Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(19)

“What does Crow know about my relationships with Hawthorne and Clifton?”

“Everything.” Ransom’s mouth curves in a dismal frown.

“I have to warn them.” I rub my temples, hoping to jar my memory, but there’s nothing. “What have I been doing for the past month?”

He reaches out and touches my arm in a placating way, like he’s done it a thousand times—and maybe he has. I’ve been his experiment for weeks. His expression is sympathetic, though. “You’ve done what you’ve been ordered to do. You were too weak to resist. No one can blame you . . .”

Alarm rages inside me. “Ransom . . . have I—have I hurt people?”

His palm cups my elbow. “It’s not your fault that Agent Crow used you.” His expression beseeches me. “You couldn’t stop him. You were like an infant. You just needed time—and still do. You have to look at the long game.”

I yank my arm away. “Who have I hurt?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the endgame.”

I can’t catch my breath. Violent tremors weaken my knees. Light-headedness accompanies the cold rush of fear, but unlike every other time this has happened to me, I don’t completely lose it. Something inside me is different. After the wave of crippling anxiety washes over me, a second, calming wave comes close behind it—like my brain’s awash with dopamine.

Ransom reaches for me again. I shrug off his hand and turn to grip the metal railing with both of mine to steady myself. The steel bar dents from the pressure of my fingers. I swing up onto the metal ledge and poise on its edge. My leg muscles twitch. I look down.

The fall should kill me beyond repair.

I feel relief. I teeter on the edge, leaning forward just enough to maintain my balance.

“Don’t do it!” Ransom begs.

I glance at him. “I don’t know what I’ve done, or who I’ve slaughtered for them, but if you won’t tell me, then it’s probably pretty bad.” I clutch my chest above my heart. The ache is something I can’t ease. I feel dirty, used. I need this to end.

“Wait!” Ransom pleads. “You’ve awakened, Roselle! You’re not theirs anymore! Now we make a plan that eradicates Census from existence. I can’t do it alone. I need you! I need your help!”

I hesitate. Something in his voice stops me from taking the final step. It had the same note of desperation mine had when Balmora walked off the wall of her Sea Fortress and plummeted to her death. I think for a moment about what she did then, and what I’m prepared to do here. She thought she had nothing left to live for anymore. That’s not why I’d do this. Unlike Balmora’s, my death would prevent Census from using me as a weapon, but I do have something to live for—I have vengeance. The need for revenge burns me to my very marrow. Agent Crow doesn’t get to exploit me and go free—he doesn’t get to win.

The decision to remain—to fight—is more complicated than just revenge. I carry a desperate ache to see Reykin again, to play out the dream I had of being in his arms. He represents home to me. When did he become so vital? I can’t imagine being happy without him. He’s the real reason I’ll stay.

“Ransom,” I say, not looking at him. “If your theory doesn’t work out and I’m their assassin, I need you to find a way to make sure I never hurt anyone again.”

“I will,” he replies without a second of hesitation.

“And if we do this, we never stop until every Census agent is dead and Spectrum’s destroyed.”

“I promise.”

I look up from the levels below me and meet his eyes. “Then let’s begin.”





Chapter 4

Containment

Violent judders rattle through the airship’s hold.

Sounds of thunder echo. None of the soldiers inside the capsules near us awaken. Moments before, I’d climbed off the catwalk railing overlooking the hold. If I hadn’t, I might have fallen to my death. My eyes dart to Ransom’s. He clutches the railing with his long fingers. He swallows hard.

“Where are we now?” I ask. “In what Fate?”

Ransom consults his moniker, anxiety etching lines around his clean-shaven mouth. “We just crossed over into the Fate of Swords. We’re passing above the Brontide Ridge.”

“We’ll be in Forge in two hours—maybe less, depending on our airspeed.”

He tries to disguise a shudder.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

An uncertain frown deepens the creases around his mouth. “No—not really. First off, you nearly jumped. Everything I’ve been working for would’ve gone with you. Second, the airship just shook like it’s going to fall out of the sky. Third, they’ll be mobilizing all the Black-Os shortly. I’m not even sure you can pass for one now. Fourth, I’m in Swords—a place I’ve never been. I know the Census Base in Seas. I know parts of the Fate of Stars. I don’t know this place. And fifth, there’s also that little nagging fear I have that Agent Crow will recognize me as Reykin’s brother at any moment.” Sweat drips from the hairline by his temple. I can relate—fear has been my life lately.

“We won’t crash,” I explain, attempting to calm Ransom. “I’ve been on worse flights. Cold wind slams hard against a large airship like this one, but it isn’t enough to cause a significant drop in altitude. It’ll be okay. It was probably just a wicked west wind off the mountains.” Then I lean closer, like I’m telling him a secret. “As the story goes, Tyburn, the Warrior-God of the West Wind, froze the sea when Hyperion, the God of Water, raised it against him, forming the Brontide Mountains. The peaks resemble cresting waves. That noise you heard—the one that sounded like distant thunder—was tectonic plates beneath the mountains shifting. That’s what makes the rumble.”