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

“Good. Now tell me we’re going to Roark to get looked at.”

“We are. We’re going to have to—”

Whatever else he was going to say was lost when I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye.

I jerked back, my baton coming out in a flash of blue as I stepped around Grey, pushing him behind me. He made a surprised sound, but I ignored it, my eyes darting around the dark hall and tangle of pipes, searching. The hall appeared calm and empty, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen something. Just like in the cornfields, and just like in the Lion’s Den.

“Liana? Should I ask if this is going to become a pattern with you?”

I heard the teasing quality in his voice, but immediately felt defensive. “I could’ve sworn I saw someone,” I announced, spinning around.

Grey’s eyes darted over my shoulder, looking behind me, but of course there was nothing to see. After a pause, he nodded. “I believe you,” he said, meeting my gaze. “But whoever it is isn’t here anymore. Let’s just get to Roark’s as fast as we can. He can check us out, maybe tell us what to do—okay?”

I eyed him, uncertain whether he was being completely honest about believing me. After a moment, though, I realized I didn’t care if he believed me; if he wanted to get out of here, that was fine by me. Because my instincts were screaming at me to run as fast as possible.

23

“You have a minor concussion.”

Roark spoke the words in a matter-of-fact tone as he looked at me from across the table in his little home. Behind him, Grey stood stone-faced, not quite meeting my gaze, but definitely waiting to gauge my reaction.

“I know what I saw,” I said, perhaps a bit stubbornly. “It’s happened to me more than once, Roark. Maybe twice is a coincidence, but three times is not.”

“There’s no evidence to support your claim, girl. You’re the only one who saw anything, and this latest time, you had just suffered a fairly violent altercation. Safe to say it can account for what you thought you saw.”

“Okay, but after we met Sarah I could’ve sworn I saw something in the cornfields.”

“That particular crop is famous for freaking out non-Hands,” Grey said quietly. “The artificial wind confuses them, given the lack of real wind inside the Tower. A few get sick from time to time.”

I glanced over the white tufts of Roark’s head at Grey, and gave him a withering glance. His comment hurt, and just confirmed my suspicions that he was saying what he thought he had to, to get me to follow him.

“But at the Lion’s Den,” I said, unwilling to let it go, “I could’ve sworn I felt like someone was watching me, and it wasn’t a good feeling.” I was right about this—we needed to be on our guard. I just had to convince them. “Guys, I am not the type of girl who freaks out over nothing or imagines things. I thought maybe I was stressed at first, but now... I think I’m being followed.”

Grey and Roark exchanged looks, and then looked back at me. I met their gazes head on, and it wasn’t easy. My skull still ached from Silvan’s attack a little over an hour ago, my center of gravity slightly off sync with my eyes, making them tend to wander. Which made looking at them so hard, yet so necessary. I curled my fingers into the pain, partially to fight through it, but also to keep my hands from seeking out and gingerly probing the area where my hair had been ripped out. Roark had given me a band to help reduce the swelling and ease the pain, and, while it did help, I sort of wished he was more liberal with the pain medication.

“All right,” Roark said, and I jolted back into reality. I had gotten a little lost in my aches and pains, and it took me a few seconds to remember what we had been talking about. I needed to get it together. “Tell you what I’ll do—I have a contact who might be able to find out if someone has been following you. I’ll reach out to him, and see if he can help us. Will that make you feel better?”

I nodded, some of my frayed nerves settling somewhat.

“Good,” Roark continued, turning his attention back to the salve he was making for Grey’s arm. “But if it comes back that you aren’t being followed, I expect you to drop all of this. Agreed?”

“Yes,” I said tartly. “Agreed.” But even as I spoke the words, I realized I didn’t care what he found out—I knew what I knew. And if I wanted to do something about it, then I was just going to have to figure it out myself.

A couple hours later, with Roark’s tentative approval, I left and made my way back up to Smallsville, intent on seeing if I could find anything in the corn that would help prove my theory. I had an evening shift with Gerome starting at five tonight, but until then, I had nothing but time.

Even as I made my way up there, I recognized how flawed the idea was. Hands moved in, out, and all over the fields dozens of times throughout the day, and distinguishing one Tower-made boot from another was impossible, save for size and possibly weight. And even then, finding the exact spot where Grey and I had been standing would be almost impossible, as there was no way of distinguishing where on the trail we had been. But I had to do something. It was better than waiting or going home, so here I was.

The light, crisp wind that washed over me as I stepped out onto the floor was refreshing, but I couldn’t let myself relax, not with the knowledge that, even now, someone could be watching me. That paranoia only grew worse