Rebel (Legend, #4)(21)
I scowl at her laughter. Everyone here knows about my past with June, apparently. Who knew a bunch of foreigners were always watching the news about us and fabricating their own ideas about two fugitives on the run?
“Your mind’s playing tricks on you, sweetheart,” I reply, trying to keep my voice nonchalant this time. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Sure, sure.” I can hear Jessan’s smile in her answer. “It’s okay if you’re distracted today, you know.”
“I’m not distracted.”
“Yeah, that’s a convincing statement. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve asked about when the Republic’s going to visit us.”
“Ten minutes, Jess.”
“Right, okay. See you soon. And if you have trouble finding words after you see Miss June Iparis today, just tell us—”
I roll my eyes and hang up the call before Jessan can keep going.
But as I walk alone to the elevators that will take me several floors up and twenty buildings over to where the AIS headquarters are, my thoughts keep wandering to June.
It’s not like she’s here just to see me. She’ll be accompanying her Elector, guarding his safety while he meets with Antarctica’s President. Maybe she won’t care much about whether or not I’m there. All the notice she gave me, after all, was a quick text message several weeks ago to let me know that she’d be in Ross City.
But I don’t care. The image of her lingers in my mind as I step into an elevator. For all that I hate Jessan’s teasing, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about June since I found out she was visiting. My dreams last night were an exhausting blend of nightmares—some about the shadowy Dominic Hann I’ve been pursuing, some about Eden’s safety … and some about June.
Visions of June uninterested in seeing me today. Of her turning away and heading back to the Republic’s plane. Of her being polite and distant. We’ve seen each other only once after a decade apart. What if we’ve changed too much? What if we’re just not meant to be?
* * *
The AIS headquarters is a lavish spread of offices accompanied with a landing pad on its top floor. During my time here, I’ve seen all sorts of world leaders touch down to talk to our President while several of our AIS agent teams follow along.
But this time, June is going to be accompanying the Elector. It leaves me that much more on edge as I head up to the top floor to join the rest of the agents.
Jessan and Lara are already here, out of at least a dozen agents who have gathered into two lines leading up to the landing pad. A series of barricades separate them from the rest of the floor, where a barrage of reporters are already waiting, their cameras clicking away at our agents.
I frown when Jessan gives me a humored smile. At least Lara approaches me with a more serious face. She swipes her fingers through the air, as if downloading something, and then moments later, I get a message from her that pops up in my view.
“We tracked down the rough location of a drone race that happened last night,” she tells me as I fall into place beside them. “It was somewhere in the northeast quadrant of the Undercity.”
I hear an edge to her voice and look up at her. “And?” I ask.
She hesitates. “And,” she replies, “I heard that Dominic Hann himself was spotted at the semifinals yesterday.”
My thoughts waver momentarily from June to Lara’s words. I look sharply at her. “He was there? In person?”
“Apparently. I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t sent some footage.”
She shares another file with me. When I pull it up, I see a video clip set at the start of what definitely looks like a drone race gathering, of someone addressing a young man as Mr. Hann. He greets one of the racers that I can’t make out. I frown as I watch the video again. The man looks just barely older than me, but even with the poor quality of this video, the ripple effect he has on the audience is unmistakable.
I watch the clip again, trying to make out more details of the square’s surroundings. But the video is way too dark and grainy. “No location pinpoint yet on exactly where this happened?”
“No, but we’re checking out the streets to see if we can find something recognizable.”
“Good.” I nod at Lara. “We’ll find our way to the finals tonight,” I tell her.
Our conversation cuts short as a blast of wind hits us from somewhere high above. When I look up, I see a plane materialize through the clouds, lowering itself through Ross City’s biodome to hover over our landing pad. Its tail is painted in streaks of black and red. The Republic’s colors.
The Elector and his team are here. June is here.
All our conversations stop as the elevator to the top floor opens now, and out step President Ikari and his personal bodyguards. He straightens as he walks down the pathway toward our landing pad, a serious smile on his face. Around me, the other agents all stir to attention. I do the same. My heart starts to race. Overhead, the roar of the Republic’s jet engine drowns out all other noise.
I’ve mouthed off at country leaders, blown up airships, and survived being shot—but I’ll tell you this, I’ve still never felt more cracked than I do right now, minutes before the Republic’s Elector touches down. The wind whips my hair back as we wait, until finally the jet rests in the center of the pad’s circle.