Wildcard (Warcross #2)(6)

“Nope,” I reply to him. He vanishes immediately, then resets at the entrance of the club and looks for another potential customer.

I tuck the rest of my hair completely under my hood and keep going. Just a week ago, I probably would’ve been walking with Hideo beside me. His arm wrapped around my waist, his coat over my shoulders. He might’ve been laughing at something I said.

But I’m on my own here, listening to the lonely splash of my boots in the dirty street puddles. The echo of water dripping from signs and overhangs keeps distracting me. It sounds like someone else’s footsteps. The feeling of being watched has returned.

A static buzz vibrates in my ears. I pause for a moment at an intersection, tilting my head this way and that until it stops.

I glance again at Hideo’s green-haloed icon in my view. Where is he now, and what is he doing? I imagine contacting him, his virtual form appearing before me, as Asher’s question rings in my ears. What if I did tell him about Zero’s connection to his brother? Would it be so bad to see what happens, even without being entirely sure?

I clench my teeth, annoyed with myself for thinking of excuses to hear his voice. If I just give myself enough distance from him and focus on this whole thing like it’s a job, then maybe I’ll stop wanting to be near him so much.

The static buzzes in my ear again. This time I halt and listen carefully. Nothing. Only a few people are on the street with me now, each a nondescript silhouette. Maybe someone’s trying to hack me. I start an inspection of my NeuroLink system to make sure everything’s in order. Green text floats past my view, the scan looking normal.

Until it skips over running a diagnostic on my messages.

I frown, but before I can examine it closer, all the text vanishes from my view. It’s replaced by a single sentence.

I’m still waiting, Emika.

Every hair on the back of my neck rises. It’s Zero.





2



I whirl in place on the sidewalk, my eyes darting to each silhouette on the street. The colorful reflections on the road blur in the wet night. Lampposts suddenly look like people, and every distant footstep sounds like it’s headed toward me.

Is he here? Has he been the one watching me? I half expect to see a familiar figure walking behind me, his body encased in fitted armor, his face hidden underneath that opaque black helmet.

But no one’s there.

“It’s only been a few nights,” I whisper under my breath, my words transcribing into a reply text. “Ever heard of giving someone time to think?”

I did give you time.

Irritation flashes hot under my fear. I grit my teeth and start walking faster. “Maybe this is my way of telling you I’m not interested.”

And are you not interested?

“Not interested at all.”

Why not?

“Maybe because you tried to kill me.”

If I still wanted you dead, you would be.

Another shiver down my spine. “Are you trying to get me to take your offer? Because you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

I’m here to tell you that you’re in danger.

He’s toying with me, like he always does. But something about his tone makes me freeze. I realize that maybe he’s hacking through my shields right now, digging through my files, digging through me. He once stole my father’s Memories from me. He could do it again.

“The only danger I’ve ever faced was from you.”

Then you haven’t been in the Dark World lately.

A view of the Pirate’s Den suddenly appears all around me. I jerk backward at the abrupt shift. Just a second ago, I was standing on a city street; now I’m belowdecks on a pirate ship.

Tremaine was right—a good number of people in the Dark World must still be using beta lenses, because Hideo’s algorithm would never let them go down under. The ship looks crowded with virtual people, all of them gathered around the glass cylinder in the den’s center. The screen that displays the assassination lottery.

Always the first pick, aren’t you?

My gaze runs up the list. Some names are familiar ones—gang lords and mob bosses, politicians and a few celebrities. But then—

There I am. Emika Chen. I’m at the top, and beside my name is a reward sum for five million notes.

Five million notes for my death.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I manage to say.

The Pirate’s Den vanishes as quickly as it appeared, leaving me standing in Kabukichō again.

Zero’s messages come rapidly now.

Two assassins are making their way up this street. They’re going to reach you before you can get to a train station.

Every muscle in me tenses at once. I’ve seen what happens to others who end up on that list—and for a price that high, the assassinations almost always go through.

For a split second, I find myself wishing that Hideo’s algorithm already affected everyone. But I quickly shake the thought away.

“How do I know that you didn’t send them yourself?” I whisper.

You’re wasting time. Turn right at the next intersection. Head into the mall and go down to the basement floor. There’s a car waiting for you on the opposite street.

A car? Maybe I wasn’t just being paranoid, after all. He had been watching me, maybe had calculated what routes I’d take once I left the Riders.