Page 74 of The Sin

She was refined elegance.

General Bickens was head of the Guard.

Mrs. Bickens, as I’d so recently discovered, obviously held an elevated position in the Sisterhood.

That right there, the two of them, was a parody of mind-boggling proportions, a parody in motion on the dancefloor.

And the sight of them, the reminder that Mrs. Bickens was married to the head of the Guard, rooted my commitment to the decision I’d made. The Sisters of Capra were everywhere, embedded into the highest ranks of our society. I hadn’t heard from Rose or Geneva again, but they knew what had to be done with the information I’d handed them. And they had the means, the powerful connections, to do it right.

A crackling sound reverberated from the hall’s speakers. The music continued, and the dancing couples kept spinning, then a long, persistent beep jarred the eloquent flow of the room. The music faltered and the confused dancers came to a staggered halt.

The large screen on the wall behind the string quartet flickered to life. I assumed the interruption was a planned screening, some pre-recorded celebration video, although the segue could have been more elegant.

A moment later, my face filled the screen. Everything inside me went absolutely still. There was no thought, no breath, no heartbeat.

Roman’s arms around me firmed, and brought me back. I blinked. And breathed. My heartbeat returned with a vengeance, screaming through my blood as the screening zoomed out to show more—of me—wearing the off-pink hoodie I’d worn that day, and sitting in that chair with my back to the bland, white wall.

This was bad.

Very bad.

Then I started talking treason.

“I’ve been outside the walls.” My eyes stared forward, narrowed on Geneva. The video camera must have been directly behind her, but where? How could anything hide between those white, seamless walls?

“I’ve seen across the bridge to the Outerlands,” I continued in that pronounced, defensive voice. “It isn’t dead. It isn’t empty. I’ve been to The Smoke.”

The video cut from there in a smooth transition to, “The Eastern Coalition has a medical process that allows them to override natural gender selection. They’ve found a way to improve the odds of a baby being born female. They use it in The Smoke. That’s why there are so many women there. As many women as there are men, if not more.”

“We have to go,” Roman said in a low, urgent voice near my ear, his arms falling away from me as he turned.

He grabbed my hand, dragging me along until my own reaction caught up to the urgency and matched his hurried pace.

My body was wracked with tension.

My nerves were taut strings on a violin, each step toward the exit winding them tighter and tighter.

“It’s all lies,” my voice rang out from behind, the video transitioning smoothly again to cut and skip as it wanted.As Geneva wanted.“Our eggs don’t start off rotten.”

My feet itched to tear through the mingling guests like a whirlwind, but I understood why we were walking fast and not running. We didn’t want to draw attention from the scandalous screening to us. Some gazes did snap to us as we snaked a path between the guests, but they didn’t seem inclined to act.

Then it happened.

“Seize them!” a loud voice bellowed.

We broke into a sprint, Roman’s grip locking my palm to his. I shot a glance over my shoulder, I had to, and I saw General Bickens stomping from the dancefloor, his hand raised at us, the look on his face apoplectic.

I turned forward as we dashed through the arched doorway, and slammed up against a wall of guards. They seemed as surprised by the collision as us. What the hell? There weren’t as many as there had been in the standing parade, but the half dozen converging on the doorway were enough to block us. They didn’t seem to know what to do with us, though. Or maybe they hadn’t yet realized that the “Seize them,” was meant for us.

Roman took advantage of the confusion. We couldn’t go through them, so he pulled me left into a sprint down a side passage leading off from the vestibule. It took a few seconds, and another, “Seize them!” before the stampede of boots pounded the wooden floorboards behind us.

I didn’t look.

We sped around a corner, and my ankle nearly turned out from under me.

“Wait!” I snatched my hand from Roman’s grip and kicked off my strapless heels. They weren’t spikes, but no heels were made for running.

We raced down a corridor of closed doors. I’d never been this deep into the building, but my father worked from here, and I knew it housed a warren of council and departmental offices.

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