Rebel (Legend, #4)(92)

I smile a little. Daniel must have set it off.

Pressa taps me. In the thick fog, an emergency light has turned on, its searing green light cutting through the veil of mist at the far end of the building. “An exit,” she whispers to me.

I nod. “Come on,” I urge, taking her hand again. Where’s Daniel? Can he see us through all this?

We dash through the gray mist, keeping our hands out against the computers to guide us. I feel a surge of panic at how blind we are—the murky surroundings, the shouts in the air—it all reminds me of the Colonies’ final attack. Of my stumbling through the mist, calling out my brother’s name. My heart pounds against my chest. I force it down, trying to tell myself that I’m not back there.

Another bullet sparks against a computer near us. We both cringe, falling to our knees. They’re getting closer to us.

Then suddenly—I hear a startled yell, followed by a sharp crack that must be to someone’s head. Daniel. Had they gotten him? I look behind us, trying to see through the fog, but can’t make anything out. Another loud crack, followed by a scuffle.

Then, out of the mist, materializes a familiar face covered in a black half-mask and a cap. My brother’s blue eyes meet ours.

“They’re on their way,” he says to me before he bends down and helps me hoist Pressa back onto her feet. She hisses in pain.

It’s all I can do to not break down in front of Daniel. He’s here. He’s come for me. I start to say something back, but a ripple of gunfire behind us forces all of us to drop again to our knees. The bullets ping hard against the computers.

“They’re coming from the side,” Daniel says to us in a rush. “They’re cutting us off from the exit.”

“Where do we go?” Pressa gasps out.

Daniel glances up, where a lattice of steps snakes upward onto a metal walkway. “Up,” he replies. “We’re going to draw them away from you. Make a run for it. Do you understand?”

She looks ready to argue, but Daniel’s eyes are the color of steel. She decides against it, then folds her lips into a grim line and nods.

Daniel looks at me. “Remember our climb?” he asks.

I nod without a word.

“Good.” With one leap, he pulls himself onto the top of the computer shelves, then reaches down for me with a hand. “Then let’s go.”

I take his hand and haul myself up. Down below, Pressa crouches, facing the direction of the exit. Daniel glances toward where the shadows of guards can be seen darting through the fog. He nods at me and forms a foothold with his hands.

I take a few steps, then step up with his help and reach for the first stair railing I can. My fingers close around one of the metal banisters. I haul myself up. As I go, Daniel comes beside me, moving easily through the fog.

Bullets spark below us. I hope they’re not aiming for Pressa. She’s already invisible to me in the mist.

I pull myself over the first railing and hop up for the next one. Daniel’s up before me and reaching down to help me. I climb up and over the second stair railing. Now we can look out at the shrouded warehouse. Above us is the walkway that leads along the top of the building before curving back down toward the exit.

We’re almost there. On the other side, beyond the exit door, is the Antarctican army. June.

“Come on,” Daniel urges me. We rush up the last flight of stairs until we reach the edge of the walkway suspended above the rest of the building.

That’s where I freeze.

Standing at the other end of the walkway is Dominic Hann. He must have seen where we were headed, even through the fog—he knew we were heading for that exit. Now he’s blocking our way. His eyes glint dark and furious through the haze.

Behind us, I hear the clatter of his guards’ footsteps on the lowest staircase. We’re trapped.

Daniel’s arm shoots out to protect me. “Stay back,” he whispers, his gaze locked on Hann.

“No,” I reply. This has always been my fight, the beginning of my haunted trips down here to the Undercity, the struggle to understand who I am. So I push my brother’s arm away and shake my head. When he resists, I turn to look him directly in the eyes. “I can do this.”

Something about my expression seems to click with him. He searches my face, hesitating, and then forces himself to take a step back. “Fair enough,” he says. “But hell if I’ll let you go alone.”

A small smile touches the edge of my mouth. “Never said I didn’t want your help,” I reply.

Hann walks toward us. A red light—probably turned on with the alarm—has started sweeping across the building, and it washes the man in scarlet, as if he were drenched in blood. His lips curl into a snarl.

“Where do you think you’ll end up?” he calls out to me. Even now, in his anguish, his voice is smooth and deep. “Where do you think that exit leads to?”

“A place you don’t control,” I answer.

He laughs bitterly. “Does it make a difference? You’ll be under the thumb of someone else. And I could have shown you something so much better.”

He draws something in his hand—a glint of metal flashes in the fog. Then he lunges for me.

He’s so fast that I barely have time to throw myself to the floor of the walkway. Daniel leaps up onto the railing with a single jump, spins, and ends up on Hann’s other side. But the man keeps coming. He swipes at me once, twice. I scramble backward. As the blade flashes again in the light, I kick my leg up. My boot catches his hand. It’s not enough to make him drop the knife, but it stops him long enough for me to get up and throw myself at him.