Rebel (Legend, #4)(87)

I didn’t realize she was dressed in her full uniform. Her eyes are alert, glittering in the night.

“What’s going on?” I say, gradually shaking off my dream’s fog of terror. The room comes into sharper focus. Through the window, I can see the silhouette of Ross City’s outskirts. “Eden—did we hear from him yet?”

June shakes her head, and before she even starts talking, I feel the ominous pit stretch in my stomach. “Nothing. It’s zero-three-hundred hours. He should have responded hours ago.”

No sugarcoating. There’s no use in doing it, and June knows. I fight to keep my fears at bay, but she can see it spilling out onto my expression. I sit up straighter on the couch. “Any signals at all coming from the drone Eden has? Is he still in the same location?”

June looks at me with a grave face. “Daniel, there’s no more location signal.”

No more location signal. It can only mean three things: Eden chose to remove it, for his and Pressa’s safety. The drone itself doesn’t work anymore. Or …

Hann has discovered and disabled it.





EDEN



My mind whirls frantically as the guard motions for us to follow him.

Hann had taken the drone. He must have.

For an instant, I think we’re done. They’ve caught us, and there’s nothing we can do to stop Hann from killing us.

In front of us, the guard gives us an impatient wave of his hand. “Hann’s waiting,” he says.

Pressa glances once at the door and mouths a single word at me. Go.

I don’t know where our surge of courage comes from. Desperation, probably.

Pressa’s hand shoots out and seizes the guard’s wrist. Before he even has time to utter a shout of surprise, she yanks him hard inside the room and shoves him against the wall.

He gasps, then snarls at Pressa as he moves to grab her throat.

I strike him hard in the jaw before he can touch her.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from my brother, it’s how to throw a punch after getting jumped.

My hit lands true. The guard’s knees buckle, and everything in him goes limp as he slides slowly down to the floor.

Pressa gives me an impressed look. “Nice one,” she says.

I shrug. “The benefit of a brother who’s an AIS agent,” I reply.

We waste no time stealing out of the room and locking it behind us. Our clock is ticking now. There’s no going back. My steps quicken across the metal stairs leading to the upper levels of the building.

Here, I recognize the cavernous space that houses Hann’s construction site. Everything is cloaked halfway in shadows, as if silhouettes of guards are standing in every corner. We move slowly, startling at every stairway.

Finally, we arrive at the construction site I remember from when I’d first been held captive. The mazelike cavern full of rows of blinking machine lights is as ominous and mesmerizing as ever, the glow casting everything in the space in a dim blue hue.

I pull Pressa down beside me before she can reach the top landing of the steps. There, we crouch in the shadows, watching the two guards standing along the metal railing leading down to the main floor.

Pressa’s gaze sweeps the endless corridors of computers, her mouth slightly open at the sight. Then she glances at me. “How do we get down there?” she whispers, emphasizing the words soundlessly.

I glance at the guards. Their eyes are turned down toward the rest of the floor space. If we can just get past them, we’ll be able to lose ourselves in the maze of halls and make our way to the control platform located at the other end of the building.

I study the railings of the steps. If Daniel were here, he’d avoid the guards altogether and shimmy down the side of this railing, dropping quietly from floor to floor until he reached the ground below. They’d never even know he was here.

Before my brother took me on his run through the Lake district, I’d have even laughed at the idea of even attempting to do this. Now, though, I find myself looking at the landing, wondering if there’s a way I could at least get us one floor lower and bypass the guards. I may not have Daniel’s agility—but maybe I could find a way with my own tricks.

I begin shrugging off my jacket. Pressa glances curiously at me.

I gesture at her jacket, telling her to do the same, and then point at the railings beside us and then at the ground below.

Pressa blinks at me. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispers.

“If you want to fight those guards, be my guest,” I whisper back. Then I slide over to the metal bars of the railing and loop my jacket through the holes. The bottom of the railing is open just wide enough for me to slide through. It’s a tight squeeze, though.

Pressa watches me go for a moment before she comes over to join me.

I lie flat on my back and push through the bottom of the railing, then lower myself gingerly, the sleeves of my jacket wrapped tightly around my left fist. I dangle over the edge, a silhouette lost in the shadows. Up above, the guards don’t move.

I let myself swing a little back and forth. Then I let go. I catch myself against the lower floor’s railings and manage to land in a soft crouch. There I stay for a second, breathless, listening for the guards above to notice and mutter to each other. Nothing.

Pressa comes shortly after me. She hangs in midair for a beat too, before doing the same and crouching beside me. Her landing is quieter than mine, but one of her bootlaces clinks against the metal railing. The sound makes a tiny echo.