Wildcard (Warcross #2)(35)
I stare grimly at the symbol still rotating slowly before us. I’ve met Zero, I’ve heard him speak—and now this is more confirmation that what had happened to Sasuke was real. “The Blackcoats expect me to make contact with Hideo soon, anyway,” I finally say. “He deserves to know.”
Asher snaps his fingers. “Hideo invited a few of us to a formal party at an art hall,” he says. “It’s supposed to be both a congratulations for our win and an apology for all the chaos around this year’s championships. If you go, you could have a conversation with him that’s somewhat private and probably in a setting where he wouldn’t want to do something extreme.”
A private meeting. A formal banquet. “When’s the meeting? Where?”
“Tomorrow night, at the Museum of Contemporary Art.”
“But how do I get in? Hideo’s guaranteed to have me on some sort of watch list, and his guards will be on alert for me.”
“Not if you’re in the Phoenix Riders’ car. Even if it’s you instead of us, it’ll clear you through the entrance gates. Once you’re in, though, you’re on your own.”
The thought of seeing Hideo in person tomorrow night sends a surge of fear and anticipation through me. It’s risky, but it should work. “Okay,” I say with a nod. “Let’s do it.”
Jesse grimaces at me. “If you’re as smart as Tremaine says, you’ll get out of this right now. You’re wedging yourself in a tight spot, between two very powerful forces.” They hold both hands up as they slide out from the sofa. “I’m washing my hands of this either way. You never heard it from me.” They point at Tremaine. “And we’re even from here.” Without another word, they swing a backpack over their shoulders and step out of the karaoke room. A momentary blast of noise—cheers, singing, laughter—comes from outside. Then the door slides shut again, sealing us back in our muted silence.
Tremaine shifts uncomfortably. His eyes dart to Roshan for a second before he looks back at me. “Look, Em,” he says. “Jesse’s got a point. These waters are getting pretty murky. Are you sure you want to keep digging?”
The only sound comes from the party still pounding from all around us. “You’re saying I should step away from this. Leave the Blackcoats behind. Forget about the algorithm.”
“I’m saying that something tells me Sasuke’s story is a whole lot uglier than we could ever imagine,” Tremaine replies. “I don’t know how it all connects, but I can feel it. Can’t you? It’s like that instinct on a bounty hunt when you just know things are about to get worse. Hell, you’ve already been targeted—and shot at.”
“Jax is the one who saved me from those hunters,” I reply, even though the memory settles over me like a dark cloud.
“And what’s going to happen if she finds out what you’re really after? The Blackcoats don’t sound like the forgiving type.”
“You’re on this hunt, too,” I say. “And you’re the one who went digging.”
“No one’s after me.” He shrugs. “It’s safer for me to poke around.”
When I first accepted Hideo’s bounty job, the biggest risk I thought I was taking was getting my identity stolen, or maybe having to face off against a hacker inside Warcross. Now, somehow, I’ve become tangled in a web of secrets and lies, and the wrong step in any direction could cost me my life.
“It’s too late to back away from this.” I lean back against the sofa and stare at the glass door. “The only way out is through.”
“We’re all taking the same way out.” I turn to see Roshan looking straight at me. “You’re not a lone wolf, Em. If they’re going to come for you, they’d better save themselves some time and come for us, too. You’re a Phoenix Rider. We’re a team for a reason.”
Right now, I wish we weren’t. I wish I were still a lone wolf, and that the only life on the line in all of this is mine. But those words don’t make it past my lips. Maybe it’s because I don’t believe them, and that if I’m going to be staring down this barrel, I’d rather have a fighting chance with others by my side. Even so, all I can do is give Roshan a weak smile. I lean my shoulder into his.
“For better or worse,” I reply.
Tremaine’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t look surprised. “Well, I’m not a Rider. So I guess this is when I leave.” He gets up without looking at the others and heads out the door.
* * *
* * *
BY THE TIME I step out into the back alley of the complex, a steady rain has started to fall, leaving the streets slick and shiny. Bright lights pour from the entrance directly across from me, a building filled with pink claw machines dispensing Warcross merchandise. Parties thud from its higher floors, but otherwise, the alley—blocked off on both ends by security—is almost peaceful.
Tremaine’s out here, his back against the wall, waiting out the rain under the canopy. He barely turns his head at the sight of me before going back to staring at the entrance across from us. In the neon light, his pale white skin looks blue.
“Off to report to the Blackcoats?” he says. “You’re on so many teams, I can’t even keep track anymore.”