by Kiera Cass
My chest swelled with pride. That was my Aspen, always trying to fix things.
Maxon nodded at him before turning back to August. “That’s something I’ll need time to think about. I might be able to provide training, but I couldn’t arm you. Even if I was sure of your intentions, if there’s any link between us, I can’t imagine what my father would do.”
Without thinking, Maxon flexed the muscles across his back. It seemed to me that maybe he’d done that a lot in the time I’d known him, only I hadn’t understood its meaning. Even now he was hyperaware of his secret.
“True. In fact, you should probably already be leaving. I’ll get word to you as soon as we have more information, but for now it looks good. Well, as good as we could hope for.” August passed Maxon a note. “We have one landline. You can call if there’s something urgent. Micah here, he’s on top of those things.”
August motioned to the boy who hadn’t made a sound the whole time. He pulled his lips into his mouth like he might be biting them and gave us a small nod. Something about his stance suggested he was both shy and eager at once.
“Very good. I’ll use it with discretion.” Maxon placed the paper in his pocket. “I’ll be in touch soon.” He stood and I followed suit, looking over at Georgia as I did so.
She came around the table to me. “Be safe getting back. And that number is for you, too, you know.”
“Thank you.” I gave her a quick hug and headed out with Maxon, Aspen, and Officer Avery. I took one last glance at our strange friends before the door closed and was bolted behind us.
“Get away from the truck,” Aspen said. I turned to see what he meant, as we weren’t even close yet.
Then I saw that Aspen wasn’t talking to me. A handful of men were circling the vehicle. One had a wrench in his hands, looking as if he was about to try and steal the tires. Another two were at the back, trying to open the metal doors.
“Just give us the food, and we’ll go,” one said. He looked younger than most of the others, maybe Aspen’s age. His voice was cold and desperate.
I hadn’t noticed back at the palace that the truck we were jumping into had a massive Illéa emblem on the side. As I stood there looking at the small crowd of haggard men, this seemed like an incredibly stupid oversight. And while Maxon and I weren’t dressed like ourselves, that wouldn’t help very much if anyone got too close. Even though I wouldn’t have known the first thing to do with one, I wished I had a weapon.
“There is no food,” Aspen said calmly. “And if there was, it wouldn’t be yours to take.”
“How well they train their puppets,” another man remarked. As he gave us an amused smile, I could see that a few of his teeth were missing. “What were you before they turned you into this?”
“Step away from the truck,” Aspen ordered.
“You couldn’t have been a Two or a Three; you’d have bought your way out. So come on, little man, what were you?” the toothless man taunted, stepping closer.
“Back. Away.” Aspen put one hand in front of himself, reaching down toward his hip with the other.
The man stopped, shaking his head. “You don’t know who you’re messing with, boy.”
“Wait!” someone said. “That’s her. That’s one of the girls.”
I turned my head to the voice, giving myself away.
“Get her!” the young one said.
Before I could even think, Maxon jerked me back. I saw a blur of Aspen and Officer Avery pulling out their guns as my head got whipped around by the force of Maxon’s strong arms. I was moving sideways, stumbling to keep up while Aspen and Avery held the men at bay. Quickly, Maxon and I were against the brick wall, trapped.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Aspen said. “Leave. Now!”
The toothless man chuckled darkly, his hands raised in front of him as if he meant no harm. In a move so fast I nearly missed it, he reached down and drew a gun of his own. Aspen fired, and shots came in return.
“Come on, America,” Maxon said urgently.
Come where? I thought, my heart pounding in terror.
I looked at him and saw that he had laced his fingers together, making a cradle for my foot. Suddenly understanding, I put my shoe in his hands, and he pushed me up as I grappled at the wall for some stability. I reached the top, and I felt something funny in my arm as I crawled over.
I ignored it as I pulled my body across the ledge, lowering myself as much as I could before dropping to the concrete. I fell to the side, positive I’d messed up my hip or leg; but Maxon had instructed me to run if I was in danger, so I did.
I didn’t know why I assumed he would be right behind me, but when I reached the end of the street and he wasn’t there, I realized no one would be free to give him a boost. In that moment, I noticed that funny feeling in my arm was starting to burn. I looked down, and in the faint glow of a streetlight, I saw something wet coming from a rip in my sleeve.
I’d been shot.
I’d been shot?
There were guns and I was there, but it didn’t seem real. Still, there was no denying the searing pain that was growing bigger every second. I cupped my hand over the wound, but that made it worse.
I looked around. The city was still.
Of course it was. We were out well after curfew. I’d gotten so used to the palace that I’d forgotten that the world outside stopped after eleven.
If an officer came by, I’d be thrown in jail. How was I supposed to explain that to the king? How are you going to talk away a bullet wound, America?
I started moving, staying to the shadows. I had no idea where to go. I didn’t know if trying to get back to the palace was a good idea. Even if it was, I didn’t know how to get there.
God, the burning. It was hard to think. I made my way past a narrow backstreet between two apartment buildings. That alone told me I wasn’t in the best part of town. Generally, only Sixes and Sevens had to squeeze into apartments.
There was nowhere for me to go, so I walked down the poorly lit alley, tucking myself behind a tight pack of trash cans. The night was cool, but it had been a typical hot Angeles day, and the stink was rising from the metal bins. Between the smell and the pain, I felt myself on the edge of vomiting.
I peeled off my right sleeve, trying not to irritate the wound any more than necessary. My hands were trembling, either from fear or adrenaline, and just bending my arm made me want to scream. I bit my lips together to keep the sound in, but even with that my muffled whimpers escaped into the night.
“What happened?” a tiny voice asked.
I jerked my head up, looking for the source. There were two glittering eyes in the darker depths of the alley.
“Who’s there?” I asked, voice trembling.
“I won’t hurt you,” she said, crawling out. “I’m having a bad night, too.”
The girl, maybe fifteen if I had to guess, crept out of the shadows and came to look at my arm. She sucked in a breath at the sight.
“That looks really painful,” she said sympathetically.
“I got shot,” I blurted, ready to cry. It burned so badly.
“Shot?”
I nodded.
She looked at me hesitantly, like maybe she should run away. “I don’t know what you did or who you are, but you don’t mess with rebels, okay?”
“Huh?”
“I haven’t been out here long, but I know that the only people who can get guns are rebels. Whatever you did to them, don’t do it again.”
In all the times they’d attacked us, I’d never considered that. No one was supposed to have a gun unless they were an officer. Only a rebel would be able to get around that. Even August had just said the Northerners were essentially unarmed. I wondered if he’d been carrying tonight.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “I know you’re a girl under there.”
“Mer,” I said.
“I’m Paige. Looks like you’re new to being an Eight yourself. Your clothes are pretty clean.” S
he was turning my arm gently, looking at the oozing wound as if she could do something even though we both knew better.
“Something like that,” I hedged.
“You can starve out here if you’re alone. You got anywhere to go?”
I shuddered with a roll of pain. “Not exactly.”
She nodded. “It was just my dad and me. I was a Four. We had a restaurant, but my grandma had made some rule that he was supposed to leave it to my aunt when he died, not to me. I think she was worried my aunt wouldn’t have anything or something like that. Well, my aunt hates me, always has. She got the restaurant, but she got me, too. Didn’t like that.
“Two weeks after Dad died, she started hitting me. I had to sneak food because she said I was getting fat and wouldn’t give me anything to eat. I thought about going to a friend’s house, but my aunt would just be able to come and get me, so I left. I took some money, but not enough. Even if it was, I got robbed my second night out here.”
I looked Paige over as she talked. I could see it, under the growing layer of grime. There was a girl in there who used to be very well taken care of. She was trying to be tough now. She had to be. What else was there for her?
“Just this week I found a group of girls. We work together and share all the profits. If you can forget what you’re doing, it’s not so bad. I have to cry afterward. That’s why I was hiding back there. If the other girls see you cry, they make my aunt look like a saint. J. J. says they’re just trying to toughen me up and that I better get that way fast, but it still hurts.
“Anyway, you’re pretty. I know they’d be glad to have you.”
My stomach rolled, processing her offer. In what seemed like a few weeks, she’d lost her family, her home, and herself.
And still she was sitting in front of me—a girl who’d been chased by a pack of rebels, a girl who could be nothing but danger—and she was kind.
“We can’t get you a doctor, but there would be something to ease the pain. And they could get you some stitches from this guy they know. You’d have to work it off though.”
I focused on my breathing. Even though she was distracting, the conversation couldn’t stop the pain.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Paige asked.
“Not when I’ve been shot.”
She laughed, and the ease of it made me laugh a little, too. Paige sat down beside me for a little while, and I was glad I wasn’t alone.
“If you don’t want to come with me, I get it. It’s dangerous and kind of sad.”
“I . . . can we just be quiet for a minute?” I asked.
“Yes. Do you want me to stay with you?”
“Please.”
And she did. Without question, she sat beside me, as silent as a mouse. It felt like an eternity was passing, though it couldn’t have even been twenty minutes. The pain was becoming more severe, and I was getting desperate. Maybe I could get to a doctor. Of course, I’d have to find one. The palace would pay for it, but I had no clue how to get ahold of Maxon.
Was Maxon even okay? Was Aspen?
They were outnumbered, but they were armed. If the rebels recognized me so quickly, did they recognize Maxon, too? If so, what would they do to him?
I sat still, trying to talk myself out of the worry. It was all I could do to focus on myself. But what was I going to do if Aspen died? Or if Maxon—
“Shh!” I ordered, though Paige still hadn’t made a sound. “Do you hear that?”
We both tuned our ears to the street.
“. . . Max,” someone yelled. “Come out, Mer; it’s Max.”
That would have been Aspen’s idea, no doubt, using those names.
I scrambled to my feet and went to the edge of the alley, with Paige right behind me. I saw the truck coming down the street at a snail’s pace, heads poking out of the windows, searching.
I turned around. “Paige, would you want to come with me?”
“Where?”
“I promise you, you’ll have a real job and food, and no one will hit you.”
Her heavy eyes filled with tears. “Then I don’t care where it is. I’ll go.”
I took her with my good hand, my coat sleeve still hanging off the wounded arm. We made our way down the road, sticking close to the buildings.
“Max!” I called as we got closer. “Max!”
The massive truck skidded to a stop, and Maxon, Aspen, and Officer Avery came running out.
I dropped Paige’s hand, seeing Maxon’s open arms. He embraced me, hitting my wound, and I yelled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I was shot.”
Aspen parted us, grabbing my arm to see for himself. “That could have been a lot worse. We need to get you back and find a way to treat you. I’m assuming we’ll want to leave the doctor out of this?” He looked to Maxon.
“I don’t want her to suffer,” he insisted.
“Your Majesty,” Paige said, dropping to her knees. Her shoulders started shaking like she might be crying.
“This is Paige,” I said, offering nothing else. “Let’s get in the back.”
Aspen lowered a hand to Paige. “You’re safe,” he assured her.
Maxon put an arm around me, escorting me to the back of the truck.
“I was sure it would take all night to find you,” he worried aloud.
“Me, too. But I was in too much pain to get very far. Paige helped.”
“Then she’ll be taken care of, I promise.”
Maxon, Paige, and I crawled into the back of the truck, and the metal floor was strangely comforting as we sped back to the palace.
CHAPTER 14
IT WAS ASPEN WHO LIFTED me from the back of the truck and hurriedly carried me to a tiny room. The space was smaller than my bathroom and held two slim beds and a dresser. There were little notes and photos on the wall, which gave it some personality; but it was otherwise barren, not to mention incredibly cramped with Aspen, me, Officer Avery, Maxon, and Paige filling every spare inch.
Aspen laid me on a bed as gently as possible, but my arm continued to throb.
“We ought to get the doctor,” he said. But I could tell he doubted his own words. Getting Dr. Ashlar would mean either telling the absolute truth or making up an outrageous lie, and neither of those options was something we wanted.
“Don’t,” I urged weakly. “I won’t die from this. It’ll just be a bad scar. We have to clean it up.” I grimaced.
“You’ll need something for the pain,” Maxon added.
“She might get infected. That alley was really dirty, and I touched her,” Paige said guiltily.
A sliver of fire burned across the wound, and I hissed. “Anne. Get Anne.”
“Who?” Maxon asked.
“Her head maid,” Aspen explained. “Avery, get Anne and a medical kit. We’ll have to make due. And we need to do something with her,” he added, nodding his head at Paige.
I watched Maxon’s worried eyes finally move from my bloody arm to Paige’s troubled face.
“Are you a criminal? A runaway?” he asked her.
“Not that kind of criminal. And I did run away, but there’s no one looking for me.”
Maxon considered her words. “Welcome aboard. Follow Avery down to the kitchens and tell a Mallory you’ll be working with her on the prince’s command. Instruct her to come to the officers’ wing immediately.”
“Mallory. Yes, Your Majesty.” Paige gave him a deep curtsy and followed Officer Avery from the room, leaving me alone with Maxon and Aspen. I’d been with both of them all night, but this was the first time it was just the three of us. I could feel the weight of our secrets filling up the already restricting room.
“How’d you make it out?” I asked.
“August, Georgia, and Micah heard the gunshots and came running,” Maxon said. “He wasn’t kidding when he said they’d never hurt us.” He paused, his eyes quickly distant and sad. “Micah didn’t make it.”
I turned my head away. I didn�
�t know a thing about him, but he died tonight for us. I felt as guilty as if I’d taken his life myself.
I went to wipe a tear away, forgetting to use my left arm, and cried out.
“Calm down, America,” Aspen said, forgetting to be formal.
“Everything’s going to work out,” Maxon promised.
I nodded, pursing my lips together to avoid crying anymore. What a waste.
We were quiet for what felt like a long time, but maybe it was the pain stretching out the minutes.
“It’s wonderful to have such devotion,” Maxon said suddenly.
At first I thought he was talking about Micah again. But Aspen and I looked over and saw him gazing at a space on the wall behind me.
I turned my head, happy to focus on anything that wasn’t the searing pain in my arm. There, beside several pictures drawn by one of his younger siblings, was a note.
I’ll always love you. I’ll wait for you forever. I’m with you, no matter what.
My handwriting was a little sloppier a year ago when I’d left that note by my window for Aspen to find, and it was surrounded by silly little hearts that I would never put in a love letter now, but I could still feel the importance of those words. It was the first time I’d put them in writing, afraid of how much more I felt those things once they were on paper. I also remembered the fear of my mother finding that note surpassing any other worry about the enormity of knowing, without a doubt, that I loved Aspen.
Right now I feared Maxon recognizing my handwriting.
“It must be nice to have someone to write to. I’ve never had the luxury of love letters,” Maxon said, a sad smile on his face. “Has she kept her word?”
Aspen was moving pillows from the other bed to prop under my head, avoiding eye contact with either Maxon or myself.
“Writing is difficult,” he said. “But I do know she’s with me, no matter what. I don’t doubt it.”
I looked at Aspen’s short, dark hair—the only part of him I could really see—and I felt a new pain. In a way he was right. We would never truly leave each other. But . . . the words on that paper? That encompassing love that used to overwhelm me? It wasn’t here anymore.
