55
“Poet! Wake up!” Someone is shaking me, and I groan. “Poet. They caught him! Wake up.”
After Rook left me at the rocks last night, I snuck back into the school and passed out in his bed, still fully dressed. The room is cold, and my nose and fingertips burn with ice.
“What?” I ask, blinking against the morning light to find Domino standing over me, wearing her pajamas.
“It’s all over the news,” she says, sitting on the bed and holding out her phone. “They even have video.”
I snatch it from her and watch with mounting horror as the newscaster speaks in her crisp, clear voice.
“Solitude and second-year Amery Student Rook Athira was apprehended last night, ending a citywide manhunt for a killer. Patrol officers spotted him in the factory district at approximately eleven p.m. yesterday evening. Reports indicate the suspect ran, but after chasing him for several blocks, they surrounded and arrested him . . .”
Eleven p.m. Shortly after he left me at the rocks.
I choke out a sob, covering my mouth.
This is my fault. I’m the one who drew him out.
I wanted to see him, and all I did was put him in danger.
Suddenly, I don’t feel very well.
After tossing Domino’s phone on the bed, I leap up and bolt for the bathroom, where I hurl up the contents of my stomach until there’s nothing left. Tears run down my cheeks, and my nose drips, my lungs burning.
They have him. They’re claiming he’s a murderer. What will they do to him?
When I’m done puking, I sit back, leaning against the counter as Domino joins me on the floor.
“Where were you last night?” she asks softly.
“I went to see him,” I say. “They caught him because of me.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Domino says.
“I have to get him out. They’ll kill him.” I cover my mouth as my head spins with another wave of nausea, but I have nothing left to give. My stomach just cramps.
“We’ll figure out something. Why don’t we get you some coffee or a muffin? Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I’m fine,” I insist. “I need to talk to her. She has something to do with this. I know it.”
“Who?” Domino asks as I struggle to my feet. I lean over the sink and rinse out my mouth, then peer into the mirror. I look like shit. My hair is tangled, and my eyes are bloodshot. Good. I feel like shit, too. The outsides should reflect the insides.
“Poet, who do you need to talk to?” Domino asks.
I straighten up and look at her. “General Sol.”
A moment later, we’re on the school’s main floor, headed for the exit. When the Patrol tries to stop me, I tell them I’m headed to the Citadel to see my father. They buy it, and then I’m storming across the plaza with Domino chasing my heels.
“Poet, what are you doing?” Domino asks. “You can’t just demand to speak to the general.”
“No? Watch me.”
I should have done this a long time ago, but like a fool, I kept believing in her.
We enter the building and make a right toward the gates guarding the security wing. A receptionist sits at the desk, peering over the rim of her glasses as we approach.
“I’m here to see Scion Graves,” I say. “He’s expecting me.”
The woman frowns, a furrow forming between her eyes. “The scion didn’t alert me to any meetings today,” she says, tapping away on her computer.
“I’m not here for a meeting. I’m his daughter.”
The woman adjusts her glasses as if she’s trying to see me more clearly. “Hmm. Well, I’ll just call up and ensure everything is in order.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I say when she reaches for the phone on her desk. “As I said, he’s expecting me.”
A click off to my left signals the gate opening. Someone emerges, and I don’t waste a moment, grabbing it and sliding past.
“Hey!” the woman shouts. “You can’t do that!”
“C’mon,” I say to Domino.
She hesitates, clearly uncertain—with good reason—but then she follows.
“Get back here!” the receptionist yells. I ignore her as we head for the elevator and press the button for the very top floor.
The woman slides out from behind her desk and approaches on short, quick steps, shaking her fist, her heels echoing around us like gunshots. “Get back here!” she screeches. “I’ll call the Patrol!”
I jab the close button over and over. “Let’s go,” I mutter.
Finally, the doors begin to slide, and the woman lurches, trying to jam her arm between them, but she misses as they slam shut.
I exhale a breath of relief and collapse against the back wall, while Domino studies me like I’ve lost my mind. Also with good reason.
“Did we just break into the Citadel?” she asks as she watches the numbers climb. I realize she’s still wearing her pajamas with a pair of slippers.
“Sort of?” I say. “Don’t worry. I made it out last time.”
“Um,” Domino says. “Sorry if that doesn’t make me feel any better?”
I grin at her, and that doesn’t wipe the incredulous look off her face. I do feel a bit like I’m losing it. Like I’m not really here and I’m suspended outside my body. Untethered like a kite in a storm. Too many things aren’t adding up, and I need something to give.
The elevator climbs, and part of me expects it to stop midway, revealing an entire battalion of Patrols, but we reach the top floor with a ding. We’re so high up, I can practically feel the building swaying under my feet as we exit into the same foyer where they held my trial.
The polished tiles gleam in the light, and I stomp over the words Protect. Preserve. Prosper, which are carved into the floor, trying to punish them with my boots.
What a fucking lie.
Ahead of me is the room where I had my trial, while wide corridors lead left and right. I take a guess and turn left, assuming I’ve picked correctly when we enter a hallway decorated with various medals and honors bearing General Sol’s name.
Another reception desk awaits us, staffed by a man who eyes us warily.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
“I’m here to see the general,” I say, trying to sound confident.
“And you are?”
“Poet Graves,” I answer. “She’ll know why I’m here.”
“I’m sorry, but the general is busy. Perhaps we can make an appointment once I confirm she would indeed like to meet with you.”
“I don’t have time for that. I want to see her now.”
“Well, I’m sorry you—”
I don’t wait for him to finish. I storm past the desk and shove open the large double doors, revealing a massive office lined with windows and decorated with deep-purple tiles. In the center sits a huge black desk, from which General Sol slowly rises.
“Where is he?” I demand. “Tell me where he is!”
“Poet, what are you doing here? I told you that I have things under control.”
“We came back to help you!” I yell. “You said you needed us! But I know you’re lying. Where is he!”
“Theo, get Grady!” the general shouts as she rounds her desk, hands held out. “Poet, calm down,” she says in a soft voice that I assume is meant to be soothing, but all it does is piss me off even more.
How dare she?
“I won’t calm down! Let him go! He’ll leave the city, and he won’t bother anyone again. He didn’t kill those people, and you know it!”
“Poet,” the general says. “Please keep your voice down.”
“I will not! You tricked me! Why?!” The final word is hurled with such visceral frustration that my voice cracks. “Please! Just let him go!”
A flurry of footsteps sounds behind me, and I turn around to find the general’s Circle Guard approaching with their stunners all aimed at me. Domino waits off to the side, eyes wide, gaze jumping back and forth, clearly at a loss for what to do.
“Poet,” Sol says. “I think you need to calm down.”
“No!” I shout, spinning around to face her. “What have you done with him? I know it was you!”
Suddenly, I’m surrounded by her Guards, who block my path to the general. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of someone familiar in the doorway as they close in, choking me off.
“Dad!” I shout. “Make them tell me where Rook is! Please!”
I’m crying, tears streaming down my cheeks. My knees are weak. My stomach hurts. My heart flutters in my chest like it’s a caged moth desperately trying to escape.
Someone seizes me by the arm, and that’s when I completely lose it.
The fight in me rips free, exploding out of me with panic and devastation and fucking rage, giving me claws where I once had fingers. “Don’t touch me!”
More hands. More fighting. I scream. I shriek. My ears ring, and my voice cracks. I feel the air around me tearing apart.
My father approaches, his eyes dark and his expression grim.
“Poet, please,” he says, his voice low, pleading.
“Grady, deal with her!” I hear the general say. “If you cannot control her, I will have no choice but to dissolve our bargain.”
My father’s hand circles my arm.
I know that cold, firm grip.
My vision tunnels, smearing at the edges.
Sweat breaks out on my forehead.
My breath snips into pieces.
I thought . . . I thought I’d conquered this.
The fear. The sickening swirl in my stomach every time he touched me.
My surroundings darken as I see his hands reaching for me.
Pale against the shadows, delivering a biting sting of anger.
I hear the sound of bones cracking.
My mother screaming. Raine trying to drag me to safety.
I break from every string tethering me to this earth. I become nothing but a frothing ball of fire. A seething mass of deceit and confusion.
Teeth. Hair. Skin. And flesh.
“Don’t touch me!” I scream at him. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again!”
I feel a pinch, and then my thoughts swim.
“Poet, please!” My father’s voice turns distant. Muted.
But his pleas aren’t doused in that icy fury I know so well.
Instead, I hear his fear.
And that, more than anything, scares me the most.
I sway as the lights around me blur.
They’ve injected me with something. I try to run, but my feet won’t cooperate. They’ll take me away now, too. I was trying to help Rook, but I’ve fucked everything up.
The Veil is coming.
I need to tell someone. I need to protect my mother. Domino. Journey. The Fog.
I’ve let everyone down.
I start tipping forward, and someone catches me in their arms before everything spins out, and then I feel nothing.