“Hey, you wanted to take the risk.” His voice sharpens slightly. “Guess we’ll find out if the captain was worth it.”
Cross is always worth the risk.
I slide out of the car, my boots connecting with the pavement. I check the pocket of my tight-fitting leather jacket to make sure my comm is there; every citizen is required to have their comm on their person. On my wrist, though, is the watch Gray got me from the tech room. It has a signal jamming function, which means any camera I pass will glitch the moment I get near.
Emerging from the alley, I’m instantly hit with the sensation of being observed. Sanctum Point is a surveillance state, which means cameras blinking from every building and streetlight, along with small gray drones humming through the air, their metal eyes scanning the sidewalks for any suspicious activity. I move at a brisk gait, but not fast enough to draw attention.
At the end of the block, I spot the checkpoint. A line of impatient citizens waits for entry while the Copper Block soldiers at the gates usher people forward to scan their prints.
My heartbeat thumps in my ears, and I try to keep my breathing even and calm. Fuck. My palms are getting damp, but I don’t want to wipe them on my pants. I can’t appear nervous.
As I enter the line, the steady sound of shuffling boots combines with the oppressive hum of the surveillance drones, those eerie metallic wings buzzing like vultures. A few people ahead of me chat with one another, but for the most part, everyone stays quiet. They know the drill. Don’t look up at the drones. Don’t look down at your feet. Don’t get noticed. Stare straight ahead and try not to flick off the soldiers until you’re out of their sight.
My nerves heighten as the line crawls forward. What if Gray is wrong and my ID didn’t get swapped?
“What a nuisance,” the woman behind me mutters.
“Tell me about it,” her companion mutters back. “I had to wait an hour last time. Was late for my work assignment and they fined me fifty credits.”
“This new protocol is a fucking joke,” the first woman agrees, shifting with impatience. “I just want to get to work. They’re acting like everyone has something to hide.”
Some of us do.
My gaze shifts toward the front of the line, where one of the Copper soldiers is now scanning the crowd.
Anxiety whips through me, my throat running dry. Is he looking my way?
I try to act as nonchalant as possible, but I swear his cold eyes are trained on me.
The line moves again, dragging me closer to the gate. Damn it. Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m desperate to see Cross, but this is nerve racking. Travis Redden’s security net is tightening, and the last thing I need is to get caught in it.
I edge forward again. Only five more people ahead of me. Fuck.Fuck.
Yeah.
This was a bad idea.
But it’s too late now. If I abruptly step out of the line, that guard with the cropped hair and ice-cold eyes will notice.
I maintain an air of indifference, throwing some impatience into it as well, but inside, the worry is eating at my insides like acid.
Three more people.
My heart hammers against my ribs.
Such. A. Bad. Idea.
Two more people.
“Next,” the soldier barks.
The man in front of me steps toward the scanning bay. A moment later, it beeps, and he’s allowed through.
“Next.”
I take a breath and walk forward. The soldier spares me a cursory glance. Cold and expectant.
I press my print to the scanner, hoping nobody notices the slight trembling of my hand.Please work. Please fucking work.
