Wildcard (Warcross #2)(10)

She’s taunting me now, testing the resolve of my words. Out of sheer stubbornness, I lunge toward the door and seize the handle, ready to throw it open and rush out the way I came. I half expect to feel the searing pain of a bullet in my back, ripping through me to drop me on the spot.

“If you’re fine with dying tonight,” she adds casually behind me.

As much as I hate myself for it, her words stop me cold.

“Zero’s going to be disappointed to lose you,” she goes on, “but he’s also never forced anyone to work with us against their will. Step out that door, and you’ll be both free and dead. Your choice.”

There are hunters on the other side of this door, waiting for me to come fleeing out into the dim basement level . . . and there’s an assassin in here, one who claims to want to help me escape.

My hand tightens against the door handle. Jax is right. I’ll last two seconds out there by myself, facing off against who knows how many unknown hunters all eager to claim my jackpot. Or, I can take my chances in here, with a so-called Blackcoat who nevertheless saved me and—so far—seems interested in keeping me alive.

I clench my jaw and force my hand to release the handle. Then I turn to glare at her. “This isn’t a choice,” I say. “And you know it.”

She shrugs and goes back to her work. “Just doing my job. Zero’s expecting you, and he’d prefer you in one piece.” A subtle click finally sounds from the door, and she waves one hand at me. “Give me that thing.”

I toss her the metal fragment she’d handed me a moment ago, then look on as she jams it back in the crack where her knife had triggered the click. It glows a soft green. The door makes a faint popping sound—then slides open to reveal a dusty underground walkway that looks like it hasn’t been used in a long time. Some unfinished and long-abandoned subway tunnel. There are stairs at the end of it, leading up to a faint ray of light. The car Zero had mentioned must be waiting there for us.

I stay where I am. “Where are you taking me?”

Jax pulls out her gun again and rests its handle against her shoulder. I stare warily at it. “Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

“Well, that answers my next question.” Then Jax points her gun straight at me and shoots.





3



I experience what happens next in fragments.

The searing pain near my neck from Jax’s shot. The world around me blurring, the distant thud I hear as I collapse against the wall. A jolt of panic that cuts through the sudden numbing of my limbs.

I’ve been drugged.

The thought struggles up through the molasses drowning my mind. I turn my eyes up at Jax as she approaches. What did you do to me? I try to demand an explanation. But my entire body feels like it’s made of rubber now, and even as I stay awake, I find myself sliding sideways until I’m lying on the floor, focusing on Jax’s boots. My heart beats rapidly, the sound drumming in my ears.

Am I dreaming?

No, I’m awake. I can see what’s happening around me, even though it seems to be happening inside a dim tunnel, and the edges of my vision are dark.

The next thing I remember is the feeling of my arm draped around Jax’s shoulders. Of her dragging me down the tunnel and toward a black taxi. I try to focus on the four-leaf-clover symbol on its glowing cab light. The faint smell of new leather permeates the space. Jax looks down at me. From my view, her face is swimming in a haze.

“You’ll be fine,” she says calmly to me. “You just won’t remember this tomorrow morning.”

My head lolls weakly to one side as the car begins to move, rumbling over the unfinished tracks in the tunnel. Slivers of weak light illuminate parts of the dark passage, and I remember the flash of gray against black against gray on the fabric seats. I struggle to remember our route. My heartbeat is irregular, fluttering frantically.

Can I record a Memory? I try to bring up the menu, try to send an invite to connect to Hammie or Roshan—to anyone—but my mind is far too numb to make it happen. Help me. I try in vain to send a message out. Help. I want to scream Jax’s name as I stare at her, but I feel like I’m still wading through the air, and my tongue feels thick and immobile.

My level changes as we emerge from the tunnel into the night, and suddenly we’re surrounded by office buildings that rise up along either side of the street like woods bordering a path. They stretch up ominously like living things.

Welcome to Omotesando District!

+150 Pts. Daily Score: +150

You Leveled Up!

Level 85

My determination momentarily shifts as I notice the change in the sky’s colors. Unlike Shinjuku, where the Phoenix Riders’ scarlet and gold coat everything, Omotesando’s favorite team is the Winter Dragons—so the sky here is covered instead with a sheet of undulating blue and orange-gold. The light posts are draped in vibrant banners, and over them hover virtual versions of the Dragons’ players.

Jax leans over briefly to check on me. She barely glances at the passing celebrations, and when she does, she watches them stoically, without much interest. I fight to keep looking at her, but my thoughts fade into darkness.

My nightmares are full of faces. There is Jax’s grim look as she points her gun down at a human and puts a bullet through his skull. There is Hideo, his voice whispering my name close to my ear, his furrowed brow cutting dark lines over his eyes, his hair brushing against me as he leans in.