Elites of Eden (Children of Eden #2)(64)

I’m about to say Forget it, destroy them, we’re leaving . . . when Lachlan grips my shoulder. I don’t think he means to, but he’s clutching me so hard it hurts.

“You have to get the lenses,” he says between clenched teeth. “You have to take my place.”

I start to shake my head. “No . . .” I begin. But he pulls me out of the room, muttering “Excuse us” while the cybersurgeon shrugs and makes a gesture of aggravated dismissal.

“This is our only chance,” he hisses at me the second we’re alone. He’s pulled me so close. I suddenly feel uncomfortably warm. “There’s a very narrow window. And the way I’ve set it up, a very narrow age range. Someone our age has to infiltrate the school, the inner circle families, or this entire operation is shot to hell.”

“I . . . I’m not like you. I hardly even know what’s going on!”

“You’re more like me than you realize. I know you have a sense of justice. I know you want fair treatment for second children, and all children of Eden.”

“But I can’t! You’re . . .”

“I’m what? What can I do that you can’t do, or learn? I’m nothing special. A kid who was kicked around, kept down, until he decided to fight. You’re a fighter, Rowan.” He rubs his cheek where I punched him. But that was different.

I shake my head. “I’m just . . . me.”

“Never think that ‘just you’ isn’t enough. Rowan, listen to me! Everything is riding on this. I’ve prepared for this, trained for this, thought about nothing else for the past year.”

“But I haven’t! I don’t even know what to do. I don’t want—”

I was going to say I don’t want to, but he cuts me off, and probably thinks I’m going to say something noble, like I don’t want to let you down. But that’s not it. I was just getting used to the idea of peace, underground. Of companions, safety. A new family.

“I’ll help you. I’ll be with you all the way—or as close as I can get. I’ll be your handler.” As if to illustrate, he links his fingers through mine. I feel a strange mix of elation and trepidation. My handler? As if I’m a puppet, with him pulling the strings.

“It will be easy. All you have to do at first is go to school, make friends, act normal.”

A laugh bursts out of me, uncontrollable. “That’s easy? Until a few days ago, I knew three people, of which only two liked me. Make friends? Act normal? If you put me in, your mission will fail in the first five minutes!”

He smiles gently and squeezes my fingers in his. “You’re more charming than you imagine,” he says softly. “I believe in you, Rowan. Believe in yourself and you can do it. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you could. The mission is too important to trust to someone incompetent.” He strokes one of my knuckles with his thumb. “And your life is too important to risk if I didn’t think you’d succeed.”

“Why?” I ask. I’m not fishing for compliments, not asking out of vanity. I really want to know why he values my life so much.

He flushes, actually turns pink. His eyes drop to my fingers, our fingers.

“I’ll just pick one reason,” he says, lifting his gaze to mine again, but not releasing my hands. The small room feels warmer than ever. “The way you fight for people you care about. For Lark when she was in danger. For your brother. You forget yourself, and think only of the person you love. That makes you extraordinary.” He sighs, and there’s a tremor in that sigh so deeply sad. “I only wish once in my life someone had fought for me like that.”

I only have one question for him. “If I say no, will you still help me rescue Ash?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation.

And because he says yes, I say yes.

Within minutes I’m in a brightly lit room, being prepped for surgery. A few breaths later, I slip into blackness . . .





. . . AND AWAKE to gunfire. Only, I’m not really awake. I can’t be, because even though my eyes are open I’m still seeing dreamlike images. My eyeballs tingle. Not just sensation, but movement, a rapid vibration that is maddening. I see . . . I don’t know. People, in a chrome room sickly with a green glow that seems to emanate from above. Small animals, hairless and pink, helpless in cages. Wires protruding from tubs of bubbling gel. The images dance incoherently, but I can’t tell if I’m seeing them with my eyes or my imagination. There’s shouting, too, and another bang. Another gunshot? Real or imagined?

No, it’s the sound of my own body crashing to the floor, jarring every bone. Except my skull. A hand holds my head, saving it from the hard ground. I sense a warm pressure on me, and feel unaccountably safe.

Finally my vision comes into focus, and I see Lachlan. He’s pressed against me, holding me down on the floor. I smile. I don’t know which parts are real, but this feels right.

“We have to get you out of here,” Lachlan says. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell? The hand that’s not cupping my head begins to feel along my body. I giggle when he brushes my ribs. The strange look he gives me when I do suddenly cues me in to what’s real, what’s not.

Gunfire. I had my lens implant surgery. We’re under attack.

I look around wildly from my prone position. I’m practically under the operating table. Strange, sharp instruments are scattered on the floor around me. I try to get up, but Lachlan holds me down.