“What was that about?” Malakai asks, staring at the closed bedroom door.
“Probably something about Zachary. They were close to him,” Sawyer says. “Are you almost done?”
Malakai nods. He’s sitting at the dining room table, reading Sawyer’s recent edits to the speech. It’s the most she’s changed so far, but she doesn’t feel the same guilt she did every other time she edited Ellery’s words.
For a moment early that morning, Sawyer wasn’t watching Lynell lose herself in the need for vengeful justice, she was watching Ellery. Sawyer didn’t realize she’d fallen victim to the pitfall of death turning a flawed human into a goddess. Ellery was a wonderful woman in so many ways, but she was weak in others. It took Lynell breaking in front of Sawyer for her to remember that. The look in Lynell’s eyes was the same one Ellery had in the days before she died. Sawyer explained away the unease in her gut, telling herself it was righteous anger against injustice, that Ellery’s motivations were pure.
She won’t make that mistake again. She’ll find a middle between Lynell and Ellery’s rash, dangerous actions and her own passive inactions. She has to if they’re going to find a respite from death and grief.
Regrettably, there is only so much she can do, stuck in this house with no way to contact the others.
“Maybe we should leave,” she says. “We don’t have to obey Ramsey Davenport and we aren’t being productive here.”
Malakai surprises her by shaking his head. “Keeping you alive is the most productive thing we can do.”
“You can’t trust Ramsey.”
“I don’t. But you trust Lynell and Daniel, right?”
“Sure.”
“They trust him. This place is secure. We should stay. For now, at least.”
She relents. “You’re the security expert.”
“This is perfect, by the way.” He holds up the speech, giving her conversational whiplash. “I see both of you in it now.”
Unsure how to respond, she feebly says, “Thank you.”
Lynell and Daniel stay locked in their room for so long that Sawyer is on the verge of knocking to check on them when she hears a click coming from the front door. Malakai jumps to attention, gun in hand, and positions himself between Sawyer and the front door. He raises the gun, pointing it at the door as it swings open, not lowering it until Ramsey becomes visible with his palms already out to show empty hands.
“Ramsey’s back,” Sawyer calls.
The next second, Daniel and Lynell exit the bedroom, both looking oddly solemn.
“I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece,” Ramsey greets them.
“What have you learned?” Lynell asks.
“Booth confirmed that Johnson was the shooter yesterday. However, our knowledge of Johnson says that he’s an excellent shot. He doesn’t often miss, so it’s odd that he fired four times yesterday and only grazed you.”
“The place was filled with smoke. The blinds were pulled. He couldn’t see properly,” Daniel says.
“The blinds were shot off. It looks like they’d been mounted inside the window seal, so a talented sniper could shoot the brackets. And he threw the smoke bomb. If he wanted perfect visibility, he wouldn’t have done that,” Ramsey says. “Plus, he could have used a laser sight for more accuracy. I’m sure his intention wasn’t to kill.”
“Then what was it?” Daniel asks.
Lynell answers, her attention still on Ramsey. “Probably to scare us or to keep us from working together.”
“I’d agree with the former, but if he wanted to do the latter, he wouldn’t have given you a common danger. Johnson isn’t stupid. He knows that facing death with someone unites you,” Ramsey says. “If it were me, I would kill one of you and not the other. Johnson probably wanted to distract you from the main issue.”
“Was he following orders or acting independently?” Lynell asks. She glances briefly at Daniel and tugs at a string on her shirt hem.
“No way to know for certain, but I’d assume following orders. Johnson alone has no reason to leave you both alive. I think we’ll know if he stops obeying superiors because he’ll become much more dangerous.”
“More dangerous than bombing our house and shooting at us?” Daniel seethes.
“Yes.” Ramsey says everything with a matter-of-fact tone that matches expressionless eyes and thin lips. He reminds Sawyer of Malakai more than Daniel does. They’re both trained soldiers who put the job above their feelings.
“What about Anna?” Daniel asks.
“I think I know where she is.”
“Really?” Daniel and Lynell say in unison.
Before they can say more, Ramsey adds, “But I won’t attempt a rescue until I know more about the security. Booth is keeping an eye on the house now. It doesn’t seem overly protected, but my assumption is that they don’t want to draw attention to the house. They’re probably relying on the location remaining secret.”
“If you can save Anna, then maybe Lyn can keep the policy from passing,” Daniel suggests.
“I don’t think we have enough time, Danny,” Lynell says. “Unless we have leverage over a committee member.”
“Mrs. Elysian is right.”
“Besides, it might not matter if the policy passes,” Lynell says.
Sawyer frowns, wondering if she misheard. That statement doesn't fit with Lynell’s behavior and comments in their conversation early that morning. Hours ago, she was prepared to throw the country into war to stop the committee and oligarchs. Now she doesn’t care if they get what they want like this policy change?
“What do you mean?” Sawyer asks.
Lynell avoids the question and Sawyer’s eyes, speaking directly to Ramsey. “Are you willing to help us, even if it means hijacking the convention and my succession?”
Ramsey’s eyebrows pull together and the scar across his face creates a severe, unhappy look. Sawyer expects him to disagree. He doesn’t.
“Of course. My loyalty is to you and you alone, Mrs. Elysian.”
Unlike Sawyer, Lynell doesn’t look surprised at his response. “Is it safe for us to leave here?”
Now Ramsey hesitates. He sniffs in disapproval even as he says, “If you’re cautious, yes. We can leave. I brought these, but don’t turn them on until you have to use them.” He pulls four phones from pockets inside his jacket and passes them out. Sawyer accepts hers and studies it, noticing it’s a thick older model but still a smartphone without buttons on the front screen.
“Perfect. Because we have work to do if we’re going to pull this off.”
Sawyer has no idea what caused this shift in Lynell, but she’s not going to question it. “What are you thinking?” she asks instead, looking for direction, needing to be in the loop, scratch the itch to do something other than sit and stare at the blank walls.
“I’m thinking you were right. Our best chance is working together. But we need someone else on our team.” Lynell pauses, her eyes moving from Sawyer to Ramsey to Daniel, who gives her a small nod of encouragement. “We need Harlow Graham.”
Out of all the options for someone to work with, Harlow is at the top of Sawyer’s list, so she’s not sure where her unease comes from. Her body senses danger when her mind can’t see anything worth worrying about. She shoves the feeling down so she can plan with the others unimpeded by pointless anxiety.
They stay long enough to agree on next steps, and a time to meet later in the evening. Then the five of them leave the safe house, Ramsey driving Lynell and Daniel while Sawyer and Malakai take the car borrowed from his neighbor.
She’s silent during the drive, hoping it’ll help alleviate the persistent anxiety. Once at her house, Malakai opens the front door, she steps in, her head down as she turns on the phone when someone gasps and throws their arms around her.
“Sawyer, thank god,” Harlow says, her shoulders digging into Sawyer’s chin. Several long moments of hugging pass before she pulls back, gaze bouncing around Sawyer’s face. “You scared us to death.”
“Us?” Sawyer repeats. Harlow steps aside to reveal several people in her living room, all of them now looking at her with wide eyes.
Henry Doyle, leaning against his cane, spins from where he was standing next to the couch by Sawyer’s thriving Ficus. Lying on her back on the couch is Drea, dark circles cupping her small eyes and Guinness snoozing obliviously on her chest. Her legs lie in the lap of a man Sawyer recognizes as Grant Woods, longtime member of the Resurrection and Drea’s ex. Finally, an older man is standing in the corner of the room, his face pale.
“Dad?”
He crosses the room and stops a foot in front of Sawyer to stare at her, as if uncertain whether she’s real or a figment of his imagination. Then he envelops her in the tightest hug they’ve ever shared. Sawyer is momentarily lost in her thoughts and hesitates in returning the hug because she swears in the second before her dad grabbed her, he looked guilty. She could see regret clear as day in his eyes.
But what on earth would he have to feel guilty for?
When he lets go, Henry and Drea are there, waiting for their turn to hug her.
Sawyer looks between their pained expressions. “What’s going on?”
“Seriously?” Drea says. “We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped or something.”
“Why would you think that?” Sawyer asks.
“First of all, Henry found this on the floor of your office.” Drea turns, scoops up something from the coffee table, and hands it to Sawyer. It’s one of Johnson’s stalker photos. Sawyer must have dropped it when she was cleaning the office. “Then there was this.”
Drea grabs the TV remote and presses buttons until an hours-old news report replays on the screen. A reporter with red hair framing her face takes up most of the screen, bright red and blue lights flashing behind her and a text box at the bottom of the screen that reads, Gunshots heard at house owned by Lincoln D’Angelo.
“The police refused to comment on whether or not bodies were recovered from the home, but the way they said it made everyone think that you were dead,” Drea says. “None of our calls could go through, and Henry couldn’t find your location . . .” She trails off, but Sawyer doesn’t need any further explanation.
“What else did the news say?” Sawyer asks, thinking about Lynell.
Drea frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Were there any other witnesses? Did they mention anyone else?”
“Who else would they mention, sweetheart?” Lincoln asks.
Sawyer rolls her lips together, unwilling to share her plans with Lynell and Daniel yet. “Never mind.” None of them seem happy with the response, particularly Harlow and Lincoln, but no one argues.
“So, what happened?” Drea asks.
“I received a threat along with the photos.” She lifts the picture up to face the room. “And I was worried. So, Malakai and I were looking for possible safe houses in case I needed one. When we were checking out one of Dad’s rentals, someone shot at us, but we’re fine.”
“You don’t look okay, sweetheart,” Lincoln says, eyeing the cuts along Sawyer’s neck and face.
“Glass from the window breaking.” Sawyer suddenly feels claustrophobic. “I’m okay but I’m tired. Everything is still on for tomorrow, so I’m going to shower and get some rest before the convention.”
They seem to understand, because they all start their goodbyes, expressing their relief that she’s okay, telling her to be safe, and agreeing to see her the next day before the convention.
Harlow is the last to give her a hug, and Sawyer whispers in her ear, “I need you to stay.” She walks with her father on his way out, then locks the door, closes the blinds, and pours a glass of water.
Finally alone, Sawyer sits Harlow down and tells her the truth.
“Did they . . . mention him?” she asks, her words so quiet that Sawyer almost wonders if she imagined them.
“Lynell said he was the bravest person she knew. And that he would break his generational curse.” Sawyer still can’t quite believe the love Lynell seemed to have for her cousin, the man who Registered her. How could she have said such kind things about him? Zachary never showed a hint of goodness, or expressed sympathy for the people who lost loved ones to the Registration. He spoke to crowds on behalf of his father to condemn rebels and spout the same bullshit about how the Registration is good and they all need to fall in line with how the world works. He looked and acted exactly how she expected the son of a tyrant to look and act.
Yet Lynell, Daniel, and Harlow all knew him personally and have a completely different opinion on the man. As little sense as it makes, Sawyer trusts all three of them.
Nothing in the world seems as straightforward as it once did.
The green of Harlow’s eyes expands as tears begin to form. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“So, are you in?” Sawyer asks. She knows Harlow would help the Resurrection, but she’s not sure if Lynell’s involvement will change things. “Will you help us?”
Harlow nods. “Of course.”