Page 13 of Jump or Fall
Mara nearly leapt out of her skin.
Just Gordon. Not Dawson.
“Sorry,” he said, offering a sheepish nod. The collar of his coat was popped up and his hair swept over to the right to conceal the scar.
He gestured ahead. “Uh… this way.”
They moved quickly toward the end of the block. The sun had fully set, and the streets were illuminated by the artificial glow of streetlights and muted advertisements. Division Two didn’t have to deal with the bright flashing neons like the others at night.
Divisions One and Two were always quiet after dark. Most people stayed inside—not only to stay out of trouble, but because of thenightly cleaning cycle. Bots moved methodically through the streets, collecting trash and scrubbing the pavement.
They didn’t speak. Block after block slipped by in silence, broken only by a few cars driving past.
Without warning, Gordon veered into a narrow alleyway, motioning for her to join him. She hesitated a beat before following.
He descended a stairwell tucked between two closed shops and stopped in front of a heavy slate-gray door.
Mara cast a quick glance over her shoulder. No one was watching. At least, no one she could see.
Gordon pulled a slim rectangular device from his pocket and slid it into the key slot. A green light blinked above the latch. Then, with a softclick, the lock disengaged and the door swung open.
Inside was a long, dimly lit tunnel.
Mara stood at the threshold, her heart thudding and her nerves frayed.
What am I doing?
Chapter 5
Mara
He gestured for her to go in first, and she stepped in. The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, sealing them inside a long tunnel with multiple branching paths.
He started forward, but she grabbed his arm. His gaze fell to where she had touched him, and she withdrew her hand.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
In a normal speaking voice, he replied, “We have a meeting.”
“With who?”
“There’s someone you need to speak with at one of our safe houses,” he said, pushing the collar of his coat down.
“Just tell me.”
Reluctantly, he answered, “Silva Lasko.”
Mara’s eyes widened. “FromHyperion?” Silva was the Master Gunsmith and a skilled prosthesis surgeon. He was responsible for fitting the Silvers with their finger implants.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “You wanted me to modify your suit and to be more involved. That requires working with other people.”
She took a step back. “I’m not doing this.” A cold wave of fear sent goosebumps across her arms. This wasn’t just a risky plan anymore—she might die. For some reason, the thought of seeing someone from Hyperion made it all more real.
“I was stupid to even let you keep talking when you broke in. You caught me on a horrible day, and I made an impulsive decision.”
He reached for her but quickly dropped his hand. “Don’t you want your own life?”
“I have my own life,” she snapped.
