The Lawless

by Dylan Steel

Sage’s brow knit together. Without thinking, she shoved past her father and threw herself forward, gripping Mr. Gaztok’s arms, giving him a hard shake as he took another labored breath. “What don’t I know?”

  A wild laugh bubbled out of him as he stared back at her, eyes glazing over. He didn’t answer.

  Still crouched over him, she shook him again, hoping for a response, but his laughter faded into harsh rasps and his breathing slowed, becoming steadily shallower until it stopped altogether.

  Blood pumped rhythmically in her ears, drowning out all other sounds in the room.

  She’d just killed the man who’d tried to destroy her life. And he’d taken his secrets to the grave.

  17. SHAKY GROUND

  Ethan set his hand on Sage’s shoulder gently. She jerked in surprise at his touch, nearly falling over as she scrambled back.

  Her father. Half of her wanted to run to him, embrace him. But the other half of her was entrenched in suspicion after years of heartbreak and betrayal.

  Why hadn’t he found a way to tell her that he was alive? Why had he let her sit in the Institution all those years—being raised by the very same people he obviously thought were so corrupt that he’d thought it worthwhile to fake his own death?

  She shoved down the swell of relief and hope and happiness that was bubbling up in her chest and fixed him with a pointed look.

  “What did he mean? What don’t I know?”

  “A lot, honey.” Ethan shook his head, deflated. “And I want to tell you all of it, but there’s not much time right now. We need to leave before… We need to leave.”

  “You owe me an explanation.”

  “Oh, Sage, I know.” Sorrow twisted his features as he took a step closer. “I owe you so much more than that.”

  Sage blinked, unable to stop staring at him—unable to stop the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. Her resolve crumbled. “This is real? You’re not about to disappear, and I’m not dreaming or dead or—”

  He wrapped her in his arms, squeezing her so tightly she could barely breathe. “It’s real. I’m real,” he whispered, stroking her hair as he held her in his arms.

  She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his closeness wash over her for a moment. But questions quickly flooded her mind, and she forced herself to push back against him. She ran the back of her hand against her cheeks, wiping away wetness. Her brow furrowed.

  “Is—”

  “Your mother’s alive too.” He swallowed. A shiny film covered his eyes as he looked at her. He tried blinking it back a few times, unsuccessful with each attempt. “And she can’t wait to see you.”

  Sage’s shoulders sagged in relief. Her parents were alive. Both of them. And after all these years, she was going to see them again. It was more than she ever could have hoped for.

  All the happy thoughts she’d just allowed to start surfacing vanished the next instant as the building trembled violently beneath their feet, throwing them apart. One of the lights fell from the ceiling, shattering into a thousand pieces as it crashed to the floor. Ethan fell and Sage stumbled sideways, catching herself on a jagged edge of the broken glass wall.

  “Rox,” Ethan swore, picking himself up quickly.

  She frowned at the fresh blood that started to swell over her palm. She shook out her fingers, smearing a crimson stain on her pants. “The Rogues must’ve been following Dred’s orders still. They’ve been destroying buildings all morning. It’s my fault.”

  “That’s not what that was.” Ethan’s jaw tightened. “It was a warning shot.” He grabbed Sage’s hand, quickly dragging her into the hallway past the rows of unconscious guards. “We have to get out. There isn’t much time.”

  She wrenched her hand from his, stopping in her tracks.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened. You were dead.”

  “We never actually died, Sage.”

  He blew out a breath in exasperation at the determined expression she wore. “You know what forged bracelets are capable of. They thought we were dead—they’d even started—” he almost choked on the words, “—they were cutting the baby out of your mother to save it because they thought she was dead. That nearly killed her. It would’ve if the Bennicks hadn’t gotten us out of there.”

  Sage paled. “Is the ba—”

  “I promise I’ll answer all your questions later,” he said sharply, reaching for her hand again, “but we need to go now or there won’t be a later.”

  This time, she relented, following closely as he raced through the building. “What do you mean? Why don’t you think it’s the Rogues?”

  “Charles set up a failsafe before he joined us.”

  “Charles—Mr. Bennick? He’s still alive?” She gaped at her father.

  Ethan winced, nodding.

  A sinking feeling came over her as she processed the rest of what he’d just said. “What failsafe?”

  “A series of explosions designed to take down every major government building in Eprah—and their surroundings,” he said grimly. “We told him not to, but I should’ve known with how stubborn he is…” he trailed off, shooting a sideways look at his daughter as they raced through the halls. “He wanted to make sure that he could take the Quorum down once and for all no matter what.”

  She threw open the door to the stairs. “Can’t we just tell him Mr. Gaztok’s dead?”

  “If only it were that simple.” Ethan’s jaw clenched as they rushed down the steps. “Once it’s been activated, there’s no way to stop it remotely. It’s an on-site manual override only, and he made sure there wasn’t much lead time.”

  Sage froze on the landing between floors. Ethan managed to stop his momentum only a few steps past her. He looked back at her, frustration mounting.

  “Come on, Sage. We don’t have time to—”

  “Every major government building?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Her face was white. “And the sublevels?”

  “Yes.” He nodded, reaching for her hand.

  She jerked back. “Weston’s down there. In a cell.” Panic consumed her. She bolted forward again, not waiting for her father. “We have to get him out.”

  “Sage, you can’t—”

  “I’m not leaving without him,” she called back over her shoulder, picking up speed.

  “No, I mean you can’t.”

  “Why not?” she snapped, not slowing down as her feet skimmed over the steps.

  “There isn’t enough time.” There was a franticness in Ethan’s tone. “Even if you could make it down there, you wouldn’t make it back.”

  A sick horror bubbled up in her chest as her legs pumped faster. “I can’t just let him die!”

  Footsteps continued pounding down the stairs behind her, but Ethan was otherwise silent. Surprised by his lack of response, Sage spared another look over her shoulder just in time to see him frowning in concentration, one hand over his ear as he kept pace only two steps behind her. The color drained from his face, and his expression twisted into one of absolute mortification.

  Sage’s stomach clenched. In that moment, she realized two things: One, her father was in contact with someone else, most likely another Lawless. And two, he’d somehow just received even worse news than a building being brought down around them.

  She didn’t have to wonder what it could be for long. He dropped his hand back to his side, and his eyes flicked to hers, locking on tight with a heart-wrenching agony surfacing behind them.

  “What is it?”

  “Charles set charges in all the government buildings. All of them. Including the Institution.”

  “He—” A wave of nausea swept through Sage’s body, weakening her knees. She faltered on the next step, barely managing to catch herself before falling down the rest of the flight. All those kids.

  “They won’t all go off at once—he set it up to start at the center of the city and work its way out—but they’ll need help evacuating. I have to—”
<
br />   Sage’s feet smacked solidly on the main floor landing. She pushed open the door to the lobby, gesturing. “Go.”

  His jaw clenched. “You need to get out too.”

  “I will. After,” she said firmly.

  Ethan hesitated, torn. “Someone’s on their way to the manual override, but they might not get there in time. And I can’t promise it’ll work.”

  “It’ll work. I didn’t find you again just to lose you.”

  He forced a tight smile, pulling her into a quick embrace. “You’re the one I’m worried about,” he whispered against her hair, then pushed back and looked at her somberly. “I don’t care if you have to leave him behind. You do whatever you have to do to get out before this building falls, understood?”

  She wasn’t about to leave Weston behind. Without him, she’d have been dead a long time ago. But she didn’t get the impression her father would accept that answer.

  “Yeah. Got it.”

  The lie slipped out easily, but years of practice didn’t make it less painful to deceive the man who’d raised her.

  Furrowing his brow, Ethan paused in the doorway a moment longer to study her. “No,” he said finally, almost to himself. He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the lobby with him. “I’m not risking it.”

  18. UNLOCKED

  Ethan held her arm in a vise grip, roughly shouldering his way through the crowd. By the time the two of them reached the lobby, the rest of the Cabinet workers had decided evacuation was the smart route. Apparently, explosions in the city and the broadcasted death of the final Quorum member were an unsettling combination—especially when the tremors escalated to their own building.

  Unfortunately, Cabinet workers were nowhere near as militantly organized as the Peace, and here, their evacuation bore more than a little resemblance to complete chaos.

  “Let me go!” Sage tried unsuccessfully to wrestle herself free from her father’s grasp.

  “Not ‘til you’re safe.”

  “I have to get Weston,” she insisted, squirming forcibly behind him.

  “He knew the cost.” Ethan set his teeth on edge. “We all did.”

  “He saved my life.”

  “All the more reason to leave while you can. He’d want you to get out too.”

  She dug her heels into the floor and raised her voice so she could be heard clearly over the crowd. “But I love him!”

  Her father glanced back at her, eyes wide with surprise. His grip loosened for a fraction of a second, and that was all she needed to finally rip herself from his hold, backpedaling quickly.

  He tried to move toward her and grab her again, but the crowd thickened between them, pushing them apart.

  “Sage!” Desperation filled his voice.

  “Go!” she shouted.

  Squeezing her eyes shut so she didn’t have to see the panic on his face, she turned and bolted toward the back exit. It was muffled by the crowd, but she heard him call out her name one more time. She ignored it, hoping he wouldn’t come after her. No matter what her father wanted, she needed to find Weston. Fast.

  Slamming through a confused herd of Cabinet workers, Sage took a few hits to her shoulders and midsection that nearly knocked all the wind from her chest. She gulped in air greedily as she stumbled out the door.

  Her best bet would be to use one of the tunnels to get under the Peace. She swung her head from side to side, looking for an entrance, then raced toward the nearest one she saw.

  No one was shouting her name. No footsteps came rushing toward her. She hoped that meant her father wasn’t following her—that he’d left and gone on ahead to help evacuate the Institution. If Weston’s life weren’t at stake, that was what she’d be doing too. But his life was in danger, and she wasn’t about to let him die in a cell—even if the present danger was his own father’s fault.

  Sage lowered herself a little too fast into the tunnel, skipping most of the rungs and rolling as she hit the ground. Fire shot up her shins, slowing her down.

  Rox.

  Grunting, she gathered her strength and pushed herself forward through the pain, sprinting in the direction she remembered the Dungeon to be in. She’d have to keep an eye out for one of the less obscure entrances that she’d passed earlier with Clarette and hope that the guards had already had enough sense of self-preservation to leave. It would definitely complicate things if she had to fight her way in.

  Her feet pounded loudly against the slab beneath her. There wasn’t time for caution or quiet. Not with the buildings above her due to collapse at any moment.

  It didn’t take long to realize the tunnels were deserted. Or for her to realize exactly how alone she was. As if the echo of her footsteps around her weren’t enough, she was suddenly all too aware of the fact that—other than her recently resurrected father—no one else even knew she was down there. If she failed getting Weston out, they’d both die, and no one would know or care.

  She swallowed hard, burying those thoughts in the back of her mind as her legs pumped faster beneath her. The main entry was getting closer. She’d get to him in time, and they’d make it out. There was no other option.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she rounded the corner and saw three officers running straight toward her. The one in the center would reach her first. She gritted her teeth and refused to slow down. She wasn’t going to make it easy for them to capture her.

  As they neared her, she balled up her fists, ready to fight. But apart from a few annoyed glances and a quick sidestep as they passed, none of the officers paid any attention to her. Clearly, they would rather ignore her unauthorized presence than get caught in the impending blast. Whoever’s orders they’d been following before, self-preservation was calling the shots now.

  When Sage reached the Dungeon entrance a few minutes later, hope bubbled up in her chest. She wouldn’t have to waste time hacking through layers of coded tech. The tremors must have disrupted the prison’s foundation, wedging the outer doors permanently open.

  And she wouldn’t have to fight her way in either. By all appearances, the guards had abandoned their posts. No one else was crazy enough to stick around—let alone run toward danger.

  Tugging on one of the doors, she grunted as she braced herself against the frame, struggling to gain enough leverage to pry it open farther. It jerked a few inches before sticking again—not quite enough to slip through but enough to fit half her upper body inside the small opening. She threw her shoulder against it, and the door flew open two more feet, burying itself deep in the newly uneven floor. She wasn’t going to be able to move it again, but that didn’t matter. There was enough space now for a grown man to fit through it.

  Panting heavily as she raced inside, she kept an eye out for any lingering guards. She hadn’t seen any since her near-miss in the tunnels, but she could’ve sworn she heard footsteps and voices echoing through the corridors now. It was only a matter of time before she had to deal with the blind loyalty of whatever officers still guarded the Dungeon.

  Barreling around the corner, she smacked into a solid body and tumbled to the floor, clutching her shoulder in pain. She jumped up, quickly assuming a defensive stance as she sized up the man she’d just collided with. She took a step back, hesitating. With unkempt facial hair and a ratty jumpsuit, he looked more like a prisoner than a guard.

  Whipping her head side to side, she quickly realized they weren’t alone—and that the man in front of her wasn’t the only prisoner out of his cell. In fact, this hallway was devoid of guards but filled with about a dozen prisoners, all heading toward the exit. The tremors must have knocked several doors out of alignment, freeing them.

  Her heart pounded faster in her chest as she took off running again in the direction of Weston’s cell. His door might already be open. That is, if it was still his cell. Mr. Gaztok might easily have ordered him to be moved to a different location upon his return to prison.

  Panic wound itself tightly around her throat, making it harder and harder to bre
athe. If Weston wasn’t there, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Even if his door was wedged open like the ones at the entrance, she couldn’t just assume he was safe. Given Mr. Gaztok’s twisted sense of justice, she should probably count on him being in a different room—or even a different level altogether.

  Her legs grew heavier beneath her body as her earlier spark of hope drained away. Searching through every cell would take too much time. Neither of them would make it out—unless Weston was already out and on his way to safety. And if that was the case, she’d waste the little time she had remaining. She’d be burned or buried alive, leaving Weston alone. Either way, their future together was looking more impossible with every passing moment.

  She choked back tears as she forced herself to keep moving forward. All of this was still speculation, she reminded herself. Weston’s cell was coming up soon. She’d know more in a minute, then she could make a logical decision—one free of the emotion welling up inside her.

  Her feet slapped against the concrete, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Weston’s cell. The door was cracked open, but it wasn’t stuck in the floor like the door at the main entry had been. Tendrils of dread wrapped around her chest, squeezing tighter as she pushed the door open the rest of the way.

  Empty.

  Sage took a few steps inside the cell, unable to accept what she was seeing. Her breath started coming in short, shallow bursts. Weston wasn’t there.

  Whirling around, she darted back toward the door without thinking. She had to check the lower level, search each cell. Some of the doors were probably open already anyway—she might not have to hack each lock.

  Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe she’d find him fast.

  Shoving aside her doubts, she flew down the nearest set of stairs and started working her way down the lower hall. The next three doors were open just like Weston’s cell had been—not jammed into the ground, just slightly ajar and easily nudged open, no palm print or hacking required.

  She frowned as she made her way to the next cell. Something wasn’t adding up. The earlier explosion had sent out tremors that could break open doors, yes, but nothing about it should have deactivated a bunch of locks.