Marguerite shows up a moment later, also in a towel, and shoots me a questioning look. I force myself to shrug, force myself to keep my expression neutral, even though my heart rate’s surging. Years in the corporate world have at least taught me which mask I need right now.
Blue Braid reaches forward to wrench a cuff from Cleo’s hand, then offers it to my sister. Marguerite leans forward to take it slowly, and my heart sinks as I see the shine on it – it’s hers.
Marguerite carefully curls it around her wrist and then lifts her gaze to study Cleo. Then she shakes her head. ‘If she’s notprepared to play with us, then get her out of the way,’ she says crisply.
‘Wait,’ I manage, going cold inside. ‘Wait, what are you going to—’
‘Get it together,’ Marguerite snaps, rolling her eyes. ‘Nobody’s shooting your girlfriend. But if you think we’re taking her with us, you’re insane.’
Her gaze is directly on me now, and the moment draws out between us, tension mounting as she waits for my reply.
She’s testing me – she’s looking for a sign I’m on her side, or a sign I’m on Cleo’s.
A storm passes through me in less than a millisecond – sharp fear for Cleo, fury at my sister, rage at my own helplessness – and then everything stills.
I dig deep and find the Graves in me – find every part of me that knows how to be a shark, that could die of blood loss before I let my wounds show – and I hold up a hand. ‘No, I get it,’ I say easily. ‘Whatever that was, it was … I mean, she’s a criminal. I met her a few hours ago, and fun’s fun, but I’m not going to fight you to keep her. But we’re not done yet, we’re short on time, and she knows the station.’
Part of me is numb, and part of me is still roaring with anger and despair, deep inside, like a wound’s opening that I don’t think will ever heal. This could be our last conversation. These could be the last words Cleo hears me speak.How can I do this to her?
‘Fuck you,’ Cleo spits, struggling against Blue Braid’s grip, and the words go through me like a knife. ‘I’d rather die thanstand here with you. All the Graves family has ever done is screw over anyone they can find with less power than them. You’re barely human. If you leave me behind – if I’m not a part of your murder machine – then that’s an honor.’
My lungs are so tight I can’t make myself draw a breath.Cleo, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Marguerite looks at Cleo blankly for a long moment and then rolls her eyes again. ‘God, the drama,’ she mutters. ‘Will someone get her out of my sight?’
Cleo wrenches free of Blue Braid suddenly, throwing herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and suddenly my world is all wet girl and towel and desperation. ‘Hunter,’ she gasps, clinging to me. ‘Don’t let them take me! I’m sorry! I don’t want to die!’
Something cracks inside me and I start to shift, start to wrap my arm around her – and then she staggers back from me, as though I’ve pushed her.
‘The hell with you,’ she spits, wet hair falling around her face.
She’s cementing my position. She’s making it look like I just rejected her. She’s spending her last moment with me trying to keep me safe – trying to make sure I survive this screwup, that I can keep fighting.
So I lift my chin and do the only thing I can, to honor what she’s giving me. ‘Find her a pair of pants and get her out of here,’ I tell Blue Braid, taking a step back and securing my towel more carefully around my waist. And then, to Marguerite: ‘What did she even think she was going to do with a cuff? She doesn’t know the first thing about coding.’
I can’t help marveling at the note of almost … boredom in my tone. It’s like I’m outside myself, watching this happen, helpless to stop it. I’m trapped by the thousands of hostages out there who don’t even know they’re in danger. The innocent people who’ll die if I don’t keep trying. If I don’t let them take away Cleo, to keep myself safe.
Blue Braid marches Cleo along the row of cubicles and out the door.
I fold my arms across my chest, forcing myself to remain in place as I watch every last second of her, drinking her in until the moment she’s gone.
Only then do I realize that my own cuff is back around my wrist.
That was the other reason she threw herself at me. My heart clenches.Cleo.
‘Let’s keep moving,’ says Marguerite, snapping into motion. ‘Nico, go prep the rovers for departure. Everyone else, let’s get dressed – you know your jobs.’
Nico’s just arrived with armfuls of clothes salvaged from nearby living quarters, and he makes his way along to offer each of us the best of what he’s got.
‘No problem,’ he says, handing Marguerite a fresh shirt. ‘I’ll get them prepped.’ But there’s a question in his eyes that I don’t understand, even though I sense the weight of it. He’s asking her something that goes deeper than he’s saying.
Marguerite gives him a don’t-fuck-with-me look in return. ‘Hunter will ride with me,’ she says quietly, and he nods.
As we duck back into our cubicles to change, I linger longenough to retrieve Cleo’s specially modified headset when nobody’s looking. I’d rather be untraceable, whatever happens next.
What was that exchange between Nico and Marguerite just now? What did that look he gave her mean? Was Nico challenging my sister?
My heart is still in pieces – I’m still reeling – but if something just happened, and it’s a place I can drive a wedge between them, then I have to figure out what it was.
