Page 11 of Dark Reign

Hearing this didn’t sway her even a little.

“No way. It’s a double risk. One: climbingonthat thing. Two: you’re racing Ianites, for Pete’s sake, Cori! It doesn’t get any stupider than that. What if you fall and injure yourself? You and I both know, as sophisticated as those things pretend to be, at the first hint of blood they forget all that fancy talk, and restraint and they’re as bad as roamers. A vampire is a vampire, no matter what they call themselves.”

She was right. I never doubted for a second that she was, but I also knew I wasn’t wrong either. The raceswerea huge payday for us. On more than one occasion, my win had been the reason we ate for the next few months, and had money to bargain with to get the next list of transport candidates. While I understood why she didn’t think I could afford to enter again, I was also painfully aware of why I couldn’t affordnotto do it.

“Just … think about it,” I said, hoping to appease her by making it seem like her decision might make a difference. When, in actuality, my mind was already made up about it.

She nodded, agreeing to these terms.

I breathed deep, rubbing Riot’s head again when she leaned into me. “How’s HIN-016565 coming along?”

“Her name’s Sara, and she’s doing fine,” Liv replied with a faint smile. “Banks got her settled in sector seven, she’s been fed and some of the other kids are already starting to warm up to her.”

“And the team? Is everyone as pissed at me as you are?”

The hint of a smile was back. “From what I can tell, no one else is holding a grudge, but I assure you I’m only mad because you’re stupid,” she reasoned. “And because I love you.”

Riot rested her chin on my knee when I laughed.

“Back at ya.”

I stood. It was a wobbly, inelegant maneuver, but I was on my feet. Riot was at my side, insisting we take every single step in tandem.

“Need help?” Liv was already coming closer.

“I’m okay.”

She let me walk on my own, but I felt her watchful gaze the entire way—from the infirmary where I’d been left to recover, to the space we’d dubbed as our command center. The others were all there. Shay, O.C., Jonesy, and Alex were at each other’s throats over an intense game of spades. Poor Banks had been recruited as Felix’s lacky, assisting him as he tweaked the … the thingamajig that made it possible for us to tap into restricted airwaves.

The Ianites were incredibly clear regarding their ban on humans’ use of communicative technology without supervision. Televisions were included in that ban, an attempt to keep us in the dark when it came to world news. An attempt at further control.

As if five-hundred years of enslavement hadn’t been control enough.

“How goes it, Boss Lady? Feeling better?” Banks asked, adjusting the band that held long, blond dreadlocks away from his face.

I grimaced at the term he insisted on using, and with the wave of my hand, I dismissed his concern.

“Just another day,” I replied, anxious to change the subject to something other than me, other than my health. “How’s the signal coming? Think you’ll have it up in time for the Address?”

Sighing, Felix paused to run a hand through the thick, dark curls cropped close to his scalp. He then pushed a pair of blue-framed glasses further up his nose, before going back to banging the contraption he held with a rubber mallet.

“Well … considering we still have an hour until it starts, we’re in good shape,” he replied.

Shay huffed, fidgeting with the trail of small, silver hoops that adorned the rim of her ear. Her entire bodywas decorated—from piercings in her nose, brow, ears, and lip, to the two blue French braids that rested over her shoulders. More color saturated her skin, an array of tattoos that told her story.

“I don’t get why we have to watch this crap anyway,” she complained.

“Because knowledge is power,” Liv chimed in, beating me to that exact answer.

“Yeah, but I’m with Shay,” Jonesy rebutted. “Who needs a freakin’ State of the Die-Nasty Address, when we already have a pretty good idea how things are going? I mean, we’re slumming it underground in an elaborate, military bunker, and that qualifiesusas the ones living the good life. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

Laughter echoed around the room before a rousing, “We’re in!” from Felix.

Half a second later, fuzzy shapes and colors popped up on the overhead screen. Finding a nearby seat, I got comfortable. Riot wasn’t far away, of course. In fact, she sat directly on my foot and showed no signs of moving.

Before long, there were voices and the picture cleared considerably. Those fuzzy shapes and colors were now figures—two Ianite newscasters with fake smiles plastered on their faces, exchanging lighthearted banter and perky laughter.

I stared at them, their pale skin, the crimson centers of their eyes, and the expensive clothing and jewels they wore. The sight of them always triggered my fight or flight mechanism. Even when they weren’t in the vicinity, but seated comfortably inside some distant production studio.

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