CHAPTER TWELVE
It was happening again. I could taste the smoke…feel it burning my nostrils…enveloping me. Panic was a lightning strike through my veins.
Everything around me snapped into focus.
I saw the shadows of the flames, which I knew were billowing just behind me, flickering across the faces of the Enforcers.
I saw those mysterious white guns, which I knew they had every intention of using, drawn and aimed at us.
And I saw Irene, gripping her injured shoulder, standing in front of me.
Shielding me with her body. I knew the words that were about to come out of her mouth before she uttered them.
“She doesn’t know anything.”
What didn’t I know?
Leon would speak next. Leon, the Mentor of the Enforcers. Leon, Irene’s personal mentor. Leon, the only person left in this entire city, in this entire world, who gave a shit about the two of us. Whatever was happening, whatever this was, he would make it right.
That’s what I thought the first time. But I had lived this too many times. I knew better now.
We needed to run.
Run. Run. Run. Fucking run.
“I mean it,” Irene said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. “Maila’s just a child. She doesn’t know anything.”
“That seems unlikely,” he said flatly, in that gravelly voice that will haunt me forever.
“You have my word.”
Irene was back to being calm, strong, unfazed. Or at least she had mustered everything in her to appear that way. Inside, I wondered if she was terrified, like I was. I could feel the tears burning my eyes, but I was too scared to release them.
This time, I would get out. This time, I would make it stop.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I opened them. The scene before me was the same.
“Your word doesn’t mean much, now does it?” Leon sighed, pulling me back to the conversation and back to what I knew was going to happen next.
At this, all the men shifted on their feet, eyes darting around uncomfortably.
Leon could feel their unease. He looked each of them in the face, one by one, ten in total. He saw them staring at my sister with pain in their eyes and knew he was losing them. She was their fellow Enforcer. Their friend. How many times had one of her comrades told me Irene was “the best of them?”
Leon needed to act fast. I saw this now as I saw it then, and I knew what was coming. He stalked over to my sister and jerked her down to her knees.
Now came my part in this.
In the blink of an eye, I was jumping to my feet and sprinting toward him. My brain was running through every weak spot that existed on his body. Should I kick? Punch? Claw?
All I knew in that moment was that I was going to kill him.
But like always, I suddenly jerked backwards. Someone was behind me, holding me. One of Leon’s men. I could see the hands on my arms, feel the leather of his gloves. Hear him grunting as I thrashed against him.
It all happened quickly from there. It always did.
Leon removed a pistol from the holster at his side. It was smaller than the large white guns that the other Enforcers were carrying. But the moment he aimed it at Irene’s head, it became the single most terrifying thing I had ever seen.
A scream erupted from me. The men averted their eyes.
My sister, despite being on her knees in the dirt, completely disheveled, arm hanging at an unnatural angle, skin damp from our proximity to the fire…she held her head high.
Leon fired.
I watched Irene slump to the ground, never to move again.
But I was certain it was me who had died.
I don’t know which was worse—waking up in the middle of the night and realizing Nya and Kieran were gone, or jolting awake again from my nightmare a few hours later and realizing that I was back. Back to my usual. Back to my day-to-day.
My time outside the walls was over.
The return to my routine felt like a physical force weighing on me, tugging me down. A force that I had no choice but to succumb to, because what else was I going to do?
“I’m glad you made a lot of progress on your project,” Brielle exclaimed as we walked to our work assignments. She had baked blueberry muffins as if me going back to work was something to celebrate. “But I missed you!”
“I missed you, too.” I set a muffin carefully inside my book bag. If there was anything worth celebrating, it was that she bought it. She thought I had truly been holed up in my apartment, sitting in the middle of a sea of books and hand-scribbled notes, working on a project.
Brielle eyed my bag. “Aren’t you going to eat it now?”
“Oh, I wish I could,” I said. “But my stomach’s been acting up this morning. I don’t think I could eat anything right now, no matter how amazing it tastes.”
Brielle frowned. Her hazel eyes flitted over me, assessing. “Maybe you overdid it. Working day and night on that project. Did you even sleep?”
I shrugged and flashed a smile that I hoped looked reassuring. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
The walk to the Knowledge Center was the same as always.
Eventually, I got Brielle talking about a shipment of food items that Culinary Preservation was going to be getting soon, and what they would be able to make from some of the delicacies it contained.
When I arrived in the Library, Cato seemed pleased to see me.
I assured him that the past few days had been relaxing and much-needed, and I thanked him for allowing me to take that time.
When he heard that, he had such a self-satisfied look on his face.
Like he had made some breakthrough as my Mentor.
It made the guilt curdle in my stomach. Thankfully, he had a stack of research assignments for me that had piled up while I was gone, and I threw myself straight into them.
I worked on them diligently throughout the morning and into the afternoon.
Doing what was expected. What was required.
At lunch, Brielle chattered on about the happenings in Culinary Preservation. Then, once she had exhausted that topic, she shared the latest gossip that was floating around the Knowledge Center.
It was innocent, I knew. Brielle kept me informed on these things because she felt like it was her job to do so. Her role as my more extroverted friend. And it was something to fill the silence on days like today, when my mind was so clearly elsewhere.
But today, more than ever, the stories about the couple who had started seeing each other while I was gone and the once-friends who had had a screaming match in the middle of the courtyard reminded me of a swarm of gnats that we had encountered on our hike to the beach a few days ago.
Buzzing around my ears, attempting to fly in my eyes and nostrils. An intolerable nuisance.
“Hey, there!”
Zander sat down next to me with his tray of food. His plate was piled high with pasta, bread, and a fresh side salad. He dug in right away. “I didn’t think I was going to make it in time to have lunch with you two,” he said between mouthfuls. “We’ve been so busy today!”
“Well, we’re glad you could make it,” Brielle chirped. “Now we’re all reunited!”
I just smiled politely.
With Zander joining us, Brielle naturally had to repeat all the same stories to bring him up to speed.
He nodded along, occasionally chiming in with a “Wow!” or a “No kidding!” I stared at my own plate.
It was just as filled as Zander’s, also with pasta, bread, and salad.
Our assigned lunch. I stared at it until I was certain my eyes would bore holes in the buttered top layer of the bread.
It wasn’t fair that we were so limited in what we were permitted to eat, was it?
That’s what I had always believed, if I was being honest. There were loopholes, like the ones Brielle took advantage of, to getting more exotic food.
To getting the food you wanted. If you worked in the right department or knew the right people.
But then, weren’t we also lucky to have what we had? Maybe pasta wasn’t what I felt like eating today, but it was something substantial. It was calories. It was something to fill me up, make me feel satisfied. Something to give me the energy I needed to get through the rest of the work day.
“What are you thinking about?” Zander’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
I met his amber gaze.
He was different somehow. Still handsome, but different.
I waited for that usual flush to creep up my cheeks. For that simple, biological reaction to having an attractive man stare at me like he was struggling not to picture me naked. Instead, a melancholy feeling drifted over me.
What had changed about him in the few days that I was gone?
“I’m not really thinking about anything in particular,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “Just got lost in thought, I guess.”
Zander continued to look at me for a moment, refusing to avert his eyes.
Something in his expression made me feel tense. Like he thought if he stared at me long enough, I would reveal what was truly on my mind. Or maybe it was more than that. It was like he was studying me. Trying to make sense of me.
When he finally turned back to Brielle, asking a follow-up question about whatever it was she had last said, I was relieved.
I shifted my focus back to my food. My untouched food.
After lunch, I was passing through the main atrium of the Knowledge Center, headed back to the Library, when someone caught my arm.
Even though he had made to head back in the direction of the city, I somehow wasn’t surprised when I turned to find Zander standing there.
“Hey, Maila.”
No nickname. I don’t think that had happened since we first met years ago.
“Are you sure everything’s alright?”
My immediate reaction was to insist that it was and then regurgitate one of my go-to lies about a project from Cato or getting lost in a daydream or some other dismissive shit that frankly, I was getting tired of myself.
But the sincerity in his eyes had me giving as honest an answer as I felt comfortable giving.