Archenemies (Renegades #2)(114)

Nova spun the bracelet on her wrist. “I’m well aware of that, Honey. They took everything from me, too.”

“That’s right. They did.” Honey lowered the glasses to the tip of her nose, her smoky gaze burning into Nova. “They can offer you notoriety and a fancy pair of boots. They might even give you pretty gems like that bauble on your wrist.”

Nova’s heart lurched and her hand automatically clapped over the hidden star.

Honey chuckled. “I noticed it when you were trying on dresses earlier. You think I could have missed it?”

“It’s nothing,” said Nova.

“I don’t care what it is. My point, Nova, is that the Renegades can offer you a lot, but they can never offer you revenge.”

“Your Majesty,” said Leroy, with more than a tinge of irony, “have you forgotten that all of this is Nightmare’s doing? Her reconnaissance, her plan. She’s risking her life for this mission.”

Honey smiled sweetly. “I haven’t forgotten, Cyanide. I just want to ensure that she doesn’t forget, either.”

“I won’t,” said Nova through gritted teeth.

“Good.” Honey cupped Nova’s cheek in one hand, and it took all her willpower not to recoil from the touch. “Make us proud.” Pulling her hand away, she tucked Nova’s wristband into her dress and sauntered away into the night.

Nova swallowed, hard. Though the star on her wrist was weightless, she felt its presence like a ball and chain.

Leroy scrutinized her. “Nova, are you—”

“Fine,” she spat. Without looking at him, she yanked open the door to the car. “I’m ready. Let’s bring them down.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

LEROY PULLED INTO A SPACE in an empty parking garage one block from headquarters. They had hardly spoken for the duration of the ride.

“Pop the trunk,” said Nova, relieved to stumble out of the passenger door.

“When did you become so bossy?” Leroy teased. “This little group doesn’t need two Queen Bees, you know.”

Nova said nothing. She wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

Her shoes echoed on the concrete as she rounded the back of the sports car. In the shadows, she saw a familiar black jacket, her beloved weaponry belt, and on top of the pile—a metal mask, curved to the shape of her face.

Reaching behind her neck, she pulled down the zipper on the dress. She wriggled out of it, then stepped into her dark pants and pulled on the tank top and jacket, the mask, and finally the gloves that she had designed herself. It was always a little disconcerting putting them on and cutting off the most convenient source of her power—if she ran into trouble, she would want her fingers free—but she would need the gloves tonight.

The clothes felt confining compared to the Renegade uniform she’d gotten used to, but once the ensemble was complete, Nova felt … strong. Powerful. Almost invincible.

No more convoluted loyalties. No more uncertain agendas. No more secrets, no more lies.

She was an Anarchist—a villain, if that’s what it made her.

She was Nightmare.

She slammed the trunk shut. “Give me one hour,” she called to Leroy. “Drive around until then, just in case we were followed.”

“Do you think I’m an amateur?” Cyanide smirked, one elbow hanging out of the window. “I’ll be here.”

Nova waited until he sped away, tires squealing through the garage. She tugged down her sleeve to make sure the star was covered again, and then she ran.

She stayed in the shadows and the stairwells, checking around every corner, confirming that the streets were clear, the alleys empty. Soon she was standing outside a little-used back entrance to Renegade Headquarters, where deliveries were made and foreign dignitaries were brought inside when they were worried the tourists and journalists would make too much fuss over them. There was a security camera two stories up, but it was angled at the doorway—the building’s most vulnerable entrance.

Nova would not be going in through any doors.

She lurked beside a dumpster long enough to be sure no one had seen her approach, then tilted her head up and assessed the climb. The sides of the building were smooth, but there were enough ledges around the windows that she would have footholds when necessary.

It would be difficult to scale, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

She pressed the switch on the back of the gloves, sending a jolt of electricity through the material. Suction cups emerged on her palms and fingertips. Nova reached overhead and pressed her hand against the building’s side. The gloves took her weight and she started to climb.

As she passed the third story, the fourth, the tenth, the buildings around her began to drop away. She scanned their rooftops and water towers and began to feel exposed, but she knew, logically, that she had little to worry about. The funny thing about living in a city full of skyscrapers was that no one ever looked up.

Besides, the sense of vulnerability was something she’d begun to get used to. Nova had been paranoid from the moment she’d stepped foot into the arena for the Renegade trials. She had been painfully aware of the narrow ledge she was teetering on from the start.

There was a part of her—possibly a big part—that felt more relieved than anxious as she reached the twenty-sixth floor, the first of many that remained unused, and only one floor up from the security offices. No matter what happened here tonight, she would no longer have to lie.