The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📗

said, then, you meant it. I’m a traitor. Is that right?”

“You saw that.” Ona didn’t move. She stared out over the city, the breeze toying with her hair. My eyes stung, and her image doubled.

“Traitors die for their crimes. You want me dead too?”

“I never said that.” Ona still didn’t move, but I saw her jaw tighten. Her breathing stuttered and slowed.

“You know what I think?” I came up beside her and leaned on the railing, my shoulder to hers, her hair brushing my cheek. Ona said nothing, so I slid my hand over hers. “I think I hurt you. I know I did. I hurt you bad, running off the way I did, leaving you by yourself. You were scared—”

“I was not.”

“—and I own that. That’s on me. But if you wanted me dead—if you wanted me gone, even—all you’d have to do is scream. The guards would come running, and pfft. Goodbye, Myla.”

“I could kill you myself. Throw you over the railing.” She jerked her hand loose and pressed it to my back. “One push. Just one. Should I try?”

I shook her off and stepped back. “Don’t make empty threats.”

“It’s not empty.” Her voice rose at last, turning strident. “I’m not a kid. I’m fifteen, and you’re seventeen, and you don’t know everything. You don’t know half what you think you do. You run around acting like some kind of savior, but really, you’re—”

“Lock’s dying.”

Ona covered a gasp. “That’s not true.”

“It is. And it’s all Lazrad’s fault. She shut off his nanobots. In a day, maybe two—”

“That’s not true.” She flew at me, pushed me, palms striking my chest. The breath coughed out of me and she pushed me again. “You’re lying. You’re still lying. You’ll say anything, do anything, whatever it takes, so long as you get your way.” She punched me this time, one hand on my shoulder, a fist to my gut. I stood there and took it, let her work out her rage. Her sharp sobs rattled in her throat. Her head dropped to my shoulder, and I held her close. I stroked her carefully, long tracks down her back.

“I love you,” I said. “And I’ve lied to you. That’s true. But me here, tonight—”

“Don’t.” I felt her tears on my neck, stinging with salt.

“Just come with me.” I raised her up gently, urged her toward the stairs. “Whatever it takes, I’ll make it up to you. For the lies, for the ball, for... For your whole life.” I choked on the lump in my throat, swallowed it down. “I know it was hard on you, having to hide me. Knowing what would happen if Lazrad found out. You never signed up for that. You didn’t deserve it.”

Ona looked up at me, and I felt my heart break. She looked young in that moment, and achingly hopeful. I wanted to scoop her up, make everything better.

“What about Mom and Dad?” Her lower lip trembled. “And your gran. We can’t leave her. They’ll come for her too.”

My chest swelled with gratitude, that she’d think of Gran. I took her by the hand and reached for the door. “We’ll grab them too. We’ll all go together. I promise—”

A great, coughing roar rose from under the earth. The tower shook beneath us, and I swayed on my feet. Ona’s face twisted, her whole body, and I saw Lazrad in her eyes. She hit me again, sent me hurtling into the door.

“More lies. I knew it.” She laughed, high and harsh. “Here for me, are you?” Ona pushed me again, and my head rang on metal. “I was wrong. You’re no traitor. You’re a terrorist, plain and simple.”

I caught at her wrists, uselessly flailing. Ona’s fist plowed the door, hard enough to go through it.

“Guards!”

“No! Ona, please. It’s not what you—”

She screamed, and my ears rang. I froze, blood curdling, and she kicked my feet out from under me, drove me to my knees. Her hand was bleeding, and she held it up to the light.

“This is on you,” she said, and she smeared her thumb down my cheek. I felt the slick of her blood, and smelled battle and copper.

“Ona.”

She tapped on her phone, and a siren howled to life. “Get up,” she said. “Go on, run. Isn’t that what rats do?”

“Ona—”

“Or are you going to make me watch you die?”

I reached for her. “Come with me.”

“No.” She jerked the door open and booted me through. I staggered and fell, and by the time I was up, she’d locked the door behind her. I peered through the hole she’d made, but she was nowhere. She'd vanished. Somewhere, a shout rang out, and my time was up.

I plunged down the stairs, nearly flying. The the landings were filling, guards and their blasters swarming up from below. A bolt hit the ceiling, raining concrete on my shoulders. Smoke stung my eyes, then the smell hit—burning and dust, ozone, fear. I doubled back through a gray door, into a gray hall, and a pale man shrieked and dropped his coffee on the floor. It splattered, and I went for him, caught him by his belt, and swung him flush to my chest.

“I need to get to the Dirt. How would I do that without getting shot?”

“You—you’re that—” He struggled against me. Hot piss pattered on my boot. I dug in my nails and gave him a shake.

“I won’t hurt you,” I said. “You don’t need to be scared. Just tell me—”

“The sub-basement, B2. There’s a train into quarantine. You can get down from there.”

“Perfect. Come on.” I hustled him down the hall, toward the elevators. White faces ducked into doorways, rats in their holes. I ignored them, ran faster, my captive blundering ahead of me.

“Let me go. You don’t need me. I can’t—”

“I take all of you, or I’ll take your retinas. What’ll it be?”

He squeaked and stopped struggling. A door slammed open behind us. I didn’t turn around. Threats were one thing, scaring the piss out of some Lofty.