Текст книги "The 100 / The Hundred"

Автор книги: Кэсс Морган

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Bellamy kne1">nd of w she was thinking about the one girl she was always watching over, her friend.

“You really care about her, don’t you?” He held out his hand to help her over a moss-covered log blocking their path.

“She’s my best friend,” Clarke said, taking his hand. “The only person on Earth who knows the real me.”

She shot an embarrassed smile at Bellamy, but he nodded. “I know what you mean.” Octavia was the only person in the world who truly knew him. There was no one else he really cared about ever seeing again.

But then he glanced over at Clarke, who was leaning over to breathe in the scent of a bright-pink flower, the sun catching the gold strands in her hair, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

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CHAPTER 15

Clarke

Bellamy led Clarke down a steep hill bordered by slender trees whose branches wove together to form a sort of archway. The silence felt ancient, as if even the wind hadn’t dared to disturb the solitude of the trees for centuries.

“I’m not sure I ever thanked you for what you did for Octavia,” Bellamy said, breaking the spell.

“Does this count as a thank-you?” Clarke teased.

“I think it’s the closest you’re going to get.” He shot her a sidelong look. “I’m not the best at stuff like that.”

Clarke opened her mouth, but before she could launch a retort, she stumbled over a rock. “Whoa there,” Bellamy said with a laugh, grabbing Clarke’s hand to steady her. “And apparently, you’re not the best at stuff like walking.”

“This isn’t walking. This is hiking—something no human has done for hundreds of years, so give me a break.”

“It’s okay. It’s all about division of labor. You keep us alive, and I’ll keep you on two feet.” He gave her a playful squeeze, and Clarke felt her face flush. She hadn’t realized she was still clutching his hand.

“Thanks,” she said, letting her arm fall to her side.

Bellamy paused as they reached the point where the ground flattened out again. “This way,” he said, gesturing to the left. “So, how did you end up becoming a doctor?”

Clarke’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “I wanted to. Didn’t you choose to…” She trailed off, realizing, to her embarrassment, that she had no idea what Bellamy had done back on the ship. Clearly he hadn’t been a guard.

He stared at her, as if trying to determine whether or not she was joking. “It doesn’t work that way on Walden,” he said slowly, stepping deeper into the green-tinged shade. “If you’ve got a great record and you get lucky, you can become a guard. Otherwise you just do whatever job your parents had.”

Clarke tried to keep the surprise from registering on her face. Of course she knew only certain jobs were available to Waldenites, but she hadn’t realized they had no choice at all. “So what were you?”

“I was…” He pressed his lips together. “You know what? It doesn’t matter what I did back there.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said quickly. “I didn’t mean that—”

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“Hold on,” Bellamy whispered, reaching out a hand to block her path. In one fluid motion, he pulled out one of the arrows tucked into his sling and raised his bow. His eyes fixed on a spot where the trees were so dense, it was almost impossible to distinguish the shrubs from the shadows. Then she saw it—a flash of motion, a glint of light reflected in an eye. Clarke held her breath as an animal emerged, small and brown with long, tapered ears that flicked back and forth. A rabbit.

She watched the creature spring forward, its tail almost twice as long as its body, twitching curiously. Aren’t rabbits supposed to have little, fluffy tails?she wondered. But before she could remember her old notes from Biology of Earth class, Clarke saw Bellamy’s elbow draw back, chasing every thought out of her head.

Her gasp caught in her throat as Bellamy’s arrow shot forward, landing with a terrible thwack right in the creature’s chest. For a second, Clarke wondered if she could save it—run over, remove the arrow, and stitch it back up.

Bellamy grabbed her arm, squeezing it just hard enough to convey both assurance and warning. That rabbit was going to help keep them alive, Clarke knew. It would give Thalia a little strength. She tried to close her eyes, but they remained locked on the animal.

“It’s okay,” Bellamy said quietly. “I got it through the heart. He won’t suffer for long.” He was right. The rabbit stopped twitching and slowly fell to the forest floor, then went still. Bellamy turned to her. “Sorry. I know it’s not easy to watch someone suffer.”

A chill passed over her that had nothing to do with the dead rabbit. “Someone?”

“Some thing.” He corrected himself with a shrug. “Anything.”

Clarke watched Bellamy jog over to the rabbit, extract the arrow, and swing the creature over his shoulder. “Let’s go this way,” he said, inclining his head.

The tension seemed to have drained away, Bellamy’s mood visibly bolstered by his successful kill. “So, what’s the story with you and Wells?” he asked, shifting the rabbit over to his other shoulder.

Clarke braced for a rush of indignation at his nosiness, but it never came. “We dated for a little bit, a while ago, but it didn’t work out.”

Bellamy snickered. “Yeah, well, that part was obvious.” He paused, waiting for Clarke to continue. “So,” he prodded, “what happened?”

“He did something unforgivable.”

Instead of making a joke or using the opportunity to make a jab at Wells, Bellamy grew serious. “I don’t think anything’s unforgivable,” he said quietly. “Not if it’s done for the right reasons.”

Clarke didn’t say anything, but couldn’t help wondering whether he was talking about what Octavia had done to be Confined, or something else.

Bellamy glanced up, as if the treetops had caught his attention, then looked back at Clarke. “I’m not saying he didn’t do something terrible, whatever it was. All I mean is that I sort of understand where he’s coming from.” He reached out to run his finger along the bright-yellow moss spiraling up the trunk of a tree. “Wells and I are the only two people who choseto be here, who came for a reason.”

Clarke started to reply, but realized tha t rg his t she wasn’t sure what to say. They were so different on the surface—Wells, whose belief in structure and authority had resulted in her parents’ execution, and Bellamy, the hotheaded Waldenite who’d held the Chancellor at gunpoint. But they were both willing to do anything to get what they wanted. To protect the people they cared about.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly, surprised by his insight.

Bellamy paused, then increased his stride, suddenly excited by whatever he saw. “It was up here,” he said, pulling her up another shallow slope into a clearing. The grass was dotted with white flowers, except for a spot about halfway down that was burned black. Pieces of the dropship lay scattered about like bones. Clarke broke into a run.

She heard Bellamy call her name but didn’t bother to look back. She stumbled forward, hope blooming in her chest. “Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered to herself as she began rummaging through the wreckage with a manic frenzy.

Then she saw them. The metal boxes that had once been white but were now discolored by the dirt and flames. She grabbed the closest one and held it up, her heart pounding so fast it became difficult to breathe. Clarke fumbled with the misshapen clasp. It wouldn’t open. The heat had welded the hinges shut. Frantically, she shook the box, praying that the medicine had survived.

The sound of pill bottles rattling around inside was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.

“Is that it?” Bellamy asked, skidding to a breathless stop next to her.

“Can you open this?” Clarke shoved the box at his chest. He held it up, squinting at the clasp. “Let me see.” He removed a knife from his pocket, and with a few quick movements, pried the chest open.

Exhilaration fizzed through Clarke’s body. Before she realized what she was doing, she had thrown her arms around Bellamy. He joined in her laughter as he staggered backward, and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and spinning her through the air. The colors of the clearing swirled, green and gold and blue all blurring until there was nothing in the world but Bellamy’s smile, lighting up his eyes.

Finally, he set her down gently on the ground. But he didn’t loosen his hold. Instead, he pulled her even closer, and before Clarke had time to catch her breath, his lips were on hers.

A voice in the back of her brain told her to stop, but it was overpowered by the smell of his skin and the pressure of his touch.

Clarke felt like she was melting into his arms, losing herself in the kiss.

He tasted like joy, and joy tasted better on Earth.

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CHAPTER 16

Glass

“I don’t know,” Sonja said slowly, squinting at her daughter in the dim light of the bedroom. “What if we take the skirt off that one and combine it with the green bodice?”

Glass forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She’d been trying on gowns for two hours, and they were no closer to picking one for the comet viewing party than when they’d started. “Whatever you think, Mom,” she said, hoping her smile didn’t look as strained as it felt.

“I’m not sure.” Glass’s mother sighed. “It’lle thaors of the be hard to have it ready in time, but we’ll just have to do our best.”

Glass reminded herself that her mother was only trying to help. She saw the comet viewing party as the perfect moment for Glass to reenter Phoenix society, armed with the official pardon and dressed to perfection. Glass knew the Vice Chancellor would be there, and that it was essential to play her part; she’d gotten back her life in exchange for giving him a better image, which was a more than fair trade-off. Still, Glass felt anxious about making herself the center of attention.

“Or maybe we should go back to the tulle?” Her mother gestured to the pile of discarded gowns. “Just put it back on and we can—” She was cut off by the beep of a message alert from the kitchen.

“I’ll get it,” Glass said quickly, hurrying from the room before her mother had time to protest. It wouldn’t be for her, of course. Her friends only contacted each other via chips; message screens were generally reserved for pointless updates from sanitation, or slightly more ominous alerts from the Council. But it would at least provide a brief respite from dress talk. Glass projected the message queue in the air in front of her. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the blinking name at the top. It was from Luke.

Dear Miss Sorenson,

Security recovered a missing item of yours near the solar fields. It will be held at the checkpoint until 1600 today.

She had to read it several times before the message sank in. She and Luke had created this system long ago, before she got her chip, in case her mother ever snooped through her messages. He wanted her to meet him by the solar fields that afternoon.

“Glass?” Sonja called from the other room. “What was it?”

She deleted the message quickly. “Just a reminder about the comet viewing, as if we could forget!” She glanced at the clock and sighed. It was only 1015. The next few hours were going to pass more slowly than they had in Confinement.

“Oh,” Glass’s mother gasped when Glass stepped back into the bedroom. “Maybe this is the one after all. You look beautiful.”

Glass turned hesitantly toward the mirror. She saw what her mother meant. But it wasn’t the dress. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with anticipation.

She looked like a girl in love.

At 1540, Glass climbed the endless flight of stairs up to the solar fields that covered the top of Walden. The plants themselves were off-limits to everyone except scientists and gatherers, but there was a small, enclosed deck overlooking the fields. It must’ve been designed for supervising the workers but had fallen out of use and was almost always empty.

When she reached the top, Glass moved to the edge of the platform and sat down against the railing, her legs dangling over the side. She felt her body relax as her eyes traveled over the rows of plants stretching their leaves toward the solar panels. The far side of the field was bordered by an enormous window that made it look as though the crops were growing right out of the st old fortars. She and Luke used to meet here all the time. It was safer than him sneaking onto Phoenix, or having Glass wander through his residential unit.

“Hey.”

Glass turned to see Luke standing stiffly behind her. She started to get to her feet, but he shook his head. “Can I join you?” She nodded and moved her legs to the side to make room, and he lowered himself to the ground. “Thanks for coming,” he said awkwardly. “Your mom didn’t suspect anything, did she?”

“It’s fine. She was too busy trying to solve a dress crisis.”

Luke surprised Glass with a smile, then cleared his throat. “Glass, I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened,” he said, and her whole body tensed. She kept her eyes trained carefully on the ground. “I mean, what someone like you could possibly be Confined for. But then I remembered—a few months after we broke up, I heard a rumor about a girl on Phoenix who was arrested for…” His voice broke as he trailed off. Glass turned back to face him and saw that his eyes were glistening. “The timing made sense. But I never believed it could be you.” Luke stared straight ahead, as if looking at something far in the distance. “I told myself that you’d never keep something like that a secret from me. I needed to believe that you trusted me more than that.”

Glass bit her lip, trying to hold back the flood of words welling up in her throat. She so desperately wanted to tell him, but what good would come from admitting the truth? Better to let him think she was just a silly, spoiled Phoenix girl who’d broken his heart. He was happy with Camille right now—and he deserved to be happy.

But then Luke reached over and cupped her chin in his hand, and all her thoughts faded away.

Glass woke up smiling. Although it’d been a few weeks since the night she and Luke had spent together, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. But just as she began to replay the events in her head, a wave of nausea rolled over her.

She tumbled out of bed and staggered through the hallway to the bathroom, grateful that the lights were working, probably thanks to her mother’s new “friend,” the head of the Resource Board.

Glass sank to the cold floor of the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind her, her brain battling with her stomach. She forced herself to breathe, trying to keep quiet. The last thing she needed was for her mother to drag her off to the medical center.

Her stomach won out, and Glass leaned over the toilet just in time. She gagged, tears stinging her eyes, then slumped back against the wall. There was no way she’d be able to meet Wells for lunch, although she felt terrible standing him up again. She’d been spending all her time with Luke, and hadn’t been much of a friend to Wells lately. She missed him. He never seemed to resent her flakiness, which somehow made her feel worse. Especially after everything that had happened with his mother, and now Clarke was apparently acting strange… She really needed to catch up with him.

“Glass?” her mother called out from the other side of the door. “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing,” Glass said, trying to keep her voice light.

“Are you ill?”font>

Glass groaned softly. Their new flat had no privacy. She missed their old, spacious flat with the windows full of stars. She still didn’t understand why they’d had to downgrade just because her father had made the unusual and mortifying decision to sever his marriage contract and move out.

“I’m coming in,” her mother’s voice called from the other side of the door. Glass hastily wiped her mouth and tried to rise to her feet but slid back down as another wave of nausea sent her stomach into revolt. The door opened and Glass saw her mother, dressed for an evening out despite the fact that it wasn’t even noon. But before she had a chance to ask where she was going—or where she was coming from—her mother’s eyes widened, and she visibly paled under her generously applied blush. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Glass said, try to shake the haze from her mind long enough to come up with an explanation that would get her mother to leave her alone. Stomach viruses were rare on Phoenix, and anyone who seemed vaguely contagious was required to spend the duration of their illness in quarantine. “I’m fine.”

“Were you”—Sonja looked behind her and lowered her voice, which was ridiculous considering they were the only two people in the flat—“throwing up?”

“Yes, but I’m fine. I think I just—”

“Oh my god,” her mother said, closing her eyes.

“I’m not sick, I promise. I don’t need to be quarantined. I’ve just been nauseous the past few mornings, but it goes away by the afternoon.”

When her mother opened her eyes, she didn’t look any less worried. The room started to spin, and Sonja’s voice grew faint, as if she were speaking from somewhere far away. Glass could barely make out her question, something about how long it’d been since her last—

Suddenly, Glass’s confusion hardened into a ball of dread. She looked up at Sonja and saw the terrifying realization reflected in her mother’s eyes.

“Glass.” Sonja’s voice was hoarse. “You’re pregnant.”

Staring at Luke’s face, full of sympathy and understanding, Glass felt her last bit of self-control shatter. “I’m sorry.” Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to stifle a sob. “I should’ve told you, I just—I didn’t see any reason for both of us to die.”

“Oh, Glass.” Luke reached out and wrapped his arms tight around her. She nestled gratefully into his familiar embrace, her tears spilling onto the jacket of his guard uniform. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you did this all on your own. I knew you were brave, but I never thought… What happened?” he asked finally, and Glass knew what he meant. Who he was referring to.

“He—” She swallowed as she struggled to breathe. It felt like her heart was about to break apart, unable to contain both the grief and relief pouring into her chest. Finally, she just shook her head. There were no words.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers between hers, squeezinher just shog it tight. “I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this the night you escaped? I had no idea.” He closed his eyes as if to shut out the memory.

“You were with Camille. I knew she was a good friend of yours, and I figured… you’d finally found someone who made you happy.” Glass smiled and wiped away the tears that were still running down her face. “You deserved it, after everything I put you through.”

Luke reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s only one person in the universe who can make me happy, and she’s sitting right here with me.” He stared at her, as if drinking her in. “From the moment I saw you again, I knew it wasn’t Camille—she’s a great friend, always will be, but that’s all she is to me now, and I’ve told her that. I love you, Glass. I never stopped loving you. And I never will.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, lightly at first, as if giving their mouths a chance to become reacquainted. For a moment it felt like their first kiss all over again. But a moment was all it took.

He pressed against Glass, her lips parting as his mouth sank into hers. She was vaguely aware of his hand tangling in her hair, then slipping down her back, pulling her closer to him as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.

Finally, Glass shifted back and let her lips break away from his. “I love you,” she whispered, needing desperately to say it. I love you I love you I love youthrobbed through her body as Luke smiled and pulled her back to him.

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CHAPTER 17

Wells

It was nearly noon, and Clarke had been gone for hours. One of the Arcadian girls had seen her head into the woods earlier that morning, and it had taken all of Wells’s self-control to keep from running after her. The thought of her venturing off on her own made his stomach feel like a punching bag for his imagination. But he had to accept that, of all the people in camp, Clarke knew how to take care of herself. He also knew how important it was to find the missing medicine. Just yesterday, they’d dug another grave.

He wandered toward the de facto cemetery that had cropped up on the far side of the clearing. Over the past few days, Wells had arranged for wooden markers to be placed at the head of each mound, something he remembered from old photographs. He’d wanted to carve the names onto the crosses, but he only knew the names of three of the five kids sleeping beneath the soil, and it didn’t seem right to leave the others blank.

He shuddered and turned back to the graves. The concept of burying the dead had initially struck him as repulsive, but there hadn’t seemed to be any alternative. The thought of burning the bodies was even worse. But although the normal practice of releasing corpses into space was certainly tidier, there was something reassuring about gathering the dead together. Even in death, they’d never be alone.

It was also strangely comforting to have a place to visit, to say the things you couldn’t say to people you could see. Someone, possibly a Walden girl he’d seen flitting near the trees, had gathered fallen branches and rested them along the wooden markers. In the evening, the pods still glowed to life, casting a soft light over the cemetery that gave it an almost unearthly beauty. It would have been nice to have somewhere on the ship where it wouldn’t have sNhims feweemed strange to talk to his mother.

Wells glanced up at the darkening sky. He had no idea if the Colony lost contact with the dropship when it crashed, but he hoped that the monitors in the bracelets were still transmitting data about their blood composition and heart rates. They must have collected enough information to prove that Earth was safe, and would surely begin sending groups of citizens down soon. For a moment he dared to let himself hope that his father and Glass would be among them.

“What are you doing over here?”

Wells turned and saw Octavia moving toward him slowly. Her ankle was healing quickly; her limp was starting to look like a saunter.

“I don’t know. Paying my respects, I suppose.” He gestured toward the graves. “But I was just leaving,” he added quickly as he watched her toss her dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s my turn to go for water.”

“I’ll go with you.” Octavia smiled, and Wells looked away uncomfortably. The long lashes that made her look so innocent when she was sleeping in the infirmary tent now lent a feral gleam to her enormous blue eyes.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with your ankle? It’s a long walk.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice full of playful exasperation as she fell into stride next to him. “Though you’re very sweet to be concerned. You know,” she went on, increasing her pace to catch up with Wells, who hadn’t noticed he’d lengthened his step, “it’s ridiculous that everyone hangs on to Graham’s every word. You know so much more than he does.”

Wells grabbed one of the empty jugs next to the supply tent and turned toward the forest. They’d discovered a stream not far from camp, and everyone strong enough to carry a full container took turns going for water. At least, they were supposedto take turns. He hadn’t seen Graham go for days.

Octavia paused as Wells stepped across the tree line. “Are you coming?” he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

She tilted her head back, her eyes widening as she scanned the shadowy outlines of the trees in the fading light. “I’m coming.” Her voice grew quiet as she darted to Wells’s side. “I haven’t been in the woods yet.”

Wells softened. Even he, who’d spent most of his life dreaming about coming to Earth, found it frightening at times—the vastness, the unfamiliar sounds, the sense that anything could be hiding beyond the light of the campfire. And he’d had time to prepare. He could only imagine what it was like for the others, who were snatched from their cells and shoved onto the dropship before they had time to process what was going on, that they were being sent to a foreign planet that had never been more to them than an empty word.

“Careful,” he said, pointing at a tangle of roots hidden by a mass of purple leaves. “The ground gets pretty uneven here.”

Wells took Octavia’s small hand and helped her climb over a fallen tree. It was strange to think that something without a pulse could die, but the soggy, peeling bark was decidedly corpse-like.

“So is it true?” Octavia asked as they began walking down the slope that led to the stream. “Did you really get yourself Confined so you could come with Clarke?”

“I suppose it is.”

She sighed wistfully. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Wel sie itls gave her a wry smile. “Trust me, it’s not.”

“What do you mean?” Octavia asked, cocking her head to one side. In the shadows of the forest, she looked almost childlike again.

Wells glanced away, suddenly unable to look her in the eye. He wondered grimly what Octavia would say if she knew the truth.

He wasn’t the brave knight who’d come to rescue the princess. He was the reason she’d been locked away in the dungeon.

Wells glanced at his collar chip for the fourteenth time since he’d sat down two minutes earlier. The message Clarke had sent him earlier that day had sounded anxious, and she’d been acting strange for the past few weeks. Wells had barely seen her, and the few times he managed to track her down, she’d been practically twitching with nervous energy.

He couldn’t help but worry that she was about to break up with him. The only thing that kept the anxiety from burning a hole through his stomach was the knowledge that she probably wouldn’t have chosen the library to dump him. It’d be cruel to tarnish the spot they both loved best. Clarke wouldn’t do that to him.

He heard footsteps and rose to his feet as the overhead lights flickered back on. Wells had been still for so long that the library had forgotten his presence, the dim safety lights on the floor providing the only light. Clarke approached, still wearing her scrubs, which normally made him smile—he loved that she didn’t spend hours stressing over her appearance, like most girls on Phoenix—but the blue top and pants fell too loosely from her frame, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward to kiss her lightly in greeting. She didn’t move away, but she didn’t kiss him back. “Are you okay?” he asked, even though he knew full well that she wasn’t.

“Wells,” she said, her voice breaking. She blinked back tears. His eyes widened in alarm. Clarke never cried.

“Hey,” he murmured, putting his arm around her to lead her to the couch. Her legs seemed to buckle beneath her. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Just tell me what’s going on.”

She stared at him, and he could see her urge to confide in him battling her fear. “I need you to promise me that you won’t say anything about this to anyone.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m serious. This isn’t gossip. This is real, life-or-death.”

Wells squeezed her hand. “Clarke, you know you can tell me anything.”

“I found out…” She took a breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and then started again. “You know about my parents’ radiation research.” He nodded. Her parents were in charge of a massive ongoing study meant to determine when, if ever, it would be safe for humans to return to Earth. Whenever his father had spoken of an Earth mission, Wells had thought of it as a distant possibility, more of a hope than a real plan. Still, he knew how important the Griffins’ work was to the Chancellor and to the whole Colony. “They’re doing human trials,” Clarke said softarke ofly. A chill traveled down Wells’s spine, but he said nothing, just tightened his grasp on her hand. “They’re experimenting on children,” Clarke finally said, her voice barely a whisper.

Her voice was hollow, as if the thought had been circulating for so long, it no longer held any meaning. “What children?” he asked, his brain racing to understand.

“Unregistereds,” Clarke said, her tear-filled eyes flashing with sudden anger. “Children from the care center whose parents were executed for violating the population laws.” He could hear the unspoken accusation. People your father killed.

“They’re so young.…” Clarke’s voice trailed off. She sank back and seemed to shrink, as if the truth had taken some part of her with it.

Wells slid his arm behind her, but instead of recoiling as she’d done every day over the past few weeks, she leaned into him and rested her head against his chest. “They’re all so sick.” He could feel her tears seeping through his shirt. “Some of them have already died.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke,” he murmured as he searched for something to say, anything to make her pain go away. “I’m sure your parents are doing their best to make sure it’s…” He paused. There weren’t any words that could make it better. He had to do something, to put a stop to it before the guilt and horror destroyed her. “What can I do?” he asked, his voice becoming firm.

She bolted upright and stared at him, a different kind of terror filling her eyes. “Nothing,” she said with a resolve that took him by surprise. “You have to promise me that you’ll do nothing. My parents made me swear not to tell anyone. They didn’t want to do this, Wells. It wasn’t their choice. Vice Chancellor Rhodes is making them. He threatened them.” She grabbed Wells’s hands. “Promise me you won’t say anything. I just…” She bit her lip. “I just couldn’t keep it from you anymore. I had to tell someone.”

“I promise,” he said, though his skin was growing warm with fury. The slimy bastard had no right to go around the Chancellor like that. He thought of his father, the man who had an unflinching sense of right and wrong. His father never would have approved human trials. He could put a stop to it immediately.