Forged(52)

“The Rebels at Crevice Valley were supposed to be part of the organized strike,” September continues. “This blow . . . it crushes our numbers in the East. We need an edge there now more than ever.”

Bree has not stopped shaking her head. “And Vik’s okay with this plan?”

“I’ll reach out to him,” September says, “but I’m telling you now he’ll be on board. The Expats and the Rebels will act come the planned date, and this, if we pull it off, only tips the odds further in our favor.”

“It’s too much of a risk,” Bree insists.

“No one who played it safe ever accomplished anything.”

Bree turns to me. “Gray?”

She wants me to agree with her. She wants me to say it’s foolish and a long shot and dangerous. And it is. But it’s also the edge we need, just as September said, and I want to see the look on Frank’s face when he watches his Forgeries crumple. I want to be there when his last defenses no longer surround him so that I can look him in the eye and end his life for Blaine. For all of them.

Bree scowls at my silence.

“You don’t have to be a part of the team that heads east,” September says to her. “You can stay here with me, help with the fight in Bone Harbor. It will be safer along the Gulf than in Taem.”

“You think that’s what this is about? Me wanting to stay where it’s safest?” She snatches her firearm off the table and thrusts it into her waistband. “You’re all idiots.”

I grab her arm. “Bree . . .”

“I know I told you to not feel bad about disagreeing with me. But I still expected you to use your brain.”

She wrenches herself loose and storms out.


The rest of us plan late into the evening.

It’s exactly a week until Sunder Day, an AmEast holiday commemorating the anniversary of the West’s official secession and the end of the war. A Sunder Rally will be thrown in Taem. Spirits will be up. Guards will be down. This is when we will attack. It is also, I learn, the date Adam, Vik, and Ryder were always working toward.

Every day now is precious.

Harvey will start work on the virus for the alarms first thing in the morning, and a day or two before the Rally, we’ll let ourselves be spotted. Or rather, Harvey will turn me in. We won’t have the virus on us though, not when it’s likely we’ll be searched. Sammy and Clipper will take it to Taem by car as soon as possible, then wait to make a transfer drop.

“What if Vik doesn’t like our plan?” Clipper worries aloud.

“He will,” I say. “And if for some odd reason he doesn’t, we move forward anyway. Go rogue. No one’s around to stop us, and we’re doing this. I’m doing this. We’ve done enough waiting for a lifetime.”

“I’ll update Vik first thing tomorrow,” September assures Clipper. “Until then, how about we toast our new plans?”

A bottle of liquor is pulled out. Glasses are filled. I keep expecting Bree to wander into the kitchen and join us, even if only reluctantly, but when a second round is poured, it’s obvious she’s holding firm. What hits next is the paralyzing idea of carrying out these plans without her. I set my drink on the table and excuse myself.





TWENTY-SIX


BREE’S DOOR SWINGS OPEN WHEN I push on it. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows against her knees and gun clasped in her hands. It’s pointed at the far wall, but her forehead rests against the barrel.

“Hey!” I say, darting in and pulling the weapon away from her. “Dammit, Bree.”


She looks up at me, eyes red. Her gaze trails to the gun and then back to me. She makes a small pshh noise, and says, “I was just thinking.”

“Are you drunk?” She keeps staring straight-ahead, like she can see through my torso. “Are you?”

“I’m upset!” she cries, leaping to her feet. “Is that not allowed? Does something have to alter my mental state before I’m allowed to get emotional?”

“Just answer the question.”

She glares. “No. I’m not drunk.”

She was crying then. I’m not used to seeing her like this, exhausted, eyes bloodshot from tears. Before she can turn away from me, I grab her arm.

“Why are we fighting?”

“Because he’s going to ruin us—you—and you can’t see it!” she says. “We have absolutely no proof that Harvey won’t turn on us.”

“Jackson helped us once.”

“Jackson did what would benefit him. Always. He saved you from Titus because he knew he’d die, too, if he didn’t, or be stuck beneath Burg. He let you climb the Wall because he thought the pursuing Forgeries wouldn’t hurt him. He thought he’d be able to run right back to Frank, that his family was there to take him home.” She shakes her head. “Don’t you see, Gray? There are Forgeries and there are people, but nothing in between. Jackson was always looking out for himself.”

But Bree didn’t hear Jackson’s confessions to me beneath Burg. She didn’t hear him talk about things he shouldn’t have been able to remember, or admit that he loved his younger brother—an emotion impossible for a programmed Forgery. He didn’t stay behind in Burg because he thought it would save him. He stayed behind because he knew it would save us.