Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next day, I sit cross-legged in the Oracle and wait for Wren.
There was a note shoved under my door this morning, asking me to meet him here. I haven’t seen him since he attacked Landry.
Outside, the sun is shining behind me, its rays too bright for my eyes. The sky overhead is a brilliant blue, and the tree leaves flutter lazily in the hot breeze. I can see the heat; I can hear it buzzing.
I let my eyes close, let my mind drift away and into nothingness. I feel myself running north—
“You lied to me.”
My eyes open, and my stomach muscles draw my spine straight. He moves into my field of vision, but he doesn’t sit and he doesn’t smile. His right fist hangs at eye level in front of me, and I see purple scabs beginning to form over nickel-sized wounds.
“Wren…”
“You told me you didn’t know who it was.” His voice is tight, and his eyes are hard. “Again and again, you swore you didn’t see.”
“Yeah, okay, I get it,” I say. “I lied. Can we drop it?” I don’t want to fight with him. But I don’t feel bad for lying.
He crouches in front of me, and we are separated by only inches. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
I exhale. “I didn’t tell you the truth so you wouldn’t do exactly what you did. Is he even still alive?”
“Who gives a shit?” he growls. “Since when does someone like you give a shit about someone like Landry, after what he did? Since when does someone like you protect her attackers like a—”
“I wasn’t trying to protect them,” I say, and my voice is loud, but it wavers. It isn’t strong right now. My eyes cast down. “I wasn’t trying to protect them.”
“So what was it?”
My gaze skirts around him, to the blowing leaves. To the mounds of ragged rock in the distance that glint majestically in the sunlight. “I didn’t want you to be sent out there.”
“Why?” His voice is dismissive. “That’s where you want to go.”
“Yeah, I do, Wren. I do. But you don’t. So…I guess I was trying to make sure that didn’t happen.”
His eyes are still hard, but he sits now; his muscles relax. “You don’t need to protect me, Eve. Not from anything, and especially not from that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on. You know how this shithole compound works by now. Use your head.”
I take a deep breath. “You wouldn’t be sent out? Even if you killed him. Even if you killed the pair of them. You’re a Preme; you wouldn’t be punished.”
“I’m not just a Preme, Eve. I’m a well-connected one, so yes, you’re right—I wouldn’t be sent out there to burn.”
I shake my head. How can the rules only apply to some? Injustice pinches my stomach. I glare at him and cross my arms, but even as I do, I know it isn’t his fault. “I’m still glad I did what I did,” I say after a minute of silence passes between us.
“You’re glad you lied to me.”
“Yeah, I am. I did the right thing, Wren. Had I told you, I know what you would have done. You would have killed both of them before I could stop it, right? And yes, you wouldn’t be punished for it, but you’d become a killer. On my watch. You think I want that?”
He leans forward and drops his voice. His eyes reduce down to slits. “But you’re willing to become one yourself? Who’ve you decided on? Because I just got word that Landry’s going to pull through, so he’s up for the taking if you decide to pass on Daniel.”
I am still. I don’t even breathe. “How do you know?”
“If I were you, I’d set my sights on Daniel,” he continues. “Landry’s already paid for his sins, so it’s time to share the fun around, don’t you think?”
“Tell me how you know.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Eve. I could see it in your eyes in the cafeteria. I put two and two together, just like you did. So”—he shrugs—“you have a way out. Kill someone, and you get to die yourself. Congratulations.”
“Is this why you asked me to meet you? So you could make me feel like crap?”
“Tell me how I’m wrong.”
I shrug. “You’re not wrong. Aside from the me dying part, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Only you’re not a murderer.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you wouldn’t let me kill Landry. Because you’re honorable, because you’re good.”
After a nervous laugh, I stretch out my hand, curl it around his. “You’re overestimating my goodness. I need to go, and nothing is going to stand in my way. Especially not ending a life that doesn’t deserve to live.”
“I could make things better for you, you know. Here, in Compound Eleven. A job, for instance. I could get you a job on one of the higher floors. And goods, anything you need.”
“Goods?”
“Premes don’t receive allotments like downstairs. If we need anything, if we want anything, it’s ours. I can make it yours.”
I stare at him.
“And I could get rid of both of them,” he continues. “Daniel and Landry. Their friend, too. And anyone else who bothers you.”
I resist the urge to shiver at his words. At his influence, his power. Instead I turn his hand over and run my fingers along the damaged skin. “You would do all that for me?”
“To get you to stay? I would do anything.”
I blink back a million tears that threaten to burst their way into the world. I blink them back and away because I need to stay strong.
“I’ve already decided. There’s no going back on it. Not now, not ever.”
He leans forward and kisses me on the lips, and part of me aches to stay with him. To never let him go. The thought of saying a final goodbye is almost too much for me to bear. Almost.
He pulls away and sighs. “I just wish I met you before you made up your mind.”
Suddenly, I wish that, too.
A moment later, he gives me a funny look. “Did I hear you say that you don’t plan on dying out there?”
“Not so much.”
“Care to elaborate?”
I laugh a little. My mother’s song echoes through my head. But all I say is, “You know by now I’m a survivor. Ask a different question.”
He grins. Then a loud hum from the middle of the Oracle draws both our attention, and when I glance at him, I see he is already jumping to his feet.
“We have to go now.”
The elevator. And since it only runs from the fifth floor, we have seconds before we are spotted. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the sunlit space in the direction of the trapdoor.
The elevator clicks into position, and I hear the doors slide open.
“Space is the issue,” comes a woman’s voice, and I recognize it as Wren’s mother’s.
“Is it, Cynthia? It sounds to me like we have much bigger issues on our hands than space alone.”
“If the solution is another fleet of panels,” she snaps, and I hear the clicking of her high heels, “then space is indeed the first issue we must tackle.”
“Jump,” Wren growls in my ear.
I do as he says and collapse a second later on the floor below. It knocks the wind from me, and I can’t breathe; I can only watch as he silently pulls the door shut, then jumps from the top of the ladder next to me. He lands more gracefully than I did and moves quickly to the edge of the room, where he snaps off the lights. “We have to go,” he says through the darkness.
He grabs me under the shoulders and pulls me easily toward the door; then, I hear the trapdoor open, and light pierces the small space. I draw my boots quickly to my chest and away from the center of the room. We are frozen, neither of us so much as breathing.
“See anything?”
&n
bsp; There is a heavy pause, and then…
“Nothing. Must’ve been the wind.” The trapdoor slams shut, and we are in blackness once more.
“You okay?” His voice sounds stern, and as I catch my breath, a bubble of laughter escapes, and then another. Finally, I can’t hold it in any longer and I must press my hand to my mouth to try to silence it. My shoulders shake, and my stomach hurts from the effort.
“Come on,” he says finally, and I can hear in his voice that he has been laughing as well. He lifts me with too much ease into the hallway, where the walls glow white around us.
There is blood on my shirt, I notice, and I see that Wren’s knuckles have come apart. I take his hand in mine, my brow knotting as I examine it.
“Really, Eve?”
“What? I don’t want you injured on my account.”
He shakes his head. “Do you remember when we first met? I merely mentioned the fact that your knuckles were bleeding, and you chastised me for it.”
“What, whether you’d ever seen blood before? It was a simple question. There was no chastising involved.” I nudge him in the ribs, our hands still entwined. His hand bleeds onto mine, but I don’t care.
He nudges me back as we walk, and I am laughing again. Then I realize I don’t know where we are or where we’re going. I turn to him. “I’m not exactly allowed to roam free up here, you realize.”
“Relax, Eve. You’re with me.”
So I do relax, because in this moment I am happy. I am happy to have him by my side. I am happy that Landry didn’t die—that Wren didn’t become a murderer on my behalf. And I’m happy we made it safely from the Oracle.
“I can’t believe we almost got caught.”
“Yeah, and by my lovely mother, of all people. God, part of me wishes we didn’t run, just so I could see the look on her face.”
We turn onto a busier corridor, and automatically I pull my hand from Wren’s and jam it into my pocket. Second nature. A moment later, my eyes latch onto two people: one thick with the build of a fighter, the other Addison.
She is staring at me, and by the look on her face, I’m willing to bet she saw his hand in mine, or how close we were walking, or maybe the way we were smiling. I know it shouldn’t make me happy, but it does.
“Haven’t seen you on many of the tours,” says the thick boy to Wren, and he shoves his hands into his trousers and pushes his head back so that he stares down his nose. He doesn’t smile. “Eyeing your mother’s office, then?”
“Like I told Addison, I’m not interested in my mother’s office.”
As Wren talks, I look more closely at his ex-girlfriend. I stare at freshly brushed red hair that reaches to her elbows, and I wonder, aside from her looks, what it was that he saw in her. Maybe it was how composed she is. Competent. Because even though I wish it wasn’t true, she appears to be both those things. The revelation makes me scowl.
“Not paving the way for your friend Long, I hope?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wren’s eyes narrow.
“You know exactly what it means,” the boy snaps. “When are you going to stop dragging him alongside you?” His cold eyes sweep over me, and it looks like he is going to say something more, but he bites his tongue. Whoever he is, he knows not to anger Wren.
Addison, however, clicks her tongue. “Wren,” she interrupts. “Can I see you for a moment?” She nods in the opposite direction.
“No,” Wren replies without hesitation. He turns back to the boy, and my eyes meet hers. She reduces hers down to slits, and they drop to my boots with disdain. Lower-Mean disdain. Half my mouth curls into a smirk. For I might hail from a lower floor, but I am thick with strength, and suddenly I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Try not to worry yourself over him, Strike,” Wren is saying. “After all, he only stole your girlfriend that one time.”
For a second, I think Strike might attack, because his face turns red. But finally his feet draw him away. “Let’s go, Addie,” he says over his shoulder.
But she stays behind. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” she says to Wren, and though her gaze doesn’t shift from his, I can tell she is talking about me. I can see the longing in her eyes, or maybe it’s just my imagination. Then she smooths her skirt like she is agitated. “Are you trying to punish me?”
He shakes his head. “I’m just living my life. Something you should do, too.”
She holds his gaze for a second more, then follows after Strike, her eyes cutting through me as she goes.
His face is emotionless. “Shall we?”
He is already walking, and I have to hurry to catch up. “What was that all about?”
“The fifth floor has more hierarchy than the rest of the compound combined. My friend Long happens to fall low on the ladder. That means his every move is scrutinized by assholes like Strike, who are scared shitless of getting grabbed around the ankle.”
It isn’t what I meant, but I nod anyway. “Where do you fall?” I think I know the answer.
“My mother’s office is a powerful one,” he says.
The admission, though expected, makes my skin prickle. Sure, my blanket hatred for all Premes has proven to be misguided. Amiss. But my hatred for powerful Premes, the ones who run this compound, is perfectly warranted.
He is not his mother’s son, I remind myself. They are different people. They despise each other.
“How come you’re not interested in it?” I ask casually.
He shrugs. “Politics isn’t for me.”
“Because…?”
“Because bullshitting and small talk are two things I’d rather not do.”
“Fair enough.” I couldn’t picture Wren doing either of those things, even if I tried. It is one of the reasons I like him. “So what’s Long’s story? How do you fall low in the Preme hierarchy?”
“He’s what they call illegitimate.” He turns his head to look at me. “His mother is a Preme. His father is an Upper Mean. Long is the product of their brief tryst.”
We walk in silence as his words settle on my brain. They don’t surprise me, but still they sting. It is another reminder that Premes and Means are not meant to mix.
“You weren’t asking about Long, though, were you?” he says eventually.
“No. I was asking about Addison.”
He turns onto a quiet corridor. One side is walled in glass, and through the glass I spot a series of large tables with red felt lining the top. Pool tables, I think they are called, though I have never seen one. But I remember hearing that the Premes play pool. It is more civilized, I suppose, than fighting for sport.
“Well then,” he says, “your guess is as good as mine.”
“Mmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He glances at me over his shoulder. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking who cares about Daniel. Maybe I’ll take her out instead.”
Wren’s eyes narrow, but he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Jealous, Eve?”
“Not at all. Just think maybe the compound would benefit as a whole without her.”
“Uh-huh. There’s the Eve I know. If you’re not threatening my mother—to her face, I might add—you’re thinking about offing my ex. Very interesting.”
I punch him. “Funny. You said the same thing, more or less, about offing Daniel and Landry.”
“Mine’s serious,” he says and punches me back.
“Mine is, too,” I start, but his hands are wrapping around me, shaking me, and I am laughing, and he is, too. His lips are on mine, and I don’t care that we’re in the middle of a Preme hallway under lights so bright they burn my eyes. My hands curl around his waist, and I kiss him, I kiss him, I kiss him.
“We’re not far, you know,” he says between
breaths, and his voice is low and rumbly. It lights a fire in my belly.
“From?”
“My place.”
I smile a little. “Let’s go.”
…
“The lighting is much better in here,” I say as soon as we slip inside his apartment.
“I thought you liked it bright.”
“I’m starting to come around on this dim stuff.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s a little less embarrassing to do this.” My hands grip the bottom of my shirt and pull it over my head.
Wren freezes as he stares at me.
“I was thinking, last time we made out, it really wasn’t fair at all that I got to keep my clothes on.”
He presses his mouth together, and his eyes flash. “Precisely my thinking.” And then his hand grabs mine, and he is pulling me in the direction of the bedroom, and I am laughing uncontrollably the whole way.
“And for the record,” he says into my ear as we collapse into bed, “don’t use the word ‘embarrassing’ in relation to your body ever again. Are we clear?”
My lips find his; my hands run along his back and under his shirt. “Mm-hmm,” I manage to say before his clean, masculine smell overwhelms me. He pulls himself away, but it is only so he can rip his shirt off, and then his skin is against mine, and nothing has ever felt so warm and perfect, and I feel alive in a way I have never really experienced. My heart pushes against my breastbone. Every cell in my body feels electrified.
“God you’re perfect,” he grumbles as he kisses me. I rope my fingers around his neck as his run through my hair, and I feel like I am consuming him and he is consuming me and it is manic and wild and free.
When his lips reach my collarbone, I shiver.
“Everything okay, Eve?”
“No complaints.”
His hands trace their way down my back, and then his fingertips curl around my waist and graze my stomach. Instantly, my muscles tense up; I stiffen. I hope that he doesn’t notice, but he eyes me. Then sighs. “They touched you.”
“It’s okay. Come on, it’s okay.” I push my mouth toward his, but he shakes his head.
Escaping Eleven (Eleven Trilogy) Page 24
