Page 19 of Captive


  “Then start acting like a queen before we lose the game for good.” Scotia nodded to the necklace peeking out from underneath my collar. “If Mercer sees it and asks, I gave it back to you. Steal from me again, and I’ll break your neck.”

  I yanked my arm from her grip and stalked off. She could threaten me all she wanted, but in the space of two days, I’d already faced my worst fears and seen what rock bottom looked like. And just as I’d started to crawl back from it, someone else had died because of me. There was nothing Scotia could do to hurt me more than this place already had.

  The walk back to Mercer Manor was long and bitter. I passed several guards on the way, but none tried to stop me, and every prisoner unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity kept their head down and increased their pace. I was as much of a pariah as ever, but at least this way, no one would get close enough for me to hurt them no matter how good my intentions were.

  Rivers stood guard at the gate to Mercer Manor, and he offered me a small smile when I approached. “Good to see you’re all right, Miss Hart.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I wasn’t in the cage,” I said, my voice shaky to my own ears, but Rivers didn’t seem to notice. He punched a code into the gate, and it slid open for me.

  “No, you weren’t,” he said, his words heavy with meaning I chose to ignore.

  He ushered me inside and led me up the drive, his rifle strapped to his back. Idly I wondered how many people he’d shot with it. The scar snaking up his neck was a reminder I sorely needed that he, at least, hadn’t snitched out his friends in order to gain a uniform. But it was also one more aspect of Elsewhere I was no longer ignorant about, and I averted my eyes, concentrating on the frozen ground instead.

  “You did a good thing for those two, showing them they weren’t alone,” he said quietly. “Not to say it wasn’t a stupid move, because it was—but it was also brave. Very brave. That kind of courage is rare around here.”

  “Guess Mercer hasn’t had the chance to beat it out of me yet,” I muttered. Rivers smiled at me in a pitying sort of way and set his hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a better person than you know.”

  I shrugged him off. He had no idea what had happened. “Why are you doing this?” I said. “You have the cushy job, the privileges—and now you’re going to risk it all for some rebellion that probably won’t even work. I don’t get it. You seem smarter than that.”

  He drummed his fingers against his shoulder strap. “You’re a little ray of sunshine tonight, aren’t you?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “No, it isn’t,” he agreed, and he paused underneath one of the massive trees twenty feet from the Mercers’ front door. “I should ask you the same question, you know. Why did you risk your perfect life as a VII and a Hart to stand up for the rest of us? Why did you try to save your friend’s life knowing it was entirely possible Mercer would shoot you, too?”

  “Stupidity,” I grumbled. He chuckled.

  “Maybe to you. To the rest of us, you’re a hero.” Rivers nodded toward the manor. “Tonight’s our last chance. What do you think? Are we going to make it?”

  “You tell me. What does Scotia have planned?”

  “You,” he said. “She has you planned. If you’re not following through, tell me now. I prefer to know if it’s going to be my last night.”

  I shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

  “Guess I will.” His grin returned, and he ruffled my hair. “We’re counting on you. No pressure, though.”

  “Yeah, no pressure.” I started toward the porch and stopped. “That scar—who gave it to you?”

  For the first time since I’d met him the night before, Rivers faltered, and he touched the bit of it that crept over his collar. “Daxton Hart.”

  “When?”

  He shrugged. “Eight months ago, maybe? He and Mercer—” Rivers paused. “Not sure what I did to piss them off, but whatever it was, must’ve been a doozy.”

  The real Daxton Hart had died over a year ago, which meant it had been the man Masked as him instead. “Did Mercer have a—brother or a best friend?” I said. “Someone who died or disappeared a year or so ago?”

  Rivers furrowed his brow and shifted his gun. “Victor Mercer, his older brother. He ran the place before he had a heart attack. Dropped dead in front of Augusta Hart and everything.”

  “I bet he did,” I mumbled. Victor Mercer. That had to be him. “Thanks, Rivers. Don’t freeze your feet off tonight.”

  “No more than any other night,” he said, tilting his hat to me. “Take care of yourself, Miss Hart. Hope to see you tomorrow safe and sound.”

  He headed back down the drive, and I climbed up the porch steps and knocked on the front door. There was a significant chance my stunt had made the Mercers change their minds, and I was mentally preparing myself for the walk back to the bunkhouse—where Scotia would be waiting, no doubt ready to lay into me for failing to get the codes—when Hannah opened the door.

  “There you are!” she said, relief saturating her voice. But why she had been worried about me in the first place, I couldn’t fathom. “Look at you—were you rolling around in the mud?”

  I hesitated. “Someone knocked me over.”

  “Who?” she said, her eyes flashing. I shook my head.

  “It was an accident.”

  She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she still helped me out of my muddy boots and socks before leading me into the warm foyer. My muscles shuddered as they began to thaw, and I padded after Hannah as she led me into the kitchen.

  “No, don’t sit down,” she said, cringing. “Here—take that thing off. I’ll fetch you a robe and have a servant draw you a bath.”

  She held out her hand for my muddy jumpsuit, and I stared at her. “Right here? You want me to get naked in the middle of the kitchen?”

  “Well, you’re certainly not tracking that thing around my house,” she said. I sighed and began to strip.

  Thirty seconds later, Hannah shoved my mud-caked clothes into a trash chute as I stood in the middle of the kitchen, shivering in a plain T-shirt and underwear. Her change in mood continued to baffle me, and I watched her as if she were about to grow a second head.

  “I see you found your necklace.” Hannah poured boiling water from a kettle into a mug, and she dropped a tea bag inside. “Here, drink this—it’ll warm you up.”

  I took the hot cup and wrapped my hands around it. The heat burned my cold skin, but I refused to set it down. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, but there was a note of tension that hadn’t been there before.

  “I’m sure Mercer wasn’t happy with—what happened earlier.”

  A muscle in her jaw twitched, and she poured a cup for herself. “No, he wasn’t. I take it that girl was a friend of yours.”

  I took a sip of tea. It burned my tongue, and I could feel it slide through me as I swallowed. “Yes. Or at least I thought she was.”

  “Jonathan could have shot you, you know,” she said. “If Knox hadn’t asked him to be lenient, he might have. He doesn’t appreciate acts of rebellion.”

  “And yet you’re offering me tea and warm clothes.”

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t mistake loyalty for revolt.”

  “You still shouldn’t have done it,” said another voice from behind me. Knox. I glared at him over my shoulder.

  “I’m half-naked, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Oh, I noticed.”

  Hannah set her tea aside. “You should head upstairs before Jonathan walks in, too. He’s due back any minute.”

  “I’ll show her the way,” said Knox, setting his hand on the small of my b
ack. I scowled.

  “I know how to get to my room, thank you.”

  “I’m sure you do. Through here.”

  The harder I tried to shake him off, the closer Knox seemed to get, so at last I let him follow me up the back stairs and to the second floor. The hallway was empty, and I stopped in front of the Augusta Suite, not bothering to hide my sneer at the name this time.

  Instead of making the lighthearted quip I expected, Knox stooped toward me. “Are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him yes, I was fine, but a lump formed in my throat before I could do anything more than squeak. No, I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t been okay even after finding out Benjy was still alive, and now, with the weight of Noelle’s and Elliott’s deaths on my shoulders, along with the responsibility of getting the codes—it was a miracle I was still standing.

  “How do you do this?” I managed, my voice cracking. “How—”

  “Get inside,” he said quietly, pushing open the door. I took one look at the childish room named after the woman I’d killed, and my stomach turned.

  “No. Not in there.” I slipped past him and moved down the hallway toward the Edward Suite. That morning, I’d been planning the best way to kill him in that room without anyone finding out it was me. Now it felt like the only safe place in Elsewhere.

  I didn’t understand why until I reached the room and spotted the gold frame Greyson had given me. I sank onto the edge of the bed beside the nightstand and, setting my hot mug of tea down, I picked it up instead.

  “What did Greyson say when you had me hauled off?” I said. Knox stepped into the room and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. The click of the lock reverberated through my chilled bones, and even though I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him, I didn’t have enough left in me to care anymore.

  “I’m afraid father and son aren’t getting along very well at the moment,” he said. “Greyson is confined to Somerset for the foreseeable future.”

  “You should tell him what’s going on.”

  “And risk Daxton finding out? No.” Knox shook out a dark quilt and draped it over my shoulders. “The less Greyson knows, the safer it’ll be for him.”

  “Didn’t you say the same thing about me?” I glanced up at him, and in the low light, I spotted lines on his face I hadn’t noticed before. “What’s the endgame, Knox? Why are we all doing this?”

  He eased down onto the mattress beside me, leaving enough room between us so it didn’t become awkward. “Ideally, by the time my father’s generation is dead, we would like to see the country returned to some form of democracy, where the people decide on issues and a majority rules. Right now, the VIs are a small percent of the population—”

  “Two percent,” I said. “Benjy told me that once.”

  “Yes, two percent. Yet they’re the ones dictating what everyone else’s lives are going to be. It goes against basic human rights. Everyone should have freedom and choice, and that’s what we’re going to restore first and foremost. It won’t be an immediate change. We can’t have one, not without throwing the country into chaos all over again and creating an opening for another form of government that will only repress the people even more. Change and reform have to come from within, and I plan on helping it along.”

  “So that’s it,” I said. “You’re going to be the Prime Minister.”

  “Celia, more than likely,” he corrected. “If she’s stable enough for it. If not, then we’ll talk to Greyson. See if he’s willing to take the lead.”

  “He won’t be.” I touched the glass over his face in the picture. “Not everyone wants to rule the world.”

  “But everyone wants to live in their perfect version of it.”

  I was quiet for a long moment. “If someone from the future came here tonight and told you that the only way for the rebellion to succeed was to kill me and Benjy, would you do it?”

  “Yes,” said Knox without hesitating. I snorted. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.

  “Would you bother to think about it at all? Even for a second?”

  He shook his head. “I would hate doing it, and I would carry the burden of guilt for the rest of my life. But if it meant freedom and choice for every single person in this country, then I would. And you would let me.”

  “Would I?” I said coolly.

  “Yes. Because no matter who you pretend to be, you’re Kitty Doe. You put your life on the line again and again to protect the people you love, and you would never let millions die just so you could live.”

  Seconds passed, and I was silent. He was right. In the end, everything was temporary, and a few more decades of breathing was nothing compared to a future where no one’s worth would be decided by a number on the back of their neck.

  “Would you kill yourself?” I said. “If you knew it would make the rebellion succeed, would you put a gun to your head and pull the trigger?”

  He exhaled and raked his hand through his hair. “I ask myself that every night. And every night I remember that death is inevitable for all of us. The only thing that really matters in the end is how we choose to live.”

  Knox reached for the frame, but instead of taking it from me, he touched the switch on the back until Greyson and Lila melted away, and Benjy and I filled the screen.

  “I don’t expect you to ever trust me again, Kitty. I don’t expect you to say a word to me once this is over one way or the other. But I see what being Lila puts you through day after day. I see your courage. I see your sacrifice. And I see you when I look at your face—not her. Not anymore.” He set his hand on my arm. “You’re not alone. You’ve never been alone, and I’m immensely grateful for all you’ve gone through to help us. I should have said it more before. But since I can’t go back, just like no one is coming from the future to tell us what to do, I’m going to say it now. Thank you.”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I nodded tersely. Anything more and I would break down, and I’d done enough of that today to last me a lifetime.

  I would never trust him again, and when this was over, Benjy and I would disappear inside our future together, and Knox would be nothing but a memory we never talked about. But right now, in a place full of people who would have been happy to watch us burn, he was my only real ally. And I suspected I was his.

  “Can I keep this?” I said, staring at Benjy’s face.

  “I brought it here for you.” Knox cleared his throat. “Kitty, I need you to promise me you won’t try to find those codes tonight. If you’re caught—”

  “There’s nothing you can do or say that will save me from the Mercers. I know.” I looked at him—really looked at him for the first time since I’d arrived Elsewhere. Our eyes met, his so dark they appeared to have no irises at all, and I smiled faintly. “But it’s not the dying that matters, remember? It’s how we choose to live.”

  “I mean it,” he said, frowning. “Everyone here still thinks you’re Lila Hart. You can help us in a way no one else can, and I need to know you’re safe. That’s why I brought you here in the first place.”

  “Directly into the line of fire? How thoughtful of you.”

  “To a place where I can protect you. The war isn’t over, Kitty. It hasn’t even begun. And when it does, the Blackcoats are going to need you. Benjy’s going to need you, Celia’s going to need you—I’m going to need you. Promise me you won’t try to find those codes.”

  I scowled. “Fine. I promise.”

  Knox eyed me as if he didn’t believe me, and I held his stare, silently daring him to challenge me. At last he relented. “All right. Come on, back to your room. Unless—”

  “I am not sleeping in here with you,” I said. Even the Augusta Suite was better than that. I stood, taking the blanket with me. “Good night, Knox.”

  “Good night, Kitty.”

  He followed me to
the door, but he stayed there as I trekked back down the hallway. Now that I’d had time to compose myself, I slipped into my room without any fluttering panic. Augusta had lived her life, and she’d made her choices. I wouldn’t let her ghost haunt me when I knew I was doing the right thing.

  I sat on the soft bed for hours, staring at the picture of Benjy and replaying the memory of that afternoon in my head over and over again, until I could feel the weight of his arms around me and the warmth of his breath tickling my cheek. It wouldn’t be the last time he held me. And if for no other reason than that, I knew I was doing the right thing. For Benjy, for our future, for the happiness we both deserved. Now that I had him back, I wasn’t going to lose him again, and if the Blackcoats failed, that was exactly what would happen.

  Scotia and Knox had had their chance to get the codes. Now it was my turn.

  When the clock struck two in the morning, I slipped out of the bedroom and crept down the hall. I paused in front of Knox’s room, listening for any sign he was awake, but I heard nothing. Relieved, I headed to the grand staircase, taking two at a time. Once again I paused at the bottom, waiting for a cough or soft footsteps to indicate I wasn’t alone.

  Silence.

  Mercer’s office door creaked as I slid it open, and I held my breath, waiting for someone to appear. No one did. My luck wouldn’t last forever, though, and I fumbled to unclasp my necklace. Corner drawer, black folder. I could do this.

  There had to be two dozen drawers lining Mercer’s back wall, but there were only four corners. I started at the bottom right. The lock wasn’t a standard one—there was something strange about it that made it much harder to pick, and I had to use all three lock picks on the necklace before I managed. As quickly as I could, I flipped through the folders, but they were all manila. No black in sight.

  Muttering a soft curse, I ducked over to the other corner, making quick work of the lock now that I knew how to do it. But to my dismay, there was no black folder in that one, either.

  That left the two drawers in the top corners. I wouldn’t be able to reach either on my own, and I carried Mercer’s chair over instead, careful not to make a sound. I climbed up and undid the third lock, and once again, it was full of manila folders.