Page 4 of Reckless
The wood lifts and my eyebrows do the same, shooting up my forehead in shock. I huff out a humorless laugh as I reach into the shadows of the compartment I didn’t know existed.
Silly of me to think that the Resistance was the only secret Father kept from me.
My fingers brush worn leather before I pull out a large book, stuffedwith papers that threaten to spill out. I flip through it, recognizing the messy handwriting of a Healer.
Father’s journal.
I shove it into my pack, knowing I don’t have the time or safety needed to study his work now. I’ve been here too long, spent too many days wounded and weak and worrying that I’ll be found.
The Sight who witnessed me murder the king has likely displayed that image all over the kingdom. I need to get out of Ilya, and I’ve already wasted the head startheso graciously gave me.
I make my way to the door, ready to slip out and onto the streets where I can disappear into the chaos that is Loot. From there, I’ll attempt to head across the Scorches to the city of Dor, where Elites don’t exist and Ordinary is all they know.
Reaching for the door and the quiet street beyond—
I halt, hand outstretched.
Quiet.
It’s nearly midday, meaning Loot and its surrounding streets should be a swarm of swearing merchants and squealing children as the slums buzz with color and commotion.
Something’s not right—
The door shudders, something—someone—ramming into it from the outside. I jump back, eyes darting around the room. I contemplate ducking down the secret stairwell to the room beneath that held the Resistance meetings, but the thought of being cornered down there makes me queasy. That’s when my gaze snaps to the fireplace, and I sigh in annoyance despite my current situation.
How do I always find myself in a chimney?
The door breaks open with a bang before I’ve barely shimmied halfway up the grimy wall, my feet planted on either side of me while bricks dig into my back.
Brawny.
Only an Elite with extraordinary strength would be able to smash through my barricaded and bolted door so quickly. The sound of heavy boots has me figuring that five Imperials have just filed into my home.
“Don’t just stand there. Search the place and convince me that you’re useful.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of that cool voice, the one I’ve heard sound like both a caress and a command. I stiffen, slipping slightly down the sooty wall.
He’s here.
The voice that follows is gravelly, belonging to an Imperial. “You heard the Enforcer. Get a move on.”
The Enforcer.
I bite my tongue, whether to keep myself from letting out a bitter laugh or a scream, I’m not sure. My blood boils at the title, reminding me of everything he’s done, every bit of evil he’s committed in the shadow of the king. First for his father, and now for his brother—thanks to me ridding him of the former.
Except he’s not thanking me. No, he’s come to kill me instead.
“Maybe when I rid myself of you, I’ll find my courage. So I’m giving you a head start.”
A lot of good his head start has done me.
I can’t risk being heard scrambling up the chimney, so I wait, listening to heavy footsteps stomping through the house in search of me. My legs are beginning to shake, straining to hold me up while my every wound has me wincing in pain.
“Check the bookcases in the study. There should be a secret passage behind one,” the Enforcer commands dryly, soundingbored.
Once again, I find myself stiffening. A Resistance member musthave confessed that little secret after he tortured it out of them. My pulse quickens at the thought of the fight after the final Trial in the Bowl when Ordinaries, Fatals, and Imperials clashed in a bloody battle.
A bloody battle that I still don’t know the outcome of.
