The Girl Who Dared to Think by Bella Forrest (best novels of all time TXT) 📗

back down to four, and then three all over again. And then where would I be?

“Yes,” I admitted after a pause, looking at him through my eyelashes. “I do. But… I’m having a hard time asking it.” He started to roll his eyes, and I impulsively took a step forward, grabbing his arm and looking at him. “I’m sorry, I just… feel like I’ve woken up in this stranger’s life, and I feel more out of place than I ever did before. I can’t remember anything from the past week, my mother is finally praising me, everyone is acting like I’m some sort of hero instead of the villain—which is also uncomfortable in its own right—and now I’m standing on a catwalk, unloading on a complete stranger I tried to arrest over a week ago, because I’m not sure what to do.”

I finished my rant right around the same time as my mind began to scream out an alert that maybe I shouldn’t be saying what I was saying, and I looked down, heat rising to my cheeks and pooling there, until I was sure they would start to smoke. Grey didn’t say anything, but a quick glance up told me he was watching me with an unmistakable look of sympathy. As soon as I tilted my chin up to confirm it, it disappeared behind a tight, neutral mask.

“Well, that was a lot to take in,” he said after a moment. He folded the knife and slipped it into his pocket, while depositing the apple core into another one. I watched as he turned to leave, my heart sinking into my stomach, the urge to kick the railing increasing with his every step as he walked away, when he suddenly called, “You coming or what?” over his shoulder.

I followed, my heart pounding in my chest as we quickly crossed the long catwalk until we were at the doorway at the other end and stepping into a wide space filled with pipes. They rumbled all around us with hidden floods, mirroring my own hammering heart.

Everything about him was just different. His cocky smile, his arrogant attitude—it was mysterious and intriguing. It was also the thing that made the nine on his wrist all the more wrong: he was just too full of life to hold a nine.

“Which medication do they have you on?” he asked loudly over the rattle and gurgle of the pipes.

“Peace,” I replied, tugging the edges of my uniform down self-consciously.

He shot me a glance over his shoulder, his brown eyes once again sympathetic. “They had me on that during my third treatment.”

I recognized the opportunity and seized it, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder while my other hand withdrew the little mystery pill of his that was still, thankfully, in my uniform’s pocket. It was odd, because it had been in a fresh suit, which meant Prim had been moving it, but she hadn’t done anything with or about it. Still, I was glad to find it there—I hadn’t intended to run into Grey, so hadn’t thought about where the pill could be.

“Is this the new medication they’ve got you on?” I asked, holding it up for him to see. “Are you testing it for them? What’s it like? You clearly still feel like you, don’t you? Just a happier you?”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“This pill?” I asked—practically shouted—as I held the pill in front of his face.

He looked at it, and his face paled slightly as his eyes took it in. “Where did you find that?” he asked sharply, reaching for it.

I held it back, clutching it in my fist. “Oh, no, you don’t,” I said, taking a step back. “Not until you tell me what it’s called and what program in the Medica is using it. How long have they been testing it? And—”

“That is my personal property, and it’s none of your business,” he said, his hand reaching out again. “Now, if you will—”

“No,” I said, evading his grasp. “I need you to tell me. I really don’t mean to embarrass you, but I need to know. What is this?”

Grey watched me, his entire posture indecisive. “I can’t tell you that,” he said after a moment, and I met his gaze.

“Why not?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the dampness of the previous room causing a few blond locks to stand up crooked, giving him a wild look. “It’s not my place to talk about it.”

“Whose is it?” I demanded.

He looked away. “I can’t tell you that, either.”

I let out a frustrated breath and tried not to growl. “What can you tell me?”

“That you should give me that pill and walk away from this. It’s dangerous.”

“That means illegal,” I said, and he winced painfully. “This isn’t from the Medica. You’re working with someone.”

“I’m done talking,” he said, turning to move away.

“Wait,” I cried, racing around him and blocking his path. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Just tell me about these pills! I can’t go back on Peace. But if I don’t, I know I’ll drop to a one before too long. I need something else, please. I can’t keep doing this.”

Grey clenched his jaw, his eyes looking up over my head, a vein in his forehead ticking. “You don’t understand; I can’t trust you. You’re a Squire. So please, leave me alone—before I’m forced to report you for harassing a nine.”

I gaped at him, surprised by the cruelty of the threat, and then got angry. He moved to push past me, and I slammed a hand on his chest and forced him back, shoving him into a wall. His eyes widened in surprise as I held him there.

“I need your help!” I said. He pushed against me, trying to get leverage to break the hold, but I resisted him, using a nearby pipe to brace my foot and keep him from moving.

He stopped, giving me a probing glance. “Look, I’m an apprentice to a rather eccentric