19
No one notices us at first. We’re lost in the crowd, anonymous in a sea of faces. Rook and I exchange cautious looks as we weave through the throng. I search for any sign of Extinguishers patrolling the plaza. General Sol assured us they would be here, because they’re everywhere now.
I notice a group of people marching in a circle, holding up signs with messages like End the Hunt and Save the Keepers, written in thick black letters.
“What are they doing?” I ask Rook as he stops to watch them.
“They’re protesting,” he says, tipping his head. “On behalf of Keepers.”
“Why?”
“Maybe they see how wrong it all is, too.”
I spot a sign plastered with a picture of my face with the words Stop the lies scribbled underneath. Sol was telling the truth about clearing my name. A lump rises in my throat, and suddenly, I feel a little more confident about her plan.
I scan the plaza, noticing that plenty of people ignore the protestors, while others watch them curiously. Because of the spectacle, or because they agree?
We’ve been gone for almost two months. How much has changed?
I watch as a trio of Patrol officers in dark-blue uniforms walks over to talk to the group. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s clear from everyone’s body language that they’re having an argument.
Rook tugs on my hand. “We should keep moving.”
As we wind through the market, a woman peers up from a fruit stand where she’s sniffing an apple, her gaze narrowing.
General Sol told us that my picture has been shared everywhere in the news, and people have been asked to keep an eye out for me. As for Rook? Well, he stands out no matter where he goes.
The woman’s eyes widen as she looks away and carefully tucks the apple into her shopping bag. She says something to the shop vendor, and I can tell he’s trying not to look over at us.
“We’ve been spotted,” I say.
Rook nods. “Just put your head down. This way.”
We weave through the crowd, hoping it looks like we’re trying to escape.
“Hey!” comes a deep voice a few seconds later. Rook picks up his pace, and I follow close behind, shoving through the crowd. “Hey! Stop!” the same voice yells. I look over my shoulder to see an Extinguisher pushing through the masses. He’s tall, towering over everyone in his bloodred uniform.
“Run,” Rook says, and then we’re off.
It starts a chain reaction. People shout as we shove past, chaos erupting through the square. My surroundings become a blur as we run, trying to make it look like we’re escaping.
Rook leads us back to the same alleyway where we first arrived. We thunder down its length, disappearing into cool shadows when we come up against the dead end. We stop and turn around as two large forms fill the far end of the alley.
The Extinguishers approach, at first shadowed by the encroaching buildings, before they materialize with ugly twin sneers.
“We’ve been looking for you,” the one on the right says. I squeak in fear—I don’t need to fake this bit—and search the alley for an escape. Of course, there isn’t one. That was the point. Still, I wish I could run.
“Stay away from her,” Rook warns, shielding me with his body. I think about what he said to me a few minutes ago. What his father said about putting everyone ahead of his own well-being. I know this is fake. I know we’re just pretending, but Rook is protecting me like he said he would.
The Extinguishers stop, and one of them snorts. “Out of the way, scat,” he says. “Or we’ll take you in, too, and just for fun, see how loud you scream.”
“Rook,” I say. “Move. I’ll go with them.”
The last thing I want is for him to end up in their hands. I am still the daughter of Grady Graves, and I have to believe that will offer me at least some protection.
“Yeah, Rook,” one of the Extinguishers says. “Listen to your girlfriend.”
They laugh and bump fists as if they’ve just said something clever. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Then they’re on us. One of them occupies Rook while the other shoves me to the side, throwing me against the wall.
My head cracks against the stone, and I groan, my vision smearing.
I blink blood out of my eyes as he fumbles with my wrists.
I feel the snap of cold metal. Then a large hand wraps around my arm with a bruising grip.
“This way, darling,” one of them says as a pair of Patrols darkens the alley.
“Hold that one back,” the other orders, referring to Rook. “Lock him up, too, if he causes too much trouble.”
“Poet!” Rook is screaming. He sounds terrified, and I don’t think he’s faking this, either. I’m crying, blood and tears coating my lips as I’m dragged back into the crowd. I hear gasps of horror as I’m carted to the edge of a plaza.
“Poet! Poet!”
Rook’s voice follows me as we approach a dock and I’m shoved onto a boat. Just like that night when they took Lacey away. I sway on my feet as my vision clouds with fear.
Idly, I wonder what happened to her. I haven’t thought about her in months. She’s almost certainly dead, just like I probably will be before the sun rises tomorrow. This was such a reckless idea. Why did we listen to the general?
I’m shoved onto a bench, my arms bending painfully behind my back.
“Poet!” Rook calls, kneeling at the edge of the canal and reaching for me. But it’s useless. The boat is already pulling away, the entire thing rumbling with the engine’s vibrations.
“Rook!” I scream, fighting against my restraints, fear curdling through my trembling limbs. “Rook!”
He shouts my name as he falls to his stomach and reaches for me, but he’s too far away, even if my hands weren’t bound.
Suddenly, I’m furious. I’ve done nothing wrong. I can’t help the way I was born.
A shriek erupts from my throat. It’s a wail channeled with all of my anger and frustration. The hurts and rage. The fear I’ve lived with every day.
I’m still screaming as I notice several Patrol guards swarming Rook. They grab him by the arms and pull him to his feet. He fights against them, bucking and jerking.
“Rook!” I shout. “Roooooook!”
“Shut up,” someone snarls.
A hand cracks across my cheek before everything goes black.