Compliance (21 page)

Burn pulls the string over his head and it ruffles his hair. “Here.” He holds it out toward me.

My insides freeze. When Zina impersonated Burn she had him down, right to that signature coat—his appearance, his voice. Clearly she can use her Deviant ability to create a complete illusion and I have no idea how far that goes.

“Tell me about the ring.” My voice shakes. “How did you get it?”

“I already told you.”

“Not enough. I need details. Things only Burn and I know. Tell me everything that happened that day.”

He slides down the wall to sit opposite me, and his long legs bend at the knee to fit in the small space, his boot an inch from my hip. “You tried to jump off a cliff,” he says. “I stopped you. You were grieving, angry. You tossed the ring.”

No one else could know that.

“I went back later to find the ring.”

“Why?” My voice is small and breathy.

He rakes his hand through his thick hair. “I figured you might want it some day.”

Emotions flood my mind, my chest, my eyes. I should close my eyes to guard against hurting him, but I can’t take them off his face, his body, his eyes filled with heat and hunger. I can’t believe I didn’t see the truth sooner—both now and when it was Zina.

I can’t believe I let her trick me. No matter how many months have passed, Burn would never have acted so cold. And as much as Zina got his appearance right, she didn’t capture the utter power of his presence. She might have nailed his voice, but not the words he’d choose.

“It’s really you.” I drop a hand onto his boot beside me and swear I feel heat penetrating the worn leather.

“You couldn’t tell?” His voice is quiet.

“I should have known. I’m sorry. The things Zina said…” I shift over to sit next to him, feeling lighter, freer. Now that I’ve found him, I’ve got an FA contact again.

Burn’s quiet and I can hear him breathing beside me, feel his warmth. I want to tuck under his arm to feel safe, but who am I kidding? Nothing about Burn is safe.

“Have you seen Drake and my dad?”

He nods. “They send their—love.” He has trouble getting the word out.

I lean forward. “How are they? What’s going on?”

A door down the hall opens and a crack of light invades. Without a word, he takes my hand and pulls me up as he rises. We press back against the wall until the door closes, then move rapidly along the hall to a window and onto a rope that leads down. My cloth-wrapped hand slips but holds, and I let go after I hear him land on the street’s surface. The drop is farther than I anticipate, but he catches me around the waist, easing my landing.

His hands stay around me longer than necessary, but when I look up into his eyes, he drops his arms down
and dashes to the right, pulling me with him. A searchlight trails down the lane ahead of us, and his grip on me tightens.

“Jump,” he says an instant before he wraps an arm around me and he leaps. With the other arm, he grabs a railing, at least twenty feet off the ground.

“Pull your legs up,” he whispers, and we both tuck just as the light passes under our feet.

Pressed against him, I feel his heartbeat drive into me as his scent brings back memories of pine trees, the hot sun, and passion.

“Ready?” he asks, and he lets go before I can answer. We drop back to the pavement and I follow as he runs through a maze of unfamiliar streets, some so narrow he has to turn sideways to fit his broad shoulders.

I’m used to running, but I’m sleep deprived and my lungs are on fire when he stops suddenly, checks around us, then opens a hatch at the bottom of a wall, pulling it up and into the street.

“Go through.”

I drop and crawl through the entrance into the darkness, wondering how, or if, he’ll follow. His hand hits my calf, then his body fills the entire hatch as he twists to squeeze his shoulders and chest through the space.

When he’s in, he drops the hatch cover. “Your torch. Turn it on.”

He just assumes I have one, and I grab and wind it. The faint light fills the small room full of piles of clothing that reach to the ceiling.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Storage.”

I don’t ask more. The room’s purpose isn’t important. Not with everything else going on.

“You were going to tell me about Drake,” I say.

He nods. “He’s good. Shooting up like a weed, and strong. You’d never know he was ever paralyzed.”

“Is he… is he happy?”

“How would I know?”

I look down.

He clears his throat. “He’s fine. Tell me about Zina.”

I look up. Burn’s arms are crossed over his chest and he’s scowling, looking even more intimidating than normal. “She pretended to be you. She said—” I stop myself from saying she’d claimed he had a new girlfriend. “She said you were a Shredder.” The words burst out and I shake my head and laugh. I’d forgotten that ridiculous taunt until now. “She said a lot of crazy things.”

His scowl darkens and fists form at his sides. “She and I don’t exactly—get along.”

“No kidding.” I don’t want to mention what she told me about Burn killing her brother. He probably already knows, and why bring up what I know is a painful memory? “She’s a terrorist. You need to tell Rolph.”

He looks up.

“Zina loosened bolts on some scaffolding in the Hub.”

“Why are you so sure Zina did that?”

My heart sinks. “You mean it was you?”

His nostrils flare. “Me?”

“I saw the security camera footage. It looked like you.”

He tips his head back. “Are you saying that the Comps think it was me?” His eyes narrow. “Great.”

“Scout was on the scaffolding.”

“Scout?”

“Cal’s brother.”

Burn’s shoulders twitch at Cal’s name and I swallow. “I think she did it to send me a message. To let me know she could hurt me.”

He shifts. “Not everything is about you, Glory.”

My cheeks burn. “It doesn’t matter why she did it. You need to report her to Rolph.” Once Burn tells Rolph, he’ll punish Zina, take her off active duty at a minimum.

He leans forward. “What makes you think Rolph doesn’t already know?”

“Rolph saw the security footage? You mean he already knows it was her and not you?” Smiling I shake my head. “I should have known Rolph would be on top of this. What’s he going to do to her?”

Burn’s chin rises slightly. “Why would he do anything? More likely Zina was acting under Rolph’s orders.”

I
STAGGER BACK
and sink into one of the piles of clothes and blankets. “That doesn’t make any sense.” My mind spins with fatigue and confusion.

Burn stays silent, watching me until I lose patience and push my way out of the soft stack and stride up to him. “Rolph would never have ordered Zina to sabotage the scaffolding. Not if he knew workers would be hurt. The FA would never do something like that. It was the terrorists.”

“Potato, potahto.”

“What does that mean?”

He shakes his head. “Just an old saying. Terrorists, freedom fighters, rebels, revolutionaries—it’s a matter of perspective.”

“Perspective? You’re kidding, right? People died.”

“It’s war, Glory. The FA is fighting Management to free every Haven employee. Not just one or two.”

“But sabotaging scaffolding, hurting innocent workers, makes the FA no better than the terrorists.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “No. The FA would never stoop to their level.” But I realize I barely know anything about the FA or their methods beyond doing extractions. I was recruited to help identify and save fellow Deviants, and Rolph refused to tell me about the big picture plans, in case I was caught. “The FA aren’t terrorists.”

Burn rakes his hair back. “Glory, Rolph sent me in here to make contact with the people you call terrorists so we can form an alliance. But the only name I have is Adele Parry, and I can’t find her.”

My breath catches. There’s so much I could tell Burn, but not until I know where he stands.

“Those people set off bombs, Burn. They hurt people. It doesn’t matter if we have the same goal. Their ends do not justify their means.”

“Don’t be naive.”

“I am not naive. And I’m not a killer.”

He raises his eyebrows.

I look away. We both know I’m a killer.

My mind reels with conflicting thoughts. How can I—someone who killed her own mother and took down at least three Shredders—be appalled by the terrorists’ tactics? But I am. What I did to my mother was an accident—I don’t even remember it happening—and when I killed the Shredders I was protecting people I love.

Plus, since meeting Mrs. Kalin, I’ve started to see
Management from another perspective. War isn’t the answer. Killing people isn’t the answer.

I straighten and clear my throat. “If that’s the kind of tactic the FA uses, you’re just as bad as Management.”

“The FA’s not like Management.” He steps forward. “Not even close.”

“Not everyone in Management is bad, you know. Not like you told me. Some of them see the problems in the current system and are trying to fix things—from the inside, without killing anyone.”

He grunts. “Management kills all the time. They target the weak and the sick and anyone they see as a threat.” He drops his head and his expression softens. “You know that.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore. But I do know that if Zina was acting under Rolph’s orders, the FA nearly killed Scout, and Management saved his life.”

Burn scoffs. “Saved his life?”

“In the Hospital.”

Burn looks at me like I’m stupid, and I can’t stand to look at him right now. I need to get away to think. I dive for the hatch but he grabs my legs and pulls me back. “You’re not going anywhere until you calm down.”

“Calm down?” I kick, connecting at least once. “Zina nearly killed my friend, Scout’s in the Hospital fighting for his life, and you tell me you think Zina was justified in what she did? How can you tell me to calm down? I thought you hated Zina.”

I struggle against his hold. My entire body’s like a pressurized valve about to explode.

He flips me onto my back, pins me by the shoulders, and I buck to get him off. But he straddles me, sitting on my hips. I can’t move. I’m better than this. He’s big but I should be able to get free.

I stop struggling to make him think I’ve given up. The second the pressure eases from my shoulders, I sit—sharply—and slam my forehead into his nose.

He swears, lifting one hand to quell the blood flowing onto my chest.

I twist, trying to get away, but he pins me again and then makes his first major mistake. He looks into my eyes.

The emotional fuel I need is at the surface and I’m locked onto Burn in seconds. Without targeting anything specific, I twist and squeeze, and the shock in his eyes turns to pain. He rolls onto his back, pulling me onto his chest.

Unable to bear the pain in his eyes, I close mine.

He throws me, and I land against one of the soft piles of fabric. Panting, I to catch my breath. I’m full of shame for hurting him, but still angry.

Burn leaps to his feet. “Don’t trust anyone in Management. They all lie.”

“
You
lie.
Rolph
lies. When I agreed to work for the FA, no one told me I signed on to hurt innocent people. I won’t be part of it.”

“You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“The FA did, though.”

He crouches in front of me and looks into my eyes—a
brave gesture, given what I’ve just done. “Think about the big picture. Think about the reality here and who you can trust. Management isn’t taking care of your friend in that Hospital. Don’t believe it for a second. He won’t survive. Not in there. Not as you knew him.”

I shake my head. “You’re wrong. I’ve seen him with my own two eyes. I went to the Hospital.”

Burn’s head snaps back and he frowns. “I don’t care what you think you saw in there. They controlled what you saw. Don’t trust
anyone
in Management. And don’t go into that Hospital again.” He stands and offers me his hand. “As for your friend, Scout, I’m sorry. But he’s as good as dead.”

“He’s not dead and I won’t give up on him.” And no matter what Burn says, tomorrow I’m going back to the Hospital—this time with Cal.

Burn helps me to my feet, then stays still, closer to me than he needs to. I can’t back away without falling into the fabric pile. Less than a foot separates our bodies, and I’m aware of every inch, every molecule of air bridging the distance.

My anger dissolves. It’s Zina I’m mad at—and maybe Rolph. I shouldn’t take it out on Burn who’s done so much for me and for Drake.

Burn, who went back for my mother’s ring.

That thoughtful gesture reminds me how I felt when he first held me in his arms, when we first kissed, when he pressed his body against mine on that rock by the lake. Cheeks hot, I look up.

He’s staring down at me, hunger in his eyes. “I’m sorry
about what happened. That day on the rock.” His voice is soft and deep. “I never meant to hurt you. I’ll never hurt you again.”

My heart thumps so loudly I can barely hear.

He leans toward me and it’s like time slows down. Instead of taking seconds, it takes minutes, hours, for him to close the space between us. The air grows thick. I can’t breathe.

I step to the side. “I’ve got to go.”

He averts his gaze. “Okay. I get it.”

But I don’t think he does. I don’t think he understands why I can’t stand so close to him, why I can’t let him kiss me. It’s not out of fear, not in the way he thinks.

I won’t betray Cal again, and even if Cal weren’t in the picture, I can’t think about all of this right now—not with so much else at stake: while Scout’s in the Hospital, and Jayma’s depressed, and there’s a mole inside COT, and terrorists are planning to bomb the Hub.

Nothing is easy anymore, nothing is black and white, and I feel as if my whole world has been yanked from beneath me, like I’m toppling end over end down a steep hill.

Burn’s staring at the ground, hands jammed into his pockets, and I hate that I’ve hurt him. “It was so good to see you,” I say, but my tone sounds phony and my heart thuds against my ribs. “I need to get back to the barracks before I’m caught.”