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

him and the button. What I did remember was his wrist in my hand, and the look of utter shock on his face.

“This needs to be done, Liana,” he said, clearly baffled by my intervention. “You’re not ready.”

“You gave me a week,” I informed him. “You promised me a week.”

“I did,” he said, pulling his wrist from my grasp and straightening. “But it’s clear that you—”

“You gave me a week,” I repeated roughly, not offering much in the way of leniency. “To think it over. You need to honor that promise.”

He gave me a long, considering look, and it took me a moment to realize that he was impressed. The realization left me feeling a little hollow. Two weeks ago, I would’ve given my right arm for Gerome’s approval. But now he was a murderer, trying to pressure me into becoming a murderer as well. I hated that he looked impressed because of the behavior I was exhibiting—almost as much as I hated carrying on this façade of being a good soldier.

And I hated seeing Grey in that cell even more, which was what made all of the negativity I was experiencing worth it.

“Very well, Squire,” Gerome said with a nod. “You have six more days to execute him. I hope, for his sake, that you do so sooner rather than later.”

I let any retort I had turn to ash in my mouth as I left, barely managing to make it to the lift and away from Gerome before I started running, putting as much distance between me and the Citadel as possible.

I navigated the halls, bridges, and lifts instinctively. My destination was largely unplanned—I just needed to get away—and somehow, I found myself perched on a portion of the shell that didn’t quite line up with the levels above, creating a narrow, flat ledge that was about three feet deep, and had no railings to prevent the very sharp drop of 156 stories. Zoe, Eric, and I had discovered it after a run-in with a group of Kits—trainees from the Cog department. It was one of the only places you could find complete and utter privacy.

I anchored myself to the wall using my lashes and then massaged my burning thighs, staring out at the three buildings with my eyes on the Citadel, and focusing on the lowermost level, where Grey was sitting in a tiny cell, waiting to die.

I pulled out the small silver pill case and opened it up to stare at the small, circular pill inside, then closed it with a snap and slipped it back into my pocket. I was disappointed I hadn’t been able to get in to see him, but I wasn’t ready to give up. There had to be a way to get the pill to him. Maybe there was an access hatch or something.

It was frustrating knowing that someone was going to die, and having time to do something about it but seeing the only plan I could come up with fail miserably. The irony that bureaucracy and protocols were costing him his life twice over was not lost on me. But that didn’t help me see a way out of this mess.

The sound of grating caught my ears and a familiar voice spoke from behind me. “So are you mad, or are you just having a bad day?”

I turned to confirm Zoe’s presence, and then nodded for her to sit down, still not ready to speak—but grateful that I wasn’t alone.

I heard the slight squeak of her wetsuit as she moved and dropped down onto the ledge next to me, letting her legs swing free. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t tell you,” I replied automatically, and then flinched. Zoe didn’t take well to being told what she could and couldn’t know.

It was no surprise, therefore, when she chose to pry anyway. “Yes, you can,” she said, emphasizing the “yes”. “There’s something going on with you, Liana. I’ve noticed it ever since that morning you showed up looking and feeling like your old self. Something is getting you down, girl, and that’s not good for that shiny new nine of yours.”

“Someone is in trouble,” I blurted out, and then clapped a hand over my mouth in an attempt to pull the words back in. But it was impossible.

Zoe sat up straight, her pouty lips pulled downward into a frown. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed and looked at my feet, torn. I desperately needed her help and her advice, but I couldn’t bear involving her in it. She could get hurt—or worse, wind up in a cell much like Grey’s.

“Zoe, I’m sorry, but I—”

“You know what? Save it,” she said, climbing back up to her feet next to me. “I’m your best friend, and I know when something is wrong with you. First your drama about that boy and your number, and then you show up a nine. You left class and never came back, and you never netted me to tell me what happened and why Gerome wanted to see you—and you’ve never done that. Is it the Medica medication? Is this Prim 2.0? I was so worried about you after Gerome hauled you out! And you didn’t even let me know you were okay!”

I let her rant, watching as she spoke passionately, with the snappish temper that ran in the Cog-bred part of her, and all I could feel was tired and depressed. The problems between us were insignificant compared to what I had seen, and I felt as if I couldn’t even pay much attention to them.

“Zo, you don’t understand,” I tried again, and I could already see the dark storm clouds of her retort beginning to build. I paused and then looked away, letting whatever sketch of an idea I had about what to say evaporate.

“Explain it to me,” she demanded, dropping back down next to me and craning her neck and head out into open air to get a fuller view of my face. I slid a long lock of