white dawn (Black Tiger Series Book 3)

by Sara Baysinger

  Because as Titus runs—as Titus races through the chaos with Gideon—a black tiger takes notice of him.

  And charges.

  A guttural roar.

  Chills spread across my body while a cold sweat simultaneously breaks out.

  “Open the doors!” Mcallister shouts.

  I expect Summer to refuse. There’s no way Titus will outrun that tiger, and opening the doors gives the tiger access to us. To Summer. I expect her to shake her head, and I prepare myself to open the door myself. But Summer whimpers, her eyes wide with horror at the scene before her, and without hesitation she slams the button and the glass shield slides open just as the tiger swats at Titus’s leg. Titus stumbles forward and falls face-first into the sand, his body curled protectively around Gideon. I bolt into the arena, hardly aware of the screaming chaos in the bleachers or the victims and tigers that are now headed our way.

  With one arm wrapped around his son, Titus inches forward on his elbow, his eyes wide with urgency, but the tiger bites his leg and drags him back. Titus’s face contorts. He grits his teeth and groans in agony, the veins popping out in his neck. I run faster. The tiger might have Titus, but it’ll have to go through me to get to Gideon. A gun would be great right about now.

  The other plagued have taken notice of him and are now bolting this way, the other tigers bounding behind. Titus props himself up and locks eyes with me. And it’s pain and agony and regret and panic flooding his green eyes. He sees me racing toward him and places Gideon on his feet, urging him forward. And I’m acutely reminded of something I’ve read somewhere about someone laying down his life for the world, and how that’s the very definition of love. And I’m shocked, left breathless by the grim, ironic realization: Titus Whitcomb, sadistic chief of Ky, knows how to love someone above himself.

  I reach Gideon, bend down and swoop the screaming toddler in my arms. Tears stream down Gideon’s face, and he arches his back, kicks and screams as I race back through the exit.

  “Rory,” Titus shouts, his knuckles white as his fingers dig into the sand. A few plagued have reached him. They fall into the sand and begin pulling at his clothes, his flesh and he groans through gritted teeth. “Take care…of Gideeeon.” He winces as the tiger bites into his leg again and tries to pull him away from the plagued. “Tell him—tell him I really did love him.” And as though with his last burst of energy, he snaps his head up, his eyes locking with Aurora’s, and I catch another glimpse of the remorse that I’ve never seen in Titus. “And I always…loved you.” The plagued lunge at him, while others begin lurching toward us. Titus’s eyes widen in horror. “Now GO!”

  No need to convince me. The moment the shield slides shut, a few plagued stumble into it, their loud thumping making me realize just how close a call that was. With Gideon in my arms, I whirl around, and we bolt down the corridor. We race through the dark halls until they spit out to the street where the transport is waiting. The transport is a round bubble-like vehicle that’s hovering above the ground.

  Ember stops short. “What on earth—”

  “No time to think,” I say, gesturing for her to leap into the bubble. “We’ve gotta fish or cut bait.”

  We all cram into the bubble, including Summer. The door slides shut, and the bubble rises higher into the air and shoots down the street. Mcallister holds Aurora firmly in his arms, not taking his eyes off her. She doesn’t take her eyes off Gideon, who screams in my arms. I grip his limbs tightly so he doesn’t launch out of my arms. Who would have ever thought a toddler could be so strong?

  “Holy Crawford, Rain,” Ember reprimands as she pries Gideon from my arms. “He’s a child, not a shoddy prisoner. Haven’t you ever held a toddler before?” She wraps Gideon in her arms protectively, gently, and his wails grow quieter.

  “So what next?” Ember asks once Gideon has calmed down some. She looks at Summer. “Will you be joining us in Ky? And what will Prometheus have in mind to get back at us? We ruined his show.”

  I smother a groan. I didn’t think that far ahead. I didn’t consider how Prometheus would want to get revenge.

  Summer offers a sad smile. “I won’t be joining you. If I leave the Nashville cupola, I will age very quickly and there will be no turning back to this wonderful body I have. Same with Prometheus, who is actually in his sixties.”

  Whoa. If he’s in his sixties, that means Summer wouldn’t be in her sixties or eighties. She’d be one hundred-something. The thought is baffling.

  “Wait,” Ember says. “If you’re over one hundred, then you were around when—”

  “The White Plague struck. Yes.” Her blue eyes frost over with something akin to sadness, before she resumes talking. “No one in Nashville, apart from the few children we have, can leave without aging. Despite the threats Prometheus might dispel on the phone when he calls after your escape, he can’t touch you. You and your little country will be completely safe.”

  “What about the ninjas?” I ask. “Someone came and abducted Ember from right under my nose, and brought her here.”

  “Like I said, the younger generations can leave. We don’t distribute the anti-aging serum until age twenty-two. Whoever took Ember was most likely in his late teens or early twenties.” She shrugs. “We can send assassins, but no army.”

  This information is massively relieving. All the threats from Prometheus have been made up, and we totally believed him because he’s from a more advanced country. Because Titus made us fear him. I wonder if Titus even knew this little secret of Prometheus’s. I snort. Highly doubtful. And he paid for his mistake.

  “This transport will drop you off at the city’s gate,” Summer says. “I have it so you can walk out any time in the next thirty minutes, but after that it closes. Do no dilly-dallying, yes?”

  “Definitely no dilly-dallying,” Ember says with a roll of her eyes. “I’m just ready to get the shoddy rot out of here.”

  I grin and squeeze her shoulder. “That’s my girl.” I glance across the space at Aurora. She stares at Gideon, tears streaming down her sand- and blood-coated face. Her shirt and pants are drenched in blood. Scratches mark her ashen cheeks. I never knew anyone could look so happy and simultaneously grieved at once. Is she sad Titus died? How could anyone mourn the death of someone who made their life so miserable?

  I remember how she talked about Young Titus. How he would place his body in front of hers to protect her from their father’s beating. And just now he gave his life for their son. Maybe—just maybe—there was a grain of good in him. And maybe Aurora caught a glimpse of that goodness just before he died. Her eyes slowly close, and her head lulls to one side. Mcallister tenses, then touches her wrist.

  “There’s still a heartbeat, but it’s weak.” He shakes his head too many times and looks at me. And it’s the most despair and fear I’ve ever seen in his black eyes. “We gotta get her home fast, Rain.”

  “I can do that.”

  The bubble lands smoothly on the ground by the base of the cupola.

  “Out,” Summer says. “Hurry. They’re on our tail.” She stares at a screen on the front for the bubble as everyone else files out. I leap out, and when I land on my feet, I can feel the place where the tiger slashed my ankle. I wince against the sting. Ember’s the last to step out, Gideon in her arms. I help her out the door, then Summer steps out and stops her.

  “Let me hug him one more time. Please.”

  Ember hesitates, then allows Summer to take the toddler in her arms. Tears blur her pupils, and I realize she’s giving up what has been like a son to her.

  “It’s for the best, Gideon,” she whispers against his ear as he whimpers. “I’ll never forget you.” She presses her lips against his temple.

  A whirring sounds in the distance, and then bubble-vehicles appear over the buildings and veer through the sky straight toward us.

  Summer shoves Gideon into Ember’s arms. “GO!”

  Gideon stiffens, then arches his back and
wails. I grip Ember’s arm and gently guide her out of the cupola just as the bubbles begin landing. I turn around in time to find Prometheus stepping out of the first bubble and striding straight toward Summer.

  Oh, shoddy rot. I didn’t even think about the price Summer would pay for saving us.

  “In the car!” Mcallister shouts. “Their weapons can still penetrate the shield.”

  Just then, bullets skiff into the ground, though there is no sound. They must have mute guns like Indy. Mcallister maneuvers into the backseat with a passed-out Aurora, and I take the driver’s seat while Ember takes the front. Ignoring Gideon’s wails, I turn on the vehicle and expertly swerve it around, then bolt down the highway while bullets ricochet off our windows.

  We have to save our chief.

  Once again, we’re exodus. We’re escaping the claws of death together, only this time, with Gideon. This time there’s the promise of getting out safely.

  This time, we’re all getting out alive.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  RAIN

  Our return to Ky just before dusk is met with camera crews lining the sidewalk, and smiling faces of the crowd flooding the streets. The crowd is so thick, I can hardly drive through the street. Seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in Ky this happy. Even in Frankfort, people were never this joyous at the return of the chief. Not that Titus ever went anywhere. But even at his feasts and parades, it was more a drunken joy, the empty happiness that comes out of celebrating out of boredom versus celebrating because there’s actually something worthwhile to celebrate.

  News flashes across the Jumboton in the heart of town announcing that everyone in Ky is officially cured, and talking about Titus’s foul leadership and how he had everyone blinded with the way he controlled the Proletariats.

  I wish that were true—that everyone was truly blinded. While the majority of Frankfort didn’t know, a hearty amount of people did. Mostly politicians and their families. But no need to point them out and cause a divide. After all, I was among the few who knew the truth.

  Aurora is ushered to the ambulance. James stays by her side, gripping her hand like a lifeline and warding off any who get too close to her. Best bodyguard ever.

  “Do you think she will be okay?” Ember asks.

  “Mcallister said her wounds were mostly superficial. She passed out from loss of blood.” I look down at Ember. “If he’s right, she should be back to her old self in a few days.”

  She nods and looks back at Mcallister and Aurora as they step into the ambulance. “They’re perfect for each other.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  She laughs a laugh that makes me smile.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask.

  “It’s just, you and Mcallister are the first people I met here in Frankfort.” She turns to face me. “You were both the most heartless jackals I’d ever met, and now…you both put your lives on the line for the second time and spared mine and Aurora’s lives.”

  “Things aren’t always what they seem, little apple picker.” I reach up and push a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought you were some brainless farmer until you opened your mouth on the prison bus. I didn’t realize you were going to change my whole world. I didn’t realize you were going to become my whole world.”

  She snorts. “Cheeesyyy.”

  I narrow my eyes, then wrap my arms around her waist. “Come here,” I growl, burying my face in her neck. She squirms, her giggles filling the air around us. I don’t even care who’s watching. All I can think about is Ember in my arms. My wildfire in December.

  “Ember!” someone calls.

  I straighten, then quickly move away when I see her father, Andrew, approach.

  “Dad!” Ember launches herself into his arms and he embraces her. Elijah races up next and throws himself into the group hug, nearly knocking the trio over. This family. I swear. I have never seen so much love in such a small group of people. Ember reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me into the group hug. Andrew wraps his arm around me, and they’re all laughing and crying at the same time.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Ember asks, when we all finally pull away from each other. She arches a Patrician brow and crosses her arms. “I thought I told you to stay in Indy until the air cleared.”

  “The air is clear,” Andrew says, wiping his eye with his thumb. “Haven’t you heard the news? The diseased are completely cured. The Proletariats aren’t under compulsion anymore. The injured are being treated. And the Patricians are furious at Titus. Thanks to Olivia Doss of all people, everyone wants Chief Aurora back on the throne, but no one’s told them where she went. They think Titus took her, and so naturally strikes started happening. But Walker thought if the Resurgence and we—your family—returned. We thought we could try and tame the crowd a bit.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Temporarily. But they were acting up again today, chanting Aurora’s name and your name, demanding to know what happened to you two. Aurora’s and your return couldn’t have come at a better time. Walker tried to handle things, but with him being a once-rebel, no one wanted to listen to him. Krin was next to try, but that only made them more furious.” Andrew shrugs. “They only want Whitcomb blood in their leader.”

  “Wow.” Ember looks at me. “Imagine what it would look like if we didn’t make it out of there alive.” She shakes her head, then mumbles, “These Patricians have seriously got to learn how to handle these issues like shoddy adults.”

  “What happened?” Andrew asks. “Did you almost die again?” He looks pissed now. Ember gives him the play-by-play, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, reliving the events of the tigers surrounding her and how I almost lost her again. Kissing her head, I release a silent prayer of thanks to the Unseen. God is good. It’s about time he showed up.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  AURORA

  A gentle voice draws me out of a deep sleep. It’s deep and soothing, like cool water on a raw wound. My eyelids feel like sandpaper when I open them, and I squeeze them shut, blink the discomfort away, and try again.

  I’m in the royal hospital wing. The calming voice belongs to Mcallister. Thorne. He sits by my bedside, a toddler on his lap, and reads a story to the child.

  Gideon.

  Hope swells in my chest and I sit up, but then everything stings. The stiff pull of bandages all over my body causes the memory of the arena to crash back into me, and I fall back onto the bed.

  “Easy there, Chief,” Thorne says. I open my eyes to find him studying me with concern. “Your wounds aren’t healed yet.”

  “How long have I been out?” I croak.

  “About twenty-four hours.”

  I lower my gaze to Gideon. He sits comfortably on Thorne’s lap, nestling against Thorne’s torso and gripping his jacket. Thorne grins down at the boy and gestures toward me.

  “This is your mother, Gideon.”

  “Mama?”

  A laugh of relief escapes me. Tears spring to my eyes. I’ve waited so long for this day. I study the toddler in Thorne’s arms. My Gideon. He has my dark hair and Titus’s emerald eyes. A miniature Titus.

  No.

  He’ll never be like Titus. My heart pulls in six different directions as the memory of Titus’s violent death crashes into my memory. He saved Gideon. He gave up his life for our son.

  Take care of Gideon, he’d said. Tell him I really loved him. I remember the remorse shining in Titus-the-Unremorseful’s eyes. I remember the agony, the regret that made his tears fall. And I always loved you.

  Love and loss couldn’t have ever been more simultaneously present in my heart as they are now. The aching pain. The weightless feeling of relief.

  I choose to focus on the joy.

  “Come here,” I whisper. I hold my arms out, but Gideon nestles deeper into Thorne’s embrace. The fear in his eyes pierces my heart. He’s spent more of his life without me than h
e has with me. Of course he doesn’t want to come to me. Gideon has no idea who I am.

  “He’ll warm up to you,” Thorne murmurs as he brushes his fingers through Gideon’s dark hair. “You have the motherly affection that draws children to you.” He winks. “I’d give it a few hours.”

  “What if he doesn’t like life in Ky?”

  “He’s too young to remember life in Nashville.” Thorne’s smile fades. “He’ll forget it soon enough. Besides, considering the atmosphere is polluted with chemicals to keep everyone young, plus whatever else they inject people with, I’m positive he’s better off in Ky. Who wants to stay young forever? I think, whenever he does find out how you rescued him, he’ll thank you for it.”

  I smile at Gideon through my tears. He’s grown so much since he was a baby nursing at my breasts. But since his birth, he’s been the one thing in my life I’ve wanted more than air.

  “I hope you’re right,” I whisper.

  * * *

  Two days pass, and I’m healed enough to maneuver around with minimal pain, thanks to some high-tech drugs from the Indy Tribe. I step out of the hospital wing and into my role as chief.

  After giving the news report on the air, then getting debriefing from Congress, I spend the rest of the evening with Gideon. He’s warmed up to me in the past two days. He clings to my hand, seeks comfort on my lap, just like he did as an infant. We’re reunited in person and in spirit, and my heart couldn’t be more full.

  Tomorrow is my birthday.

  Ember and I will be turning seventeen, which means tomorrow is also when the Coronation Ceremony will take place. It’ll be a huge national event. Not only will it be a crowning ceremony of a new chief, but it’ll also signify the dawning of a new era. But today, the sun is shining, and I want to take advantage of the freedom I never had.