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agrees. This one, for example, skipped restructuring per Scipio’s orders. This one is for you to kill, Liana. Now, I suppose I can give you some time to come to terms with what you have to do, but I can only keep him aside for you for a week. After that, he’s overstayed his welcome.”

He smiled at his own quip, and I felt a surge of revulsion at how casually he could joke about such things. It was all I could do to hold it together.

Looking at Grey, believe it or not, helped steady me. I had bought time, and no small amount. Now I just needed to come up with a way to get him out of there.

I watched as he settled onto the floor and began staring up at the ceiling with a frustrated look on his face. He never gave any indication that he had seen me, confirming my suspicion that the glass was one-way. I felt a brief flash of anger as I realized the Knights not only murdered, but they did it like cowards. Then I put the feeling aside. Anger wouldn’t help me or Grey now. The glass was one-way, and that was a good thing, I hoped. I wasn’t sure how yet, but there was an advantage, I was sure about it.

I thought of Grey and wondered if he knew that just beyond the vents, a mass of poison was waiting for him. Then I thought of myself and hoped I’d be enough to stop it.

He’s yours to kill.

Those words echoed around in my head until they were all I could hear.

I couldn’t remember walking back to the elevator. Nor getting off at my level and entering my home. I didn’t remember taking off my uniform, crumpling it into a ball, and tossing it away. All I could remember was feeling cold, like an icy needle had been plunged into my heart and frostbite was radiating down into the rest of me, threatening to petrify me to a block of ice.

I came to in my bed, the blankets hauled up over my head and my knees drawn to my chest. The reality was there, unforgotten, but somehow I managed to channel the ice that had been threatening to freeze me earlier into some semblance of control.

“Contact Alex Castell, IT47-4B,” I said aloud, tapping the indicator with my finger, and I felt the net buzz under my command. It was dangerous to reach out this way, but I had to trust that Alex would immediately delete the conversation between us as soon as it was finished. He would’ve done it last time, after mentioning the problem with Scipio. And he would do it again.

The net buzzed, and then a soft computer voice informed me that he was unavailable. I felt a burn of annoyance—he could always remotely activate my indicator to connect his call, but, I didn’t have that ability, which meant, to be fair, he needed to take the damn net whenever it was me. I almost tried again, but stopped when I realized that if I pushed too hard it would draw too much attention. I canceled the order and ran a hand down my face, trying to think of a way to get in touch with him without drawing attention to myself.

A soft knock on the door sounded, and I looked up, my heartbeat increasing. Gerome changed his mind and is making me do it tonight, I thought, and I trembled and scooted away from the door.

“Liana?” My mother’s voice was muffled through the door, but I was instantly relieved to hear it. She’ll know what to do.

I got up and crossed over to the door. I almost threw it open immediately, but caution held me back. I couldn’t explain it, but something told me to wait to see what my mother wanted before blurting out the problems I had with what I had seen today.

I pushed the button, and the door slid open, revealing both my parents standing there, their faces expectant. I was immediately on guard.

“Aren’t you both supposed to be on duty?” I asked, realizing the time.

They looked at one another, then smiled at me.

“Gerome told us you were performing your first expulsion today,” my mother said, and I blanched.

“We wanted to be here for you when you got home, but it seems you beat us here,” my father said, his voice soft. He stepped forward, his eyes careful but undeniably excited. “How did it go?”

I stared at them, too horrified to speak. They knew. They did it.

“With Gerome,” my father added, tilting his head. “Did I get the day wrong?”

“No, dear,” my mother said. “It was today. Gerome netted me a confirmation.” She angled her head toward me. “Did something come up?”

“No.” It was easy enough to get the word out, because I was screaming it on the inside. There was a bitterness to it, if I thought about it. Of course they knew about it. Of course they had done it. They were Knight Commanders, and Gerome’s equals (although Father had trained him). They had always known. Why else would they be so eager to put me in the Medica? They had known the fate that would have been in store for me if I hadn’t improved my ranking. If I hadn’t met Grey and gotten those pills. And now he was going to die, and they expected me to kill him.

“I didn’t do it,” I finally told them, my gaze meeting theirs headlong in open challenge.

My mother’s eyes flashed in alarm at the defiance I’m sure she saw there, but my father nodded sympathetically. “Gerome had a hard time at first, as well,” he said. “He’s a compassionate man, as you are a compassionate young girl. Believe me, dear, after this time you don’t ever have to do it again, if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t?” I asked. “Then what if I don’t want to hurt anyone the first time? Dad, this is wrong.”

“No, this

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