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

suddenly spilling out of me, and Roark blinked in surprise, and then leaned closer. My eyes darted up to him, and then away. “My mentor killed her. Like she was nothing. Like she was worth nothing.” I paused, and then drew in a breath.

“Grey was dragged in after her body was taken out. My mentor told me I had to kill him. I refused. Now they are giving me a week to change my mind and conform.”

Roark’s expression changed. A seething, unbridled hatred formed in his eyes, making me terrified he would somehow make me combust right then and there. I leaned away from the intensity of it. As I did, he moved, so quickly it startled me, and it took me a moment to realize he was moving over to a pair of chairs against the wall, stacked high with boxes, rolled-up charts, papers, and a general assortment of junk. He started clearing the chairs, and then glanced up to give me a pointed look. It was, I thought, the least courteous offer to sit I had ever received—but considering the circumstances, I stepped in to help. Within a few minutes, we were both sitting down.

“Give me the details,” he said between clenched teeth, and I recounted each and every detail I could, especially regarding the woman’s symptoms. He asked the most questions about those, but I was unable to answer most of them, because I hadn’t noticed her fingertips or toes or black veins or anything like that.

We both fell silent for a long time after that—long enough for him to make me a cup of tea and for me to pull myself back together—and then he sat down again, clearing his throat.

“You had some questions for me,” he reminded me, and I nodded.

“How could Grey have gotten caught?” I asked. “Is it something I need to be worried about?”

Roark gave a huff of approval, and leaned forward. “You ask a lot of smart questions, girl. The only problem with smart questions is that they lead to dangerous answers.”

“I’m here for your help to break someone out of the Citadel,” I replied. “My life is not currently without danger.”

“Fair point. And to answer your question, yes, I think it is something you need to be worried about. Grey’s close call with you over a week ago proved to me something I had long suspected: the body builds up a resistance to the drug over time. It won’t last as long if you’re taking it every day. The same day you came by, I gave him a fresh bottle just to make sure he would be safe. And that was the only bottle I gave him that day.”

He gave me another pointed look, and I felt my stomach drop even lower as I realized the implications of what he was saying. I recalled Grey saying that he had sticky fingers, and had assumed that was how he’d get his own pills. Had he failed? Had he run out of time, or thought he had more time than he did? The bottle in my hand felt as though it were filled with rocks, uncomfortably heavy.

“I didn’t ask him to give me his,” I said, a bit defensively. “But he knew I was desperate and took pity on me. If you had helped me in the first place, then we wouldn’t be here right now!”

“That’s not useful,” he chided, and I fell silent. I was right, but he was right as well: none of that mattered now. “Do you have any more questions?”

“Maybe later,” I said, still dwelling on the fact that it was my fault Grey had gotten caught.

“Then allow me to indulge in a few more. What is Grey, to you?”

I looked away, confused by the question, and not afraid to admit it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... why are you doing this?”

I shook my head at him, my brows furrowing. “You’re joking, right? They’re killing people up there! I would want to do something no matter who they were.”

Roark blinked and cocked his head, his eyes appraising me, as if he had discovered some new and interesting facet to me that he hadn’t been expecting. I didn’t care. I was practically vibrating from my impatience. I had expected Roark to be a little more animated in his desire to rescue Grey. Now we were playing twenty questions regarding my motivations? He needed to take a hard look at his own before he started judging me.

“So, do you intend to try and rescue the others?” he asked.

I hesitated. I had considered that during my time in the plunge, and had come up with the sad truth that I couldn’t. I doubted I could even access the level without another Knight accompanying me, and I didn’t know the layout.

“No,” I admitted. “Grey is the only one I have access to, which means he is the only one I can save. But just because I know him doesn’t mean I’d give him preferential treatment. This is the opportunity I have.”

“He told me he kissed you,” Roark said softly. “You sure this isn’t some emotional romance thing?”

I flushed in anger and stood up. “Why the hell are you asking me this? I’m here because I’m not a killer!”

“Peace, girl. I was testing your resolve on this. I can’t have someone who will balk at the first drop of a hat.”

I pressed my lips together but let it pass. He didn’t know me, nor I him, so it was fair on his part to make sure I was made of strong enough stuff.

“You have a plan?” he asked.

“I was hoping you might have something you could give him,” I said. “There’s a way into the cell, and if I can figure out a reason or excuse to be inside, I can maybe slip it to him.”

Roark stood up out of his chair and moved back over to the workstation. “I do have something that can help him,” he said. “It’s a weakened version