I don’t remember what it means to breathe.
I never
ever
ever
knew
what it meant to feel.
An alarm is hammering through the walls.
The room beeps and blares to life and Adam stiffens, pulls back; his face collapses.
“This is a CODE SEVEN. All soldiers must report to the Quadrant immediately. This is a CODE SEVEN. All soldiers must report to the Quadrant immediately. This is a CODE SEVEN. All soldiers must report to the Quadra—”
Adam is on his feet and pulling me up and the voice is still shouting orders through a speaker system wired into the building. “There’s been a breach,” he says, his voice broken and breathy, his eyes darting between me and the door. “Jesus. I can’t just leave you here—”
“Go,” I tell him. “You have to go—I’ll be fine—”
Footsteps are thundering through the halls and soldiers are barking at each other so loudly I can hear it through the walls. Adam is still on duty. He has to perform. He has to keep up appearances until we can leave. I know this.
He pulls me close. “This isn’t a joke, Juliette—I don’t know what’s happening—it could be anything—”
A metal click. A mechanical switch. The door slides open and Adam and I jump 10 feet apart.
Adam rushes to exit just as Warner is walking in. They both freeze.
“I’m pretty sure that alarm has been going off for at least a minute, soldier.”
“Yes sir. I wasn’t sure what to do about her.” He’s suddenly composed, a perfect statue. He nods at me like I’m an afterthought but I know he’s just slightly too stiff in the shoulders. Breathing just a beat too fast.
“Lucky for you, I’m here to take care of that. You may report to your commanding officer.”
“Sir.” Adam nods, pivots on one heel, and darts out the door. I hope Warner didn’t notice his hesitation.
Warner turns to face me with a smile so calm and casual I begin to question whether the building is actually in chaos. He studies my face. My hair. Glances at the rumpled sheets behind me and I feel like I’ve swallowed a spider. “You took a nap?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“You’ve ripped your dress.”
“What are you doing here?” I need him to stop staring at me, I need him to stop drinking in the details of my existence.
“If you don’t like the dress, you can always choose a different one, you know. I picked them out for you myself.”
“That’s okay. The dress is fine.” I glance at the clock for no real reason. It’s already 4:30 in the afternoon. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
He’s too close. He’s standing too close and he’s looking at me and my lungs are failing to expand. “You should really change.”
“I don’t want to change.” I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Why he’s making me so nervous. Why the space between us is closing too quickly.
He hooks a finger in the rip close to the drop-waist of my dress and I bite back a scream. “This just won’t do.”
“It’s fine—”
He tugs so hard on the rip that it splits open the fabric and creates a slit up the side of my leg. “That’s a bit better.”
“What are you doing—”
His hands snake up my waist and clamp my arms in place and I know I need to defend myself but I’m frozen and I want to scream but my voice is broken broken broken. I’m a ragged breath of desperation.
“I have a question,” he says, and I try to kick him in this worthless dress and he just squeezes me up against the wall, the weight of his body pressing me into place, every inch of him covered in clothing, a protective layer between us. “I said I have a question, Juliette.”
His hand slips into my pocket so quickly it takes me a moment to realize what he’s done. I’m panting up against the wall, shaking and trying to find my head.
“I’m curious,” he says. “What is this?”
He’s holding my notebook between 2 fingers.
Oh God.
This dress is too tight to hide the outline of the notebook and I was too busy looking at my face to check the dress in the mirror. This is all my fault all my fault all my fault all my fault I can’t believe it. This is all my fault. I should’ve known better.
I say nothing.
He cocks his head. “I don’t recall giving you a notebook. I certainly don’t remember granting you allowance for any possessions, either.”
“I brought it with me.” My voice catches.
“Now you’re lying.”
“What do you want from me?” I panic.
“That’s a stupid question, Juliette.”
The soft sound of smooth metal slipping out of place. Someone has opened my door.
Click.
“Get your hands off of her before I bury a bullet in your head.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Warner’s eyes close very slowly. He steps away very slowly. His lips twitch into a dangerous smile. “Kent.”
Adam’s hands are steady, the barrel of his gun pressed into the back of Warner’s skull. “You’re going to clear our exit out of here.”
Warner actually laughs. He opens his eyes and whips a gun out of his inside pocket only to point it directly at my forehead. “I will kill her right now.”
“You’re not that stupid,” Adam says.
“If she moves even a millimeter, I will shoot her. And then I will rip you to pieces.”
Adam shifts quickly, slamming the butt of his gun into Warner’s head. Warner’s gun misfires and Adam catches his arm and twists his wrist until his grip on the weapon wavers. I grab the gun from Warner’s limp hand and slam the butt of it into his face. I’m stunned by my own reflexes. I’ve never held a gun before but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
I point it at Warner’s eyes. “Don’t underestimate me.”
“Holy shit.” Adam doesn’t bother hiding his surprise.
Warner coughs through a laugh, steadies himself, and tries to smile as he wipes the blood from his nose. “I never underestimate you,” he says to me. “I never have.”
Adam shakes his head for less than a second before his face splits into an enormous grin. He’s beaming at me as he presses the gun harder into Warner’s skull. “Let’s get out of here.”