The Lawless

by Dylan Steel

  When she reached Grayson’s level, Sage kept her hat low as she slipped out the stairwell door. She was more exposed here. Pausing to listen closely, she only moved toward the suite once she was sure she was alone.

  Her heart slammed in her chest as she stood in front of his entryway. Getting in wasn’t the problem. The real issue would be sneaking out—especially if their chat didn’t go well.

  She gritted her teeth, forcing those worries from her mind. Pulling a glove from her pocket, Sage tugged it over her hand and pressed her finger to the sliver of metal inside its cuff. The glove stiffened as a hand print pattern zigzagged across its palm, and she quickly pressed it to the scanner beside Grayson’s door.

  With a soft click, the door popped open, and Sage quickly slipped inside the suite, shutting the door quietly behind her. She’d hacked into Grayson’s private schedule and knew he’d be here now, but of course, he could be in any one of his rooms on either level. And after learning that Weston’s execution had been moved up, she hadn’t had time to study the suite’s layout, so she was basically navigating blind.

  A brief look around the room showed her three possible directions to choose, not counting the center stairway leading up to the top floor. Forcing herself to breathe more slowly than her racing heart, she shoved the glove back in her pocket and moved to the left, hoping the layout of the suite was similar to Weston’s.

  She moved from room to room, listening carefully as she went. A few clothes strewn about the bedroom indicated he’d been there recently, but there was no sign of him on this floor. She cursed under her breath. Going up another level made her more vulnerable to detection, but she had no choice.

  Returning to the main entryway, she braced herself to go up the winding staircase. But as she set a hand on the railing, she paused. There were footsteps above her, coming closer.

  Glancing around wildly, Sage mentally scrambled for a place to hide. Unfortunately, the foyer was large and open, and she doubted she could make it to one of the other rooms before she was spotted. Her only choice was hiding under the staircase, so she lunged beneath it quickly, pressing herself as flat as she could against the smooth, sloped marble.

  The footsteps grew louder, heavier. Another moment, and a familiar voice muttered something indistinguishable under his breath. It was definitely Grayson, and it sounded like he was alone, just as she’d hoped.

  Her fingers dove inside her coat, closing around the hilt of her small knife. No time for second-guessing.

  As soon as Grayson reached the ground and took a step away from the staircase, Sage slipped behind the benefactor silently, securing his arm and pressing the knife to his neck in one swift motion before he could resist.

  “Try anything, and I slit your throat,” she hissed in his ear.

  His jaw twitched, the only outward sign he’d heard her. “How primitive.”

  “But effective.” She twisted the blade, pressing the point near his artery.

  “Kill me and you kill yourself,” he growled, slowly raising his free wrist to remind her of the bracelet she too was wearing.

  “You assume too much,” she said, a hint of wry laughter in her voice. “Mine is no more than a prop. I’m not bound by your rules anymore.”

  She felt him swallow against the steel of her blade.

  “What do you want?”

  “To talk.”

  “You have an interesting way of requesting an audience. You could have simply—”

  “I’m left with few choices these days.” She pressed the blade harder against his skin.

  “And why might that be?” he asked, lifting his chin.

  “Because I’m supposed to be dead.”

  He stiffened. “Who are you?”

  “No one that matters. But we’ve met before. And you know my benefactor well.”

  “Weston.” His fist clenched. “You’re Weston’s pair.”

  “I am.”

  “So tell me, Miss Indarra. Why are you threatening my life from the shadows like a coward?”

  “That’s rich coming from a man who’s never had to fear death.” Her knuckles whitened around the handle. “I needed to make sure I had your undivided attention.”

  “I would say you’ve accomplished that.”

  “Good. I have a proposition for you.

  “By all means. I’m listening.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears. “I know you and Mr. Gaztok had a deal. And I know he hasn’t been in a hurry to fulfill his end of the agreement.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking a—”

  She pressed the knife against his flesh harder, drawing a trickle of blood from the tip of her blade.

  “Don’t lie to me, Mr. Grayson. It’s unbecoming of a man of your stature.” She began the bluff again, hoping Weston’s assumption hadn’t been wrong. “Mr. Gaztok will never give you what he’s promised. Not when he can just discard you after you’ve served your usefulness to him.”

  “He wouldn’t dare.”

  Relief swelled in Sage’s chest. That was close enough to an admission.

  “He’s dared to do a lot, I’d say,” she said through clenched teeth. “Including setting up my benefactor for murders that he committed.”

  Grayson stilled.

  “But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “I have no proof.”

  “And you’d let that stop you?” Sage clucked her tongue. “You made a deal with him. You’re a benefactor. I thought you were more powerful than that.”

  “I am.”

  Something in the tone of his voice chilled her to her soul. Before she could process the threat laced behind his words, he’d ripped the blade from his throat and wrenched himself free from her hold, spinning around, trapping her against the stairs as the knife clattered to the floor.

  “And I don’t need a bracelet or a blade to kill you,” he snarled, his hand clamped around her neck. “I could snap you like the meaningless twig you are with merely a breath.” He raked a fiery gaze over her slowly, murmuring, “And that would be such a waste.”

  “If you… kill me… you’ll lose… everything,” she spluttered. “Gaztok will… take it all… for himself.” She coughed, struggling against his tightening grip.

  “And you think you can stop him?” Grayson let out an eerie, hollow laugh, his lip curling into an unpleasant sneer. “You’re nothing.”

  “You can… stop him,” she wheezed, still scratching desperately at his fingers. “But not… without… my help.”

  “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll finish you right now.”

  The skin around Grayson’s eyes went taut as he studied her. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to figure out what she was hiding or if he could tame her long enough to satisfy his pleasure—either way, fear crept in along with the patches of darkness threatening to overtake her. She didn’t have much longer.

  Against every instinct, she dropped her hands and forced herself not to move, allowing Grayson the control he craved, hoping that would be enough for him.

  His grip eased slightly, just enough for her to drag in a labored breath.

  Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “You should speak while I’m feeling charitable.”

  As he drew back, she met his eyes, unnerved by the coldness she saw there. “I can’t stop him alone, but with my help—and Weston’s—you could take his place. Become the full Quorum without him, just like he’s doing now.”

  Grayson’s fingers tightened, digging into her throat. “Liar,” he hissed. “Weston would never allow me to rule.”

  “He would… in exchange… for his life,” she rasped, again struggling to breathe.

  The benefactor’s lips twitched, his hand easing its pressure as he considered her words.

  “He’d do more than let you rule,” she said, pressing the advantage of his temporary interest. “He’d turn over his estate to you. Renounce his lands and title. Manage it for you or go into exile—what
ever you’d command.”

  “You think my ego can be so easily stroked, girl?” Grayson growled, clamping his hold tighter. “I’ve known the Bennicks far longer than you. Weston would rather die than see me in his place.”

  Sage couldn’t stop herself from struggling. She pulled against his fingers, trying to break his grasp on her. “Maybe before… but not if—”

  Grayson’s eyes widened with understanding. He stared at her for a moment, then let go abruptly. Laughter echoed off the walls as he took a step toward her knife, kicking it out of reach.

  He turned back to her, venom behind his stare. “Love,” he spat. “You’re betting your life right now that he loves you more than he hates me.”

  She nodded slowly, rubbing her neck.

  “Naive little trinket. We don’t love anything other than power.”

  Her face reddened. “You know he’s different,” she said, making no motion to leave. “When Mr. Gaztok came for him, he came for me too. But Weston hid me and lied to Mr. Gaztok—told him I was dead so they wouldn’t take me too.”

  “Is he Lawless?”

  “Does it matter?” she shot back without flinching. “One way or another, he’ll have no power after tomorrow.”

  Grayson stared back at her expressionlessly. “Are you carrying his child?”

  “Weston’s never touched me,” she said hotly. “Why d—”

  “If you were carrying his child, it would make sense that he would want to protect you, want to save you. But this—” he gestured wildly, “—makes no sense.”

  “Unless it’s the truth,” she said quietly. “And it is. You know it is. Why else would he have stopped you from stripping all my Chances? Why else would I risk my life by coming here?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Assuming I believe you, isn’t it a tad late to be having this conversation? Mr. Gaztok is already the sole seat on the Quorum, and your dear former benefactor is no doubt suffering through the last few hours of his life.”

  Sage clenched her fists at her side, ignoring the pain lancing through her heart at his words. “It’s not too late yet, but we are running out of time.”

  “Say I’m feeling generous with your life and let you walk out my door. What would you propose we do?”

  “We just have to get Mr. Gaztok to turn over control of the Quorum to you.”

  “Ah, yes, so simple.” Grayson laughed, then arched an eyebrow at her somber expression. “How, exactly, do you suggest we do that?”

  “You have his ear, don’t you?” Sage finally dared take a step away from the staircase at her back. “He can’t have turned you away already. Soon, yes, but certainly not before he’s eliminated Weston as a threat? He’s paranoid right now—unreachable by anyone other than his guards, and they’re unlikely to leave his side. But based on your agreement, he’s still motivated to make you happy. If you can get him alone, I’m sure we can persuade him that turning the Quorum over to you is in his best interest.”

  “You want me to get him alone. To what—have a conversation?” Grayson scoffed.

  “To start. Of course, if he won’t see reason…” Sage shrugged, allowing him to draw his own conclusion.

  “You propose murder?” he asked skeptically.

  “Surely you’re not opposed to getting your hands dirty.”

  He raised his wrist slightly, deliberately emphasizing the bracelet he wore. “Not when there are unavoidable consequences.”

  “Yes, well, in this case, there’s no one left to administer those consequences,” Sage said.

  “Other than Gaztok himself, of course. Given his position, he could strip all my Chances in an instant if he suspected any disloyalty.”

  “Only if you let him,” she said, a challenge in her tone. “Soon, Mr. Gaztok’s plans of becoming the sole ruler of Eprah will become publicly known. Then, you will not only have outlived your usefulness, you’ll have become a liability—one who can challenge his authority. What makes you think you’ll be spared from the same accidents that have taken down the untouchable members of the Quorum?”

  “He wouldn’t dare. He needs me,” Grayson growled. But Sage saw the doubt flicker behind his eyes for an instant.

  “He doesn’t need you. Especially not when he has Kai as an obedient lap dog to do his bidding—or a hundred others who would gladly take his place—or yours. And you’ve already proven yourself too ambitious for your own good.” She shook her head. “Weston’s not the only one living out his last days, Mr. Grayson.”

  “Your proposal is suicide.”

  “Inaction is suicide,” she countered forcefully. “There’s never been a better time to make a move like this. And you will never have a better offer than you have now.”

  She pursed her lips. “Work with me, and Mr. Gaztok’s selfishness and betrayals will be his own downfall.”

  Grayson paused, looking at her appreciatively for the first time. She lifted her chin, doing her best not to squirm under his gaze.

  “I suppose Weston might not have been as insane as I thought, keeping you around.”

  7. DÉJÀ VU

  Sage paused at the bend in the tunnel, putting a hand against the wall to steady herself as she caught her breath. There was no sign of the Beautification workers she’d slipped past a few tunnels back. For now, she was in the clear.

  Her conversation with Grayson had gone about as well as she could’ve expected, but it had taken longer than planned. He’d been reluctant to let her out of his sight at the end of it. By the time he’d agreed to let her go, she’d had to sprint through the network of tunnels to make it to her tech contact, and she was pretty sure she still wasn’t going to make the meeting on time.

  Glancing around the corner, Sage crossed the intersection once she was sure she was alone, jogging down two more tunnels before she reached the overhead hatch that Clarette had assured her would be there. She had to jump a bit to reach it, but she managed to pull herself up quickly, sliding the door back into place beneath her once she was through.

  She stopped to survey the hall she now found herself in. She was out of the tunnels, but that didn’t mean she was safe. The building was supposed to be abandoned, but she knew that didn’t guarantee it was empty. If she didn’t want to be caught, she couldn’t afford to draw unnecessary attention to herself.

  Picking her way across piles of crumbled rock and fallen beams, Sage followed the path to the tech room from memory, hoping Clarette’s directions were accurate.

  From the outside, the room looked the same as all the others. Abandoned. Desolate. Destroyed. But as she approached it, she could hear the subtle hum of tech running on the other side of the door. Holding her breath, she pushed it open and stepped inside.

  “You’re late,” a deep voice greeted her.

  The tension in her shoulders drained away at the sound of her contact’s voice. She wasn’t too late.

  “I’m glad you’re still here. I wasn’t sure you’d wai—” Sage froze in the doorway, staring at the masculine figure half-hidden in shadows. Recognition scrawled across her face. “You?”

  Dark eyes flashed back at her. “Me.”

  “You’re Clarette’s contact?” She shot a quick glance around the room, making sure there was no one else waiting inside—waiting to arrest her.

  “I guess you’d better hope I am, huh, Indarra?” The figure stepped forward, grinning.

  Connor.

  Relief and fear mingled together as her suspicions were confirmed. She wasn’t sure which reaction to trust.

  “Gotta say, I’m glad the rumors of your death have been exaggerated. Though I can’t say all the Kunbriat would agree with me.”

  “You weren’t supposed to wait for me if I was late,” she said dumbly.

  “What, and leave all this mess up to fate? No, thanks. Tried that before—didn’t work out.”

  The realization swept over her all at once. “Your parents…”

  “Were Lawless?” He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “You ne
ver said that’s why you thought they’d be in the Dungeon.”

  “I didn’t exactly approve at the time.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “And I was just so angry at them for getting caught—and then at myself for not finding them after…”

  Sage leveled her gaze at him. “Were you the one that turned them in?”

  “No.” Anger burned behind his eyes. “I didn’t approve of what they were doing, but they were still my parents. I couldn’t turn them in. I don’t know if anyone did or if they just got careless.”

  “And you approve now?” she asked, skepticism in her voice.

  “They’re dead because of Eprah,” he said dryly. “Why should I care anymore what happens to this place?”

  She bit the inside of her lip, dropping her gaze. He was an old friend—she hated that she couldn’t just believe him, but if this was true, he’d kept so much from her. How could she trust him now?

  He sighed. “If you need me to spell it out, then yes, I’m Lawless. It’s the only way I’d have ever met Clarette, you know. She’s not even in Eprah’s system. She doesn’t technically exist.”

  Sage’s brows wrinkled. “Yeah… She mentioned that. Why isn’t she—”

  “And I’m also on the tech rotation,” Connor added quickly, cutting her off, “which means that I’m due back to work in three and a half hours, whether or not I managed to get any sleep. And my supervisor won’t care if I didn’t—I’ll still have to get everything done without errors, and I don’t have an altered bracelet,” he said pointedly, “so I have real Chances on the line.”

  She stared back at him silently, still debating.

  “Look, trust me or not, but I need you to decide now, or I really will disappear.” He tilted his head, studying her reaction. “Just seeing you here alive would be enough for me to turn you in, you know. This is the only way you get to check on your benefactor and not go into this whole rescue thing blind.”

  Sage clenched her fists, shooting him a withering look. “Fine.”

  “Alright.” He nodded, turning toward the tech table.

  She stepped up beside him, watching closely as the lights flickered on in front of them. Connor moved his hand across the space, pulling up the familiar code.