Rebel (Legend, #4)(81)

When I trail off, Dominic Hann studies my face carefully. “But he sided with the AIS, didn’t he?”

I look up to meet his eyes. They’re still studying me, and I wonder if I remind him of his son right now. “They’re trying to lure you out with a deal,” I say. “They might even have broadcasted it by now—that they’re willing to meet you somewhere and negotiate a truce, in exchange for you disabling your system.”

I’m not sure whether Daniel and June have already made their move, but when a glimmer of recognition appears in Hann’s gaze, I get my confirmation.

“They’re setting up a trap for you,” I go on, my words speeding up in my urgency. “So I came here to tell you that, as a gesture of goodwill. I can give you the details of what they’re planning as far as their operations go.”

“A gesture of goodwill.” Hann is still watching me with that lethal stare, and a shiver runs through me. He doesn’t look convinced.

I glance at Pressa, and on cue, she pulls out the glass vials that she’d carefully packed for us. “My name is Pressa,” she says, slightly bashful. “I was the one who had the counterfeit money at the drone race.”

Hann nods once at her. “I remember you,” he replies.

Pressa’s voice is small but clear, more secure than mine, and I find myself admiring her calmness. “Eden told me about your condition, so I got these from the apothecary where my father used to work.”

“Used to?” Hann raises an eyebrow at her.

Pressa trembles for a moment. Hann sees it, and to my surprise, sympathy flickers in his eyes at her. “I’m sorry,” Hann says to her, gently now.

In spite of everything, I can feel Pressa want to take his pity. Is that what I look like when I feel drawn in by Hann’s charisma too? My anger flares suddenly. Mr. Yu had suffered under the Level system, but he’d died because Hann had caused this chaos in the Undercity.

Hann may be a father figure, a man with a painful past. But he’s also a master manipulator.

Pressa doesn’t answer Hann’s words. She tightens her lips instead and holds up the vials. “This is a serum that’s supposed to ease the symptoms of your lung infection. I used to make it for my father, when he was suffering from his condition. It’s not a cure. But it’s the next best thing.”

Hann doesn’t seem to expect this. His eyes widen slightly, and he blinks once. He glances at me before returning his focus on Pressa. “And why would you offer that?” he says.

His piercing stare doesn’t faze her. Pressa lifts her chin. “I spent a lot of years helping my dad run our apothecary. His failing health was the reason I started gambling in the drone races in the first place. I know what it’s like to struggle like you did. And while I don’t agree with your plans, I do believe in your cause. So here we are, helping you out. The question is, will you return the favor?”

Whatever hesitation Pressa might have had earlier, I see none of it in her response. She’s cool and calm. It’s as if this reminder of the death of her father has given her new strength.

Hann doesn’t move, but I can tell that Pressa’s boldness has brushed past some vulnerability hidden in him, however small. His eyes linger on the vials. I might be promising him my skill set—but Pressa is promising him his life back.

Hann frowns at me. “You think this is enough to bring you both into my fold,” he says. “You dare to dangle my own life in front of me?”

Maybe we’ve stepped too far; maybe we’ve overreached. The fear coursing through me starts to make way for anger. “Fine,” I snap. “You want to know the real reason why we’re here—why we’re offering all this? It’s because I’m sick to death of watching both you and the Antarctican government play your games with the Undercity, while the people there are the ones who suffer from your antics. I’ve had it. You’ve seen the riots, haven’t you? I watched Pressa’s apothecary get destroyed and her father … There’s nothing left of it. She had to flee. Is that what you’re fighting for? Is that you championing the rights of the lower classes—turning their home into a battleground? We’re here right now, offering all we got, because I can’t stand watching you do this for another second. Stop hurting the people you claim to be helping. Stop all this—and I swear I’ll serve you however you need. I’ll help you build a system that upends everything Antarctica had. Whatever you want. Just put an end to all this.”

When I finally stop, I realize that I’m shaking. My words must have come out convincing. Even though everything spilled out in a mess, and all I remember is a blur, I can still hear the anger in my voice ringing in the air.

Hann is quiet. His face is serious now, his eyes thoughtful.

Pressa speaks up now, in her clear, steady voice. “You may think you’re taking a huge risk, putting your trust in us like this. But we’re risking everything here too. Our friendships. The people we love. Our lives.”

I don’t know what Hann might be thinking. He might kill us on the spot now, furious with us for having brought his personal problems into this. Or he might toy with us, capture me to use me again as his pawn. Or maybe, maybe, we’ve managed to strike him in just the right way.

Hann takes a few more steps toward us. His head is bent down, as if in deep thought. He stops right in front of us.