Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(44)

She peers at me through eyelashes beaded with her tears, her face red and blotchy. “You can find Ginger? Really?”

Elizabeth stomps over and gets in my face. —This is a watch and observe assignment for you, not a command and do whatever the hell you want.—

I respond. —You are free to make your own choices, just as I’m free to make mine.—

Stiff as a board—har har—she types a message into her keyboard. Probably contacting Meredith. Maybe even Levi. No...chain of command is important in Troika. She’s definitely contacting Meredith.

Any second now, I should receive a message telling me to stand down. Well, I won’t. I absolutely will not! There’s hope in Dior’s eyes for the first time since we arrived. It’s fragile, and it needs tending. Doing anything but what I promised will destroy her, and she might not be able to weld the pieces back together.

My palm glows, and Elizabeth smirks at me.

Meredith has sent me a text. I brace myself to read it...and a fiery lance of shock nearly splits me in two.

Proceed.

Whooo hoooo! Thank you, Granny.

Elizabeth growls as she reads a message of her own, one telling her I can do what I want. “This is why family shouldn’t work together,” she grumbles.

Suck it. “A good plan is a good plan.”

The front door swings open, and a determined Victor enters the farmhouse. “Killian and an ML-in-training found us. They’re just outside our security wall.”

Everything inside me goes haywire. My heartbeat slips out of rhythm. My blood heats, melting my spirit inside my Shell. Different parts of me tremble...all the places Killian has touched... I ache in the most delicious way.

Finally! He is nearby. The boy who 143s me is within reach.

I smooth my hair, my clothing. How do I look? How will he react when he sees me?

Dior pales. Her eyes chill to frostbite-cold.

“How did he get past our guard?” Elizabeth demands. “How did he find us?”

Dior’s fear, maybe? But I doubt she’s in the mood to hear my opinion.

“I don’t know,” Victor replies.

“Let’s go.” She grabs hold of Dior’s arm and pulls her to her feet. “I’m taking you to a new safe house.”

“Stop and think this through.” Victor crosses his arms. “You take Dior away, and the Myriadians will leave. She stays, and we can send Ten out to talk with Killian. For her, he might let good intel slip. Like how he managed to track us. You still want to know, right?”

Elizabeth throws a death-glare at me. “Apparently we’re doing things her way today. If Numbers wants to risk Dior’s safety in order to talk with the guy who will destroy us, she can.”

He high-fives me. “Way to go, Ten. You’re in training, but you’re being trusted to lead. What an honor!”

Stomach cramp. What if this is a test, and I’m failing?

“If you go out there,” Elizabeth tells me, her tone grave, “you will endanger us.”

Dior steps forward, her hands balled into fists. “My fate hangs in the balance. I should be the one to decide.”

Uh, no. That would be a huge mistake. She doesn’t see the whole picture.

Do I? Not even close. Am I allowing my desire to see Killian to direct my actions?

I zip my lips. Testing, one, two, three.

I nod at Dior. She’s right. Her future, her decision.

At first, she says nothing else, and I shift from one booted foot to the other. If she says no...

“You can go out there.” She expels a deep breath. “You do what you promised me. You bring back Gingerbread, alive and well.”

My knees nearly buckle with relief. “I will.”

“You heard her.” A victorious Victor hikes his thumb at the door. “Go out there and get answers, Ten.”

I rush forward, stopping abruptly when Elizabeth grabs my arm. Eyes now resolved, she says, “You’re about to learn the harsh reality of the war between realms, and the betrayal you will always face at the hands of our enemy. Not because you’re facing Killian, but because you’re facing a Myriadian. Good luck.”





chapter ten



* * *



“Action without love is still action.”

—Myriad

I rush out of the farmhouse, certain of only one thing. I don’t believe in luck.

When something good happens, someone has been working behind the scenes to see it through. Luck will not dictate Killian’s treatment of me. His character will.

On the porch, I look past the Buckler—aka jellyair—and search for Killian.

Clay races to my side. “I know what you’re planning, and I’m asking—no, I’m begging you to stay within our Buckler. I’ve been in Troika longer than you. I’ve heard rumors about Killian—”

“I know what you’ve heard. He’s mad and bad to the bone. He wins whatever the cost.” Until me. “He’s changed.”

“No. I mean, yes. I’ve heard those rumors, too. But there are others. New ones.” His tone drips with trepidation. “Worse ones.”

Searching... “I don’t care about gossip. Rumors are a disease, usually started by people with an ax to grind, and they mutate as they spread.”