Restore Me (Shatter Me #4)(17)

“That’s not going to happen again,” I say firmly. “Besides, we’re more protected here than we ever were before. We have an entire army behind us now. We’re safer in this building than we would be anywhere else.”

My words are met with an immediate chorus of support, but still I bristle, because I know that what I’ve said is only partly true.

I have no way of knowing what’s going to happen to us or how long we’ll last here. What I do know is that we need the new space—and we need to set up shop while we still have the funds. No one has tried to cut us off or shut us down yet; no sanctions have been imposed by fellow continents or commanders. Not yet, anyway. Which means we need to rebuild while we still have the means to do so.

But this—

This enormous space dedicated only to our efforts?

This was all Warner’s doing.

He was able to empty out an entire floor for us—the top floor, the fifteenth story—of Sector 45 headquarters. It took an enormous amount of effort to transfer and distribute a whole floor’s worth of people, work, and furnishings to other departments, but somehow, he managed it. Now the level is being refitted specifically for our needs.

Once it’s all done we’ll have state-of-the-art technology that will allow us not only the access to the research and surveillance we’ll need, but the necessary tools for Winston and Alia to continue building any devices, gadgets, and uniforms we might require. And even though Sector 45 already has its own medical wing, we’ll need a secure area for Sonya and Sara to work, from where they’ll be able to continue developing antidotes and serums that might one day save our lives.

I’m just about to point this out when Delalieu walks into the room.

“Supreme,” he says, with a nod in my direction.

At the sound of his voice, we all spin around.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

There’s a slight quiver in his words when he says, “You have a visitor, madam. He’s requesting ten minutes of your time.”

“A visitor?” I turn instinctively, finding Kenji with my eyes. He looks just as confused as I am.

“Yes, madam,” says Delalieu. “He’s waiting downstairs in the main reception room.”

“But who is this person?” I ask, concerned. “Where did he come from?”

“His name is Haider Ibrahim. He’s the son of the supreme commander of Asia.”

I feel my body lock in sudden apprehension. I’m not sure I’m any good at hiding the panic that jolts through me as I say, “The son of the supreme commander of Asia? Did he say why he was here?”

Delalieu shakes his head. “I’m sorry to say that he refused to answer any of my more detailed questions, madam.”

I’m breathing hard, head spinning. Suddenly all I can think about is Castle’s concern over Oceania this morning. The fear in his eyes. The many questions he refused to answer.

“What shall I tell him, madam?” Delalieu again.

I feel my heart pick up. I close my eyes. You are a supreme commander, I say to myself. Act like it.

“Madam?”

“Yes, of course, tell him I’ll be right th—”

“Ms Ferrars.” Castle’s sharp voice pierces the fog of my mind.

I look in his direction.

“Ms Ferrars,” he says again, a warning in his eyes. “Perhaps you should wait.”

“Wait?” I say. “Wait for what?”

“Wait to meet with him until Mr Warner can be there, too.”

My confusion bleeds into anger. “I appreciate your concern, Castle, but I can do this on my own, thank you.”

“Ms Ferrars, I would beg you to reconsider. Please,” he says, more urgently now, “you must understand—this is no small thing. The son of a supreme commander—it could mean so much—”

“As I said, thank you for your concern.” I cut him off, my cheeks inflamed. Lately, I’ve been feeling like Castle has no faith in me—like he isn’t rooting for me at all—and it makes me think back to this morning’s conversation. It makes me wonder if I can trust anything he says. What kind of ally would stand here and point out my ineptitude in front of everyone? It’s all I can do not to shout at him when I say, “I can assure you, I’ll be fine.”

And then, to Delalieu:

“Lieutenant, please tell our visitor that I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Yes, madam.” Another nod, and Delalieu’s gone.

Unfortunately, my bravado walks out the door with him.

I ignore Castle as I search the room for Kenji’s face; for all my big talk, I don’t actually want to do this alone. And Kenji knows me well.

“Hey—I’m right here.” He’s crossed the room in just a few strides, by my side in seconds.

“You’re coming with me, right?” I whisper, tugging at his sleeve like a child.

Kenji laughs. “I’ll be wherever you need me to be, kid.”





WARNER





I have a great fear of drowning in the ocean of my own silence.

In the steady thrum that accompanies quiet, my mind is unkind to me. I think too much. I feel, perhaps, far more than I should. It would be only a slight exaggeration to say that my goal in life is to outrun my mind, my memories.