Queen (The Blackcoat Rebellion #3)(26)

“You report to Knox, I report to Celia.”

I made a face and sat up. “I do not report to Knox. I don’t report to anyone.”

“My mistake, Miss Hart.”

Collapsing back on the couch, I huffed. “Doe. My last name’s Doe.” It was the same last name given to all the Extras and orphans in my group home, though now that I knew who my biological parents were, I supposed my last name really was Hart. Or would be, if I decided to take it.

That was a decision best left for another time, when the entire war wasn’t riding on me bypassing Goulding and retrieving the file. I eventually curled up on my side, facing away from him, and forced my breathing to remain steady, hoping if he thought I was asleep, he would slip away. No such luck. He couldn’t stand guard over me indefinitely, though. Eventually he would have to use the bathroom, or his shift would end, and he would go home to his wife and unborn baby. Nothing lasted forever, although by the time he finally did move, it felt like hours had passed.

“What?” A crackle of static burst through the silence of the room, and I twisted around. Goulding pressed his earpiece and ducked his head, as if that would stop me from hearing everything he said. “In broad daylight? How longdo we have?”

Suddenly an earsplitting siren began to wail, and I jumped off the sofa and pulled my boots back on, fear coursing through me. “What the hell’s going on?”

“You need to come with me,” said Goulding, and he crossed the room before I could tie my laces. Taking my elbow, he half guided, half dragged me to the door and shoved it open.

“You need to tell me exactly what’s going on,” I said, trying to yank my arm from him. His grip tightened, and we darted down the hallway toward the stairwell.

“Somerset is under attack. The government is retaliat—”

Suddenly a deafening blast ripped through the manor, and the ceiling gave way, raining fiery debris over us. A block of cement landed squarely on my foot, and I yelped as I felt the bones snap. Goulding shoved me back toward Knox’s suite, and I took off running as fast as I could, doing my best to ignore the pain.

I shouted Goulding’s name as I ran, but if I had any voice, the ringing in my ears drowned it out. When I reached Knox’s door, I pushed it open and whirled around, ready to grab Goulding and pull him in.

But he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere, and the ceiling in the hallway had caved in completely, leaving a mountain of burning rubble exactly where Goulding had stood.

My stomach lurched with shock and fear and grief for his poor wife and baby, but there was no time to be sick. Instead I burst into Knox’s suite and climbed into the vent, my pulse racing, my hands sweaty, and my foot throbbing. Any second, another bomb could drop and kill me instantly, and no one would know until they found my body days or weeks or even months later. But I had to get that file. The outcome of the entire war depended on it.

Time seemed to alternate between standing still and jumping forward, leaving me with holes in my memory. One moment, I was crawling through the vents, and the next, I stood on a bookcase in the drawing room, rooting around thevent for the loose sheet of metal that had cut me four times before I’d learned to avoid it. I wasn’t sure what had caused it, exactly, but it allowed for a thin space between the vent and the ceiling, perfect for stashing thefile.

At last my fingers brushed the edges of the folder and, with effort, I managed to coax it out from its hiding place. I flipped it open and hastily skimmed through it. I couldn’t read the official documents, but they all seemedto be there, along with the single picture of Victor Mercer. No one had found it. No one had stolen the crucial information we would need to expose him, and we finally had a shot at winning this war.

Shouts rose from the atrium just outside the drawing room, and I ducked, clutching the folder to my chest. My hearing was still iffy at best, but I could make out the words over the hum.

“Fan out!” barked a man. “The Prime Minister wants his sister and the leaders alive, but kill any other rebel on sight.”

Terrific. I hauled myself back into the vents and scrambled back to the residential wing, my injured foot protesting with every shake and jolt. If I could make it to Knox’s room, I could reach the passageway that connected to the tunnel. It was my only chance of getting out of here.

Silently I hoped that Knox had somehow managed to escape. Fighting was useless. It would only get more people killed, but Celia was undoubtedly too stubborn to give in. She’d fight to the death, I was sure of it. I could only pray she didn’t take Knox down with her.

Time did that funny jump thing again. Maybe it was the adrenaline and fear, or maybe I’d hit my head and hadn’t noticed. Either way, before I knew it, I dropped into Knox’s room, landing hard on his desk. Another bone in my foot snapped, and I cried out, balancing on the other one instead.

Somehow, miracle of all miracles, Knox was there, and he wrapped his arms firmly around me and helped me to the ground. Dust streaked his face, and there was a shallow cut below his eye, but he was there. He was okay. “What happened, Kitty?”

“Goulding—Goulding is dead, and there are armed soldiers heading our way,” I said through gritted teeth. I could feel a sharp edge of bone tearing at my skin, trying to slide out. “I have the file.”

“Figured that was where you were,” said Knox, but he couldn’t hide the naked relief on his face. “I’m getting you out of here.”