by Aimee Carter
“I’m not going with you.”
“Yes, you are.” Her fingers wrapped around my wrist, as if chaining herself to me. I shook my head.
“I have to take care of something. I’ll be along as soon as it’s over.”
“Kitty—”
“If you want to keep me safe, then you’ll take that rifle, and you’ll make sure the people in the tunnel get to safety,” I said. “There’s a boy, Benjy—the one in the cage with me. He’s bringing up the rear. Tell him Kitty said to trust you.”
Her blue eyes watered, and she stared at me. “I won’t be able to live with myself if anything happens to you.”
“And I won’t be able to live with myself if anything happens to you or Benjy. Now, please—before they figure out you’re gone.”
Hannah’s mouth formed a thin line, and she caught me in another hug. “Don’t you dare die before I get the chance to know you,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I’ll do my best,” I promised, but that was all I could manage right now.
At last she released me and headed toward the cellar without another word. Once I was sure she was gone, I crept into the foyer and pushed open the front door, my weapon drawn. I had no plan and no idea what was out there—but Benjy and I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Scotia, and if there was anything I could do to help her, I owed her that much.
Even from the porch, I could see a crowd gathered on the street in front of Mercer Manor. Taking a breath, I sneaked down the steps and toward a nearby tree. Tracks zigzagged across the snow, and I was careful to step in them, not leaving any trace I was there.
“This is what rebellion looks like!” Mercer’s voice cut through the cold air, and I peered around the massive tree trunk. From my vantage point, I spotted Mercer standing on a makeshift platform in front of the gate, surrounded by a small army of guards. And in front of them—
My stomach dropped. A dozen men and women dressed in jumpsuits knelt in the slush, each blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs. I scanned them, looking for any familiar features. My gaze fell on the figure kneeling in front of Mercer. She raised her chin in defiance, and even from a distance, her sleek ponytail was unmistakable.
Scotia.
A strange buzzing rang in my ears, growing louder as the seconds ticked by, and my head pounded. This couldn’t be happening. I had to do something.
“Countless are dead because of you,” said Mercer, and while his voice carried through the street, he looked down at Scotia. I tried to map out a path closer to the gate, but it was all open space. “The snow is red with innocent blood, and now we have no choice but to punish the entire section, all because you decided to have a little fun. You were never going to win.” He gestured to the sky. “I have the might of the American government behind me, and all you have are a few criminals, bastards, and useless invalids.”
The buzzing grew louder, and I looked up through the branches. Helicopters. My heart sank. No matter how many weapons the Blackcoats had, there was no way they would be able to fight off the entire military. And there was no way I could sneak across the open lawn without someone seeing me before I had a chance to help. But there had to be a way—there had to be.
Despite everything, Scotia held her head high. She was blindfolded like the others, but she seemed to be staring straight at Mercer. “I would rather die beside my people than live with yours.”
He scoffed. “As you wish. I hope it was worth it.”
“It was,” she said. “And I’d do it all again for a chance to kill you.”
“Unfortunately you’ll never have that opportunity. Enjoy hell.”
“I’ll see you there,” said Scotia.
Before I could move, before I could think, Mercer pressed the barrel of a gun against her forehead, and he pulled the trigger.
A shot rang out, and she crumpled to the ground. I swallowed a scream. A chorus of gunshots followed, and the other prisoners joined her one by one, until none were left.
The buzzing of helicopters grew louder, the wind whipping up a frenzy by now, and my chest tightened. Mercer kicked Scotia’s body hard enough for the crack of bone to echo over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, and bile rose in my throat.
“Round up the others,” he called. “Search the bunks, the buildings, the dining hall—everywhere they could possibly hide, and don’t come back until you’ve found—”
A shout of alarm cut off Mercer’s speech. The sound of unrelenting gunfire rang in my ears, close enough to turn the ache in my head into a roar, and suddenly a spray of bullets rained down upon the platform. The guards standing with Mercer collapsed in one fell swoop, and Mercer threw himself off the platform, into the small space beside the gate.
I gasped and crouched down beside the tree. The branches waved as if we were in the middle of a hurricane, and they parted enough for me to see more than a dozen black helicopters hovering above us in the cloudy sky. Like the first, each bore the Prime Minister’s seal, but they continued to shoot into the crowd of guards, mowing them down unmercifully. It wasn’t the military after all.
The Blackcoats had arrived.
I hid behind the tree, not daring to step out into the open. Several men shouted, and one by one, soldiers dressed in black dropped to the ground, carrying weapons that made the guards’ rifles look like toys. Some lingered, but most headed off down the streets and away from the manor, and I briefly considered darting back inside. Before I could move, however, I spotted a familiar figure in the middle of a group of soldiers, the silver lining in his uniform making him stand out.
Knox. He’d come back after all.
I opened my mouth to call out to him, but instead a movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Only twenty feet from where I stood, Mercer climbed up the hill toward the house, limping and holding his stomach.
I crouched down again and watched him pass. No doubt where he was going this time—the tunnel was his only way out. A potential ambush there was better than an absolute death here, and as he slipped inside Mercer Manor, I gathered my courage and raced after him.
Part of me expected gunshots to follow my path, but either no one in the sky saw me, or they didn’t care. I skidded into the foyer, gun drawn and ready to shoot, but once again, it was empty.
Inwardly I cursed. Where—
“We need backup.” Mercer’s voice, laced with desperation and hysteria, filtered toward me from his office. “The rebels hijacked the helicopters and raided the armory. Elsewhere is falling. I repeat, Elsewhere is falling.”
I pushed open the door with my foot. He stood at his desk, hunched over a monitor. Minister Bradley looked back at him, his bushy mustache hiding his mouth from view.
“We’re sending troops to assist you,” he assured him, but Mercer wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Instead we stared at each other, his eyes locked on mine.
“Make it the entire army,” said Mercer in a deadened tone. He switched off the monitor and straightened as much as his injuries would allow. The middle of his white uniform was stained scarlet with his own blood, and he held his hand to his stomach as if he were holding his innards in place. For all I knew, he was.
“Put your weapon on the desk, and walk toward me slowly,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. Through some small miracle, my hand didn’t shake.
Mercer did as I said, setting a handgun on the desk before limping toward me. Despite his injuries, he never winced or took his eyes off me, and I didn’t dare look away.
“My brother warned me about underestimating you,” he said. “I was a fool not to listen to him.”
“A dead fool,” I said, and he chuckled.
“If you were going to kill me, you already would have, sweetheart. Which makes me wonder exactly what you plan on doing with me.”
“Hold
ing you here until the Blackcoats arrive,” I said. “They can decide whether you live or die.”
“Lucky me.” His dark eyes glittered with amusement. “I’ve always hoped my executioner was a coward. It makes this so much easier.”
“I’m not a—” I began, but before I could finish, he lurched forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun and pushing it away from him. In my surprise, I pulled the trigger, and plaster dust exploded from the ceiling.
Mercer wrestled the weapon away from me and shoved me to the floor, and I landed hard on my back, all the air leaving my lungs. He stood above me, still holding in his organs as a maniacal smile danced across his face.
“I would say that this is going to be harder on me than it is on you, but that would be a lie,” he murmured, pointing the gun Scotia had given me straight at my head. I fumbled for the one I’d stolen from the guard, but in the scuffle, it had fallen out of my pocket and lay at Mercer’s feet. Perfect.
“You don’t have to kill me,” I said, swallowing my fear. This was the risk I’d taken, and it was worth it when it meant Benjy and Hannah and all those kids might live because of me. But it didn’t stop the terror of the unknown from infiltrating every corner of my being until I was frozen, unable to tear my stare away from his. “I’d make a good hostage. My life for yours—it’s a fair trade. The Blackcoats would take it.”
He snorted with laughter. “Are you still telling yourself that lie, sweetheart?”
“What lie?” My mouth went dry.
“The one where you really believe you’re Lila Hart.”
So he knew, then. In the few seconds of silence between us, I debated my options. I could admit it and point out that I was still valuable to the Blackcoats, or I could deny it and hope to hell it was enough to plant a seed of doubt.
Before I could say anything, however, he leaned over, and a trickle of blood from his abdomen dripped onto my shirt. “The Prime Minister told me everything. I know exactly who you are, Kitty Doe, and I know exactly what you’re worth to me. Nothing.”
“She means something to me,” said a voice, and my heart leaped. Hannah.
I craned my neck. She stood in the stretch of foyer between Mercer’s office and the cellar door, holding the guard’s rifle. Her swollen eye was purple now, but her other was wide-open and focused directly on Mercer.
He chuckled again, but there was a hint of nervousness in it. His grip shifted on the gun, and he set his finger on the trigger. “Hannah, my darling, don’t be silly. We both know you would never—”
The gunshot was so loud that for a moment, I went deaf. Above me, a tiny red hole blossomed in the middle of Mercer’s forehead, in the exact spot where he’d shot Scotia. His body went slack, and I rolled out of the way in time for him to come crashing down on the marble floor, close enough for me to feel the heat from his body.
His eyes stared at me, lifeless and empty, with his last unspoken word still on his lips. I stared back, too stunned to waste any witty remarks on a corpse.
“Come on,” said Hannah, and she was at my side in an instant, helping me to my feet. “We need to get out of here before the rebels find us.”
“No.” I stood, my legs trembling underneath me as adrenaline rushed through my system. Everything seemed brighter, and my pulse raced so fast that I thought my chest would burst. “I need to stay here. Knox and the Blackcoats—”
“They’ll kill us,” she said, and I shook my head.
“I’m one of them. They won’t hurt me.” But Hannah wouldn’t be so lucky. I glanced at the cellar door. “If they see you here—”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” She leaned the rifle against the staircase and sat down in the center of the marble floor. “If you’re staying, so am I.”
I hesitated. The only way to guarantee her safety was to be there when the Blackcoats found her and tell them exactly what she’d done. At least this way she would have a fighting chance.
“Okay.” I tossed the remaining syringes aside and sat down beside her. “Thank you. For—” I swallowed hard and stared at the floor. I couldn’t say the words.
“He stopped meaning anything to me the minute he hurt you,” she said quietly, lacing her fingers through mine. “I’m just sorry I didn’t do it before.”
The image of Scotia and her smirk flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help but feel the same way. “Still. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Hannah, and together we sat on the cold marble floor, waiting for the Blackcoats to find us.
XVII
VOICE
Fifteen minutes later, a group of soldiers flooded the entryway of Mercer Manor, guns drawn. For one terrifying moment, as the leader shoved the barrel of a high-powered assault weapon in my face, I thought they were going to shoot us.
“We’re unarmed,” I said, holding up my uninjured hand. “And we’re on your side.”
The leader eyed me with a spark of recognition. “Search them,” he called, and two men stepped forward as the others fanned out inside the manor. While Hannah bowed her head, I held mine high, looking the leader in the eye. Instead of focusing on me, his gaze drifted over to Hannah.
“Ah, a Mercer. Just what we’ve been looking for.” He gestured to the soldier searching her. “Bring her to the holding facility.”
“No,” I said, and fear shot through me. I struggled to stand, but the second soldier held me down. “She saved my life. She killed Mercer—”
“She’s still a criminal,” said the leader, and Hannah stumbled across the marble floor, turning enough to look at me.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Look after yourself.”
“Hannah—no—let her go!” I shrieked, but another soldier joined the first, and together they pinned me to the ground as the others led her out the door.
“We’re not monsters,” said the leader, peering down at me. “We won’t hurt her until we receive our orders.”
“I’m telling you to let her go,” I spat. “Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly who I am.”
“I do, and I also know you’re not authorized to give those kinds of orders, Miss Hart.”
I scowled. “I want to talk to Knox Creed.”
“He might be a bit busy right now—”
“Then I’ll wait.”
The leader stared at me, and I refused to avert my gaze. At last he mumbled something into his sleeve, and another half dozen guards joined us, surrounding me while the others searched the manor. I couldn’t tell if they were protecting me or holding me captive, but either way, at least they weren’t Mercer’s men.
As soon as the leader called the all-clear, the soldiers pulled me to my feet. “Take her upstairs,” he said. “Creed’s orders. Be gentle.”
“What?” I struggled against the hands that held me in place. “Where is he? I need to talk to him.”
“He’ll be by as soon as he can,” said the leader. “In the meantime, take her upstairs.”
No amount of fighting, kicking, screaming, or biting made the soldiers release me, although I found some amount of dark satisfaction when it took four of them to carry me to the Augusta Suite. As soon as they deposited me on the bed, they filed out, locking the door behind them.
I scrambled across the room and banged on the door. “Let me out!” I yelled. “Please—I need to talk to Knox!”
But no matter how loudly I screamed or how hard I pounded on that door, no one answered. Eventually, after what must have been an hour, I stumbled to the bed and collapsed, burying my face in one of the pink pillows and struggling not to cry.
If anything happened to Hannah, I would kill Knox. And this time I meant it.
I didn’t know how long it took me to fall asleep in that pink-and-gold canopy bed. Minutes, maybe—or hours, or maybe I never really fell aslee
p at all. Vaguely, as I drifted on the edge of consciousness, I felt cool hands touch my temples, and a flash of bright light appeared in my eyes. Distantly I heard the low murmur of two men speaking, and while I could have sworn one sounded like Knox, when I finally managed to open my eyes, they were gone.
The next time I awoke, weak early morning light filtered through the stained-glass window, giving everything in the room a strange shimmering feel. I groaned as I tried to move, but something heavy weighed me down.
“Get off me,” I mumbled, not yet entirely conscious. Instead, the weight only grew worse, and something shifted on the mattress beside me.
“Five more minutes,” mumbled a voice into my ear, and my heart nearly stopped. Benjy.
With more energy than I thought I had left in me, I rolled over. He lay beside me, his eyes closed and his red hair sticking up all over the place. His freckled face was scrubbed clean, and he wore a fresh change of clothes that looked a size too big for him. But he could have been caked in mud and smelled like a sewer, and I would have been just as elated to see him.
“Okay,” I said, snuggling up against him. “Five more minutes.”
He kissed my forehead and cracked open an eye. “I’m still mad at you, you know. You swore you wouldn’t leave.”
“I’m here now.” I nuzzled his collarbone and inhaled his scent. “I’m sorry.”
Benjy sighed and ran his fingers through my matted, dirty hair. “Me, too,” he whispered. Together we closed our eyes, and surrounded by his warmth, I fell asleep once more.
The Battle of Elsewhere raged on for two more days. Booms rattled Mercer Manor on the hour for thirty hours straight, and as I curled up with Benjy in the darkness, sometimes I wondered if we were already dead.
The door to the Augusta Suite unlocked three times a day for meals, and once for a doctor to check on me. “You’re healing well,” she told me as she dosed me with another painkiller, and by the time she slipped out the door, I was already asleep.
I dreamed of war. I dreamed of bullets and blood and never-ending gunfire, and when I woke up, there was no relief. Benjy remained with me every moment, talking to me and whispering stories in my ear through the worst of it, and in the middle of the night, we clung to one another, both of us knowing that no matter how often Knox promised to keep us safe, some things were beyond his control.
