Page 15 of The Tower

"No. I meant, why did you take her?" he cuts me off. "You know there was nothing about kidnapping a girl in our contract. We were sent there to eliminate our targets and get the hell out as quickly as possible."

I bite my lips, cursing myself for not having a good excuse for any of this. The more time passes, the more I find myself unwilling to seal Libby's fate by disclosing her name to any of the Covey members. After all that has happened, I don't know how I would handle a direct order to kill her.

And I'm pretty sure that's what I'd be facing if they knew.

"Do you know her or some shit?"

Tom's question sparks an idea.

"If I tell you, can you promise to keep your mouth shut?" I ask, lowering my voice to emphasize the mystery.

"You know I never can," Tom replies. "Not if she poses any danger to the Covey."

"She doesn't," I lie. "And I'll get her away as soon as she's ready for transport."

"Mmmhmm." Tom doesn't sound convinced. "So, she an old friend or what?"

"Something like that," I murmur. "She had nothing to do with the mission. I can tell you that much."

There I go. This must have been the time I openly lied to a member of the Covey. And it may very well be the first step to digging my own grave.

Shit.

"Fine," Tom says. "Just make sure she doesn't get in the way when we need you."

"She won't."

Another lie.

I hang up quickly as if that would make the problem go away.

I feel the walls closing in on me, even after a conversation as harmless as the one I just had with Tom. I knew I couldn't stay here forever, and I knew I had to do something about her.

A decision. Any decision will do.

I pace through the dirt behind the warehouse where she's being kept, raking my fingers through my buzz cut with an exasperated sigh. This shouldn't be so hard. I should've told them right away. I should have given Tom her name right there on the roof, and he would have taken things out of my hands. He might have shot her right then and there, or people would have been waiting for us down on the ground to take matters into their hands if I insisted on bringing her down with me.

I wouldn't have been the one to make that call.

But now, I am.

Chapter 9

Libby

"We're leaving."

That's it. That's all he says upon entering my room in a hurry. He's wearing a heavy leather jacket and a black knit cap and carrying a pile of clothes as he approaches my bed.

"Get up."

I cast him a confused look, my heart racing in fear. Why is he in such a hurry? And how on earth does he think I could ever keep up with the speed he demands of me right now? It's only been four days since the event, and while I'm no longer as heavily sedated as I was in the beginning, I'm still far from healed. Even taking a few steps around the room every now and then has taken its toll on me, leaving me breathless after just a few minutes.

"I-I can't," I stutter, sucking in a sharp breath of air when he pulls my covers aside.

I'm wearing nothing but a lightweight hospital gown, barely reaching down to my knees. Nothing else, not even underwear. I don't know what happened to the clothes I was wearing on the night I was brought here. I'm assuming they're ruined anyway—at least the dress—but I've always wondered whether not providing me with a decent option of clothes was part of their way to keep me at bay and prevent me from fleeing.

Not that that has ever been an option. As soon as I was able to get out of the bed on my own, stalking on my legs like a newborn deer with my head heavy and dizzy, I tried to open the door. Of course, it was locked. Every single time anybody walked in or out of my room, I heard the lock turn, reminding me there was nowhere for me to go. Unless, of course, I managed to overpower the person as they were stepping in like they do in the movies.

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