CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR #3
“Do your friends all have chips?” I asked. I was curious how many had freedom.
“That’s not information I can share. Those who are free don’t discuss it. Everyone fears being found out and having a chip reinserted.”
“How long have you known them?”
“A long time. I met Barrett right after I left the Academy. Then I met Kane and Gerald about a year later. I met Bri two years ago. She used to be with my bunkmate.”
“Does she actually put daggers in the sofa?”
Hal chuckled against the top of my head.
“Didn’t forget that? Yeah, she does. They’re sheathed, but she constantly tells Barrett she’s going to leave one unsheathed when he annoys her.
We’ve all taken to checking the couches before sitting.
She also”—he moved some pillows to the right of us and pulled out a lethal-looking dagger—“sleeps with one under her pillow.”
“Why in the world does she do that?” I demanded, shocked.
“Says it lulls her to sleep,” Hal said, shrugging, putting it back. “She’ll kill me if she finds out I touched it. It’s our one bunk rule.”
“Wait, you share a room with her?”
“Yeah. She moved in a couple of moons ago when”—he paused—“when her old place didn’t work for her, and she’s involved enough that this suited her.”
“Why doesn’t she stay in the other room?” I asked as jealousy coursed through me.
“Barrett snores. We drew straws, and I won. I used to have two male bunkmates, but”—he stopped himself, raking his hand through his hair—“they aren’t with us anymore.”
“And you two never . . .” I began quietly.
“No, never.”
I swallowed. “But there were others?”
“Is this really what you want to discuss now?”
I shrugged.
“Yes, there were. There hasn’t been anyone in some time.”
I nodded into his chest, that knot in my throat throbbing.
“I’m a moon closer to the procreation phase,” I muttered. “If I can’t stay here, then that means I have no choice but to go back to . . .”
Hal blew out a breath. “I know. Two moons left.”
It warmed my heart that he knew. I pushed off of him, coming to sit beside him.
“Hal, I don’t want to give this to him. I can’t stand the idea of allowing them to take anything else from me.
I want a choice. I want to be more than a vessel.
I want . . .” I shook my head at all the things that rushed to be voiced—at all the wants I had spent a lifetime ignoring.
“To help,” Hal finished for me, pushing himself off the bed.
I pulled the blanket up, covering myself as I took in Hal’s naked body. “Yes, I do.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“You say that about everything.”
“Because it is.”
“I can’t spend my entire life doing this,” I stated, gesturing to myself.
At what their conditioning had failed to achieve.
I couldn’t be content like Lo. I couldn’t ignore the injustice.
I couldn’t conform. Down here—down here I might be able to do something else.
Something more. It was dangerous, but so was giving in to what they had raised me to be.
I might die from this choice, but had I not been slowly dying this entire time?
“Hal, if I can’t remove my chip, let me help,” I almost begged. “I want to do something. I can’t go up there and be with him. I need to do something.”
Hal bent down to retrieve his pants. He slipped them on as he said gruffly, “Then be his Mate.”
“I am his Mate. How is that doing anything?” I came to my knees, knuckles white where I gripped the blanket.
Hal stared at the wall. “He is clearly affected by you. He might even care. You could use that to your advantage.”
I shook my head. “You’re confused. He only cares that I don’t make him look bad.”
“Perhaps, but the Collin I knew at the Academy was stoic. Unflappable. He failed at nothing. He was never goaded into a fight, into breaking a rule. He didn’t miss a step when they pulled Nora from the Academy. Told everyone it was an honor. He isn’t like that with you.”
“That is one argument,” I countered. Hal was wrong. Collin just couldn’t stand my inability to listen.
“So he’s never been like that with you any other time?” Hal asked, shrugging on his shirt.
Heat rushed through my body at the memory of Collin.
You’re maddening, consuming, unwilling to follow any of their rules. I have a role to play and yet I spend my time thinking about you.
“He’s only like that because I don’t follow the rules. I mess up the role he plays,” I assured Hal. Or was I assuring myself?
“I saw the photo,” Hal said quietly.
Suddenly I was aware of how naked I was—how exposed.
“It was a just kiss for the Press,” I said, attempting to brush off the warmth I felt in my cheeks.
Hal shrugged. “If you want to help, just be his Mate and use his lack of composure to our advantage. Gain his trust.”
It was Violet’s same advice. “What would I do once I had it?”
“He might let slip information on the Illum. Once we know you have his trust, we could feed false information to the Illum,” Hal said. “Just something to think over. How much are you willing to do to help?” His eyes locked with mine. “Who are you willing to hurt?”
I bit my lip as my thoughts picked up speed. What if I didn’t want to hurt anyone? I wanted to help those mothers. I wanted to help the crying offspring. I wanted to help the drugged Minors. Violet and Rose, Gregory and Nora—I wanted them to have a place to belong.
Not everyone in the clouds deserved to be destroyed. It wasn’t that simple.
“Before we started this conversation, I was going to tell you I got you something. Stay here,” Hal told me, a gleam in his eyes.
“Okay.”
Hal smiled at me. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Hal smiling, despite all the darkness that surrounded us. I wished I could capture it. To hold it forever. He darted from the room.
I stretched out but quickly retracted my legs.
Soreness shot through me from a choice I had made all on my own, and a grin spread wide on my face.
Something they couldn’t take from me, even if I couldn’t stay.
I threw the blanket off and shimmied gingerly into my clothes and shoes before heading into their living area.
I glanced around the room, every corner, every surface radiating life.
People lived down here. I walked to the dartboard.
Tallies sat by every name. Countless games had been played.
I sidestepped the mat and its blood and headed to the sofas.
They were worn in and ripped, the likes of which would never be found above the surface.
Cushions lay permanently sunken from holding the people who dwelled here.
Even in the disarray, life shined through.
The table was laden with bottles of something that smelled sour, some almost empty cups of that drink Lo always had. Papers and weapons were sprinkled throughout.
I was surprised they had any weapons left behind after how many Barrett and Bri had strapped to their bodies. A rusty, ancient-looking gun lay on the table. A word caught my attention—a word scribbled on a piece of paper, poking out from beneath the gun. Moonlight.
I smiled to myself, wondering why the nickname was written down here for all of his friends to see. I gently moved the weapon from the paper, pulling it toward me.
It wasn’t just a paper, though.
It was a folder. As I lifted it, several pages fell to the ground.
A ringing began in my ears as I looked at the first paper. My heart hammered harder with each page, and my hands shook.
Pages of thorough information on me, on my job, on my birth family, my defect. Information that had been collected over a period of time, longer than the few weeks I had known Hal. I leafed through page after page. My pulse thundered in my ears, blocking everything out.
Images of me standing, waiting for a Pod.
Images of me walking into the Capitol building.
Images of me with Lo.
Images of me in my office.
My breaths became sharp, shredding everything in my chest.
That one word.
I felt like I had been drenched in ice-cold water, a chill gripping my bones. Notes were scribbled in the margins in a sloppy, slanted scrawl.
Likes art. Stares a lot. Learn about art.
Has no friends. Alone.
Hates her eyes, make her like them.
Make her care. Easiest way to manipulate.
About 90 moons until procreation.
I stared at the words. That warm, wonderful feeling that had unfurled in my chest ruptured, shattering all the things I thought I knew, all the things I thought I wanted.
I was acutely aware of the door opening as I shut the folder. Hal was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him over the roaring in my head, the word written on the folder taunting me. I turned, the folder clenched in my hand.
“Moonlight.”