards, maybe.” He studies the stone walls of the cell, cursing under his breath. “But I didn’t foresee their HQ being inside of a fucking mountain. I feel like this poses a problem for my escape plans.”
“You think?” I say, but my good humor fades fast. “I just came from a briefing with the Authority. I spoke to them on your behalf, so hopefully they take what I said into consideration. I told them about the mission in Ward C when we found those fragmented Mods, how disturbed you were about what the Company was doing to them.”
Since his arm is touching mine, I feel it stiffen slightly. Good. He gets it.
“Maybe they don’t believe you’re willing to help us, but I know you meant it when you told me the Company needs to be punished for experimenting on innocent civilians.”
In my peripheral vision, I glimpse the merest hint of a smile.
“But the most important thing is—you risked your life for me, a Mod. I’ll never forget that, and no matter what happens, I’ll do whatever I can to repay the favor. Keen?”
After a beat, he nods, and I squeeze his hand.
“I’m meeting with them again in the morning. Will you be okay sitting tight for now?”
He snorts. “What else do I have to do?”
“I’ll see about getting you a tablet or something.”
“Darlington. They’re not giving me access to any of their tech. Come on now.” He turns to flash a snide grin at the ceiling. “I plan on jerking off the entire time I’m in here,” he calls to the camera. “You’re welcome.”
He’s incorrigible. Laughing, I poke him in the side again. “I know you don’t believe me, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to get you out.”
I stay awhile longer, but the conversation is insignificant. We don’t mention Cross or reveal anything we don’t want the Uprising to know. It’s not until I walk to the cell door, prepared to shout for the guard, that Xavier comes up beside me, his rough whisper filling my ear.
“Wren…do you trust these people?”
I tilt my head to meet his serious eyes. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
Gray is the one to collect me from the cells, taking me back to his quarters. I guess I’m not being assigned my own until I pass their little disclosure process.
“I’m sleeping on your couch?” The sofa’s been made up with bedsheets, a pillow, and a thin gray blanket.
“Nope. I’m sleeping on my couch.” He sighs. “You, Darlington, are one of the rare women blessed with the honor of gracing my bed.”
“I’m fine sharing if you want.”
“Nah, I don’t think my girlfriend would like that.”
I raise an amused brow at him. “You have a girlfriend.”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Um, because only a few months ago you were sleeping your way through the Command base?”
“She wasn’t my girlfriend then,” he says with a shrug. “Although with that said, you have a very vivid imagination. I didn’t touch anyone on that base. Well, except you,” he amends.
A groove digs into my forehead as I think back to our time together in Silver Block. He certainly implied he was sleeping around, never once denying the ladies’ man reputation he’d gotten around base.
“Does your girlfriend know?” I prop my hip against the counter that divides the kitchen and living area. “About us?”
“She does not.”
“Should I assume you want me to keep it quiet?”
“Probably a good idea.” He wanders into the kitchen. “Not because I feel guilty about it. She and I weren’t together at the time.” He glances at me over his shoulder, his expression taking on a wry gleam. “But Karra does have a temper, so…Tell her at your own risk.”
“Not my place to say a word,” I answer lightly.
Opening a cupboard, he changes the subject. “I don’t have any other clothes for you, so I left one of my shirts on the bed. You can sleep in that.”
“Thanks. What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“Seriously? It feels like the middle of the damn night.”
“I mean, a lot’s happened today. You survived a journey through the Blacklands. Reunited with your favorite person—talking about myself, obviously. Met your dead uncle’s twin brother. It’s been eventful.”
“Quite,” I agree.
“Do you want a drink? There’s a man in the valley who makes the most ridiculously potent wine.” He holds up a black bottle.