“Stop!” he shouted, stronger.
The syringe sank into the same spot. A familiar spot.
There was no way to get in. Lafontaine’s security system only answered to him. Nik could only beat against the glass until his hands ached, until he felt as if he might break through the wall, until his ears rang with his useless shouts. But he beat on, desperate to stop this.
On the other side, mere feet away and entirely unreachable, Gaetan surged against the straps again. This time, his body left the chair, and blood oozed between his teeth.
Lafontaine studied him with perverse eagerness.
Gaetan collapsed once more.
His father waited, pen in hand.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Then he tossed the paper, snatched a different syringe, and jammed it straight into Gaetan’s heart. Adrenaline. It was a drastic measure to bring someone back, but it could work.
When Gaetan woke, Nik would find a way to save him from this hell.
He would hide and wait for Lafontaine to leave. As the door closed, Nik would sneak in, unhook Gaetan, and steal him away through the servant passages he and Elara had taken weeks ago.
As soon as he woke up.
Any second now.
Except seconds turned into minutes, and Gaetan remained motionless.
Lafontaine pressed his fingers to his throat, then turned away. He tossed his clipboard with a silent curse. Furious red splotches climbed up his throat as he tipped the table and threw the empty syringes against the wall, the glass shattering in violent explosions.
Nik tried to accept what had happened. Another rebel dead. The city should be safer.
But all he saw now was a man, agoodman, murdered in the name of his father’s vengeance.
31ELARA
By the time they arrived, the textile factory was engulfed in flames. People in the area were sorted into two different crowds: one that watched the smoke as it clogged the air, raining ash upon their heads, and one that formed chains to bring buckets of water from the Joyaux.
Elara and Chantal joined the second group.
“We have to stop it from spreading!” shouted a man to her left, his face scorched and hands burnt.
“The fire brigade can handle it,” someone answered.
“Because it’s one oftheirdamned factories that went up,” he snarled back. “If it’d been the tenement across the street…”
He didn’t need to finish. They’d seen it before. Anything that didn’t outwardly belong to the Counseil or one of their aristocratic sycophants was free to burn.
“What happened?” Elara asked.
“Damn rebellion, that’s what,” a woman up the chain said. “I don’t much blame them.”
“Then you can stand to the side like the rest of those useless scum.” The man glowered at the crowd of people backing farther and farther away.
A whistle blared around the corner, followed by the thunder of boots. A swarm of police surged toward the crowd, a tidal wave that would swallow them all. The man to her left addressed them.
