E
Chapter 26: All the Pretty Little Horses
I TEAR THROUGH the streets, dodging people, jumping obstacles, skidding around corners with my feet sliding in the slush. Sometimes, I glance behind me, but see no sign that anyone has followed. It doesn't matter, because they'll know where to go soon enough. I have to get there before them. Have to give Jonas a moment to escape. Even as I run, I try to think where we can go to hide. But no one hides from Matt. Not for long. We'll have to keep moving, keep changing places. Even so, the odds are not in our favor.
I hurtle into the alleyway, making the guard at the door bolt to his feet, rags swaying. His eyes scan me. "They're coming," I wring out of myself in ragged breaths. I throw myself through the door into the warehouse.
Inside, everything is dark, lit only by bleak sunlight that filters through the dirt-fogged windows. I see Jonas right away, standing in one of the only pools of light. He's talking to a man I don't know, while others at a table are pouring over a map. They all look at me.
"They're coming," I say again, though I'm gasping for breath. "Matt."
Everyone moves at once. I expect them to scatter like cockroaches in the light. Instead, their movements have a practiced calmness. They move quickly, but not in panic. They're not abandoning their current location. They're heading somewhere else.
Jonas strides toward me, his face fixed in a dark look. "Tell me."
I suck in air and rattle out the general gist of what I know. "We have to get out of here," I finish breathlessly. "We have to find a place to hide."
Jonas shrugs away from me, and only then do I realize my fingers are clawing at his upper arm. He looks toward the door, his face set in that even, unreadable expression. "Stay here," he says, and without looking at me, he walks toward the door.
A gust of cold wind whooshes in as he goes out. The door bangs shut behind him.
Fear seizes hold, freezing me in place. I blink, and try to breathe. An instant later, my feet mobilize, and I'm running after him.
He glances back when he hears my footsteps, flying down the alley behind him. "I told you to stay there," he says as I fall in beside him. "This is—"
The revving roar of the angry engine rises on the cold air, speeds closer. Wheels screech around a corner. It's upon us. The car skids to a halt at the end of the alley in front of us, rear engine steaming. The truck blocks the alley opening behind us. We're trapped in this tunnel between them. But Jonas just keeps walking forward, so I go with him.
The car doors open. Matt, and three of his men, climb out and form up in front of us. The three have their hands on their guns, though none of them have drawn yet. I hear footsteps on the pavement far behind us. There are at least six of them there. And more on their way, for sure.
Matt squints at us. The way he holds his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw, the way he almost starts pacing— he's fuming, livid. When he begins to speak, I expect him to address Jonas, but he doesn't. He levels one finger at me. "I'm done with you, Eden," he says, his voice pained and thick with anger. "I gave you every chance, and you do this to me?"
When I ran here, I knew Matt would want to kill me for it. I expected his wrath, falling from the sky like fire. I expected guns and knives and explosions. My death, probably. But the personal accusation— somehow I missed that in my scenario. And I missed the fact that it would actually make me feel guilty. I look at him, unable to speak. Unable to defend myself. Because Matt has given me every chance. He took in Oscar and fed him, when I couldn't. He tried to keep me from starving, too. I've never given anything back to him, and it looks like I never will.
"She's not actually part of it," Jonas says, somehow managing to make his voice completely level and calm. "I'm the one you came here for."
Matt has his gun drawn and aimed at Jonas' head in an instant.
Jonas stares back at him steadily. "Not your best idea."
I glance between the two of them. Matt's grimace. Jonas' intense gaze. All I have is my knife. Can I manage to draw and throw it before Matt can kill Jonas? Or should I create a diversion so Jonas can run? Would he? Would he leave me?
"Don't worry," Matt says. "You're going to live at least a few hours more, until you tell me everything you know about Grey. Her, on the other hand..." His gun swings toward me.
There is a click. Lots of them, actually. Matt freezes. Only his eyes move upward, to the roofline.
My eyes follow his, darting up. Standing along the roof, looking down on us, are dozens of armed men. I turn to the other side of the alley, and there are more. Across and behind Matt, still more are silhouetted against the sky like posts in a fence. All their guns are trained on him.
Matt thrusts his gun toward me, but looks at Jonas. "You want to keep her alive," he says, smiling. "Now don't you."
Jonas doesn't even glance at me. He's still deadly calm, staring at Matt. "It's the only way you make it out of here."
Matt's eyes narrow, but he backs away, toward the car. In a moment, the doors have slammed shut and the vehicle screeches away down the street. I close my eyes, and breathe.
Jonas' hand on my arm makes me jump. "Come on," he says softly, leading me back toward the door. I go with him, but I'm staring at him as we go, wondering who the hell he has become.
We barely reach the door when Apollon comes barreling down from the other end of the alley. "I missed the excitement, huh," he pants. "Anything good?"
Jonas just shakes his head, guiding me through the door.
Inside, we sit at the table. Some of the others sit with us. I'm starting to recognize their faces, but I don't know their names. One of them, a redheaded, bearded man with light, light blue eyes, seems to be in charge of security. There are two shaggy-headed, brown-haired men that I can't seem to keep straight. They're constantly leaving and coming back, so I never exactly get which one is which. There's a blonde boy, too, who seems to have a lot of information. At least, I think it's a boy. But then, after a while, the mannerisms give her away. She might be able to pull it off on the streets, but she's too feminine to make the disguise work in close company. There's something oddly familiar about her, too. Finally, I place her. She's Sumter's daughter.
I sit amongst the whirlwind of conversation, missing most of it. I'm just watching Jonas, the way everyone defers to him, answering his questions promptly, nodding as he speaks. I'm counting in my head how many men were on the roof, and replaying Matt's retreat. My body is still shaking, after-effects of the adrenaline, or maybe the VR machine. Soon, my eyelids are heavy, but I can't give in to the tiredness. We'll need to move, before long. We'll need to run.
I'm staring at the floor when the conversation wraps up. People move away from the table, but I stay, frozen in a haze. I tell myself to get up, but it doesn't happen. I'm pondering whether my muscles are really not listening to my brain, or whether I just don't want to, when warmth caresses my back and shoulders. Jonas wraps the blanket around my neck and holds it there for just a moment.
I turn my face to the side, though I still can't see him. "Thanks." My voice is gruff, a mere whisper.
He leaves the blanket in my hands, and starts to turn away. "We'll leave as soon as—"
The door opens, and two men walk in, escorting Neveah. Now, I'm out of the chair, running for her, wrapping my arms and my blanket around her. I hold onto her, and try to stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes. How could I have forgotten her?
"OK," Jonas says, "let's go." He ushers us down a hall and into another room, where Apollon is with a group of men, a bundle of packs at their feet. There's a second door here, that opens into a side street.
As Neveah and I step through it, she squeezes my hand and gives me a questioning look. It takes me a second to understand.
I look at Jonas and Apollon, following closely behind us. "Miranda," I whisper, as we move into the darkness of the alley. "What about Miranda?"
Jonas presses his hand into my back to urge me forward. "Keep going, Eden," he whispers. It's the only answer I get.