Aimee Carter - Pawn

“There are a dozen people up there,” he said. “They make sure no one comes in who shouldn’t be here. Now come on. We don’t have much time.”

A dozen, undoubtedly all armed. I was so dizzy I could barely see straight, and Knox guided me forward through the seemingly endless hallway. The urge to turn around and bolt was overwhelming, but even if I did, Knox would catch me, and this was important. This was for Greyson. If they hadn’t shot us yet, chances were they wouldn’t unless I did something stupid. Like run.

Finally we reached the end of the corridor. It was another door, and this time there was a twelve-digit password. Knox punched it in effortlessly, and I purposely looked away, not wanting to risk the wrath of the guards above us.

Once we were inside, the hallway was much wider and brighter than the first. Doors lined the corridor, and when we passed a few that were open, I noticed that there was a bed, desk, and chair inside each room. Individual living quarters.

“Am I allowed to know what this place is now?” I said, but he smiled wanly and pressed on. The floor was concrete and the bedrooms weren’t fancy, but many of them looked lived in. As we passed another open door, however, there was no bed inside. Only rows and rows of weapons, bullets, helmets, and other things I couldn’t name.

We turned the corner, and I stopped when I saw a large common room area with a brightly lit kitchen that reminded me of my group home. A few people lounged on shabby chairs, and they all waved hello to Knox. None of them gave me a second look.

“Colonel Sampson,” said Knox to an official sitting behind a desk. On the screen in front of him was a map I didn’t recognize, but I was sure I’d seen him somewhere before. “Is she still here?”

Sampson stood hastily and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

I stared. The black uniform, the silver lining—

My eyes widened. He was the official who’d come to the group home with the Shield to arrest me.

No, not arrest me. They’d wanted to take me to Daxton.

“And no one leaked it?” he said. Sampson shook his head. “Good work, Colonel. Thank you.”

Knox took my arm and led me down another corridor, this one with the doors spread farther apart.

“Am I the only person in D.C. who didn’t know about this place?” I grumbled, and Knox ignored me. We turned again, and I began to figure out the pattern of the rooms. Even though the corridors were long, we were only walking the length of the building over and over again as the hallway snaked around itself.

“Who’s still here? Celia?” I said, but once again, Knox didn’t answer. Instead he stopped in front of a door that blended in with the others. When he knocked, I held my breath. Would Celia have taken Greyson someplace only a mile from Somerset when the entire country was looking for him?

The door opened a fraction of an inch, and no matter how I craned my neck, I couldn’t see around Knox. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

“I figured as much,” said a soft female voice on the other side. Celia. I narrowed my eyes. “What’s it about this time?”

“Can we please talk about this inside?” said Knox. “I don’t want anyone to overhear.”

“Did I not make myself clear when I said I didn’t want to be bothered?”

“This is important.”

“It’s always important.” She sighed. “What is it this time?”

“Greyson’s been kidnapped,” said Knox. “I need your help getting him back.”

The door opened immediately, and he stepped inside, motioning for me to follow. The room was bigger than I expected, with a dresser and a few colorful accents, and it felt much homier than the others we’d passed.

“God, Knox, you brought her? ”

I whirled around, fully prepared to tell Celia that I hadn’t exactly wanted to come, but my retort died on my lips when I saw who it was. Her blond hair was cropped to her shoulders, and she wore the kind of shabby clothes only IIs and IIIs were given, but her eyes were still the same ocean-blue as mine.

“Of course I brought her,” said Knox, and he made a vague gesture toward me. “This is Kitty. Kitty, this is—”

“I know who she is,” I said. “She’s Lila Hart.”

I stood still as Lila circled me. She studied every detail in my face, my hands, even going so far as to make me show her the tattoo on my hip. When she brushed my hair from the back of my neck to see my VII, I tensed.

“They did a remarkable job,” she said. She sounded exactly like her mother.

“Celia was there to make sure they got every detail right,” said Knox. He leaned against the closed door, his arms folded across his chest. “Kitty gave a speech this afternoon in New York in front of thousands. No one suspected a thing.”

“That’s incredible,” said Lila, touching the three ridges on the back of my neck. “Where did they find her?”

“They found her at an auction,” I snapped. “And they lied in order to get her to do this.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. They lie about everything. You didn’t tell my mother I was here, did you, Knox?”

He shook his head, and I gaped at them. “Wait—Celia doesn’t know you’re alive?”

“Of course not.” Lila made a face. “She’s half the reason I did this. She made me give her speeches because she thought everyone would like me better than her. The attention was nice, and of course it’s terrible what some of those people go through, but it wasn’t worth my life, you know?”

The attention was nice? I stared at her, speechless. Everything I’d done, all the risks I’d taken to live up to her ghost, and she hadn’t even wanted to do it in the first place.

“But—” I sputtered. “How could you say those things to all those people and not believe it?”

“Of course I believe it,” she said. “I wouldn’t have gone along with it if I didn’t, you know? But it was all Mom’s idea. And if she wants to be prime minister, she can go ahead and give her speeches herself.”

“ Her speeches?” I said. “But you’re the one—”

“They were all written by her,” said Lila, and she sighed, as if she’d explained this a dozen times before. “You have to understand—I love my mother, you know? But she ignored Grandmother’s warnings and insisted I stay and keep giving speeches. She said the rebellion was more important than any one life, even if it was mine. So—I mean, what would you do? Stick around? No, thank you.”

If Celia blamed herself for her daughter’s death, no wonder she’d become so unhinged. “So, what?” I said, deeply unimpressed. “You decided to run away and let your own mother think you were dead?”

“Yes,” she said. “Because I’d rather be on the run for the rest of my life than be eaten by worms.”

“Augusta suggested a trip to Aspen,” said Knox. “My father tipped us off about her plans, and Lila’s bodyguard volunteered to take her place.”

“Madison,” said Lila fiercely. “Her name was Madison, and she was my friend.”

“She wasn’t your friend. She was your double, and she had a sworn duty to protect you.”

“Double?” I said. I wasn’t the first to be Masked as Lila?

But both of them ignored me. “There were better ways to do it,” spat Lila.

“None that kept you alive,” said Knox.

“I don’t care. You should have warned me, and we could have come up with something else.”

“There was nothing else,” said Knox. “Madison knew what she was sacrificing, and she was happy to do it.”

“No one should have had to die for me,” she said viciously.

“No, she shouldn’t have, but it was our only choice. Your life was more important.”