The Girl Who Dared to Think 2: The Girl Who Dared to Stand (The Girl Who Dared #2)(4)

Odds were it was a market set up in front of one of the greeneries, judging by the occasional whiff of something delicious that got through the odor of dirty clothes enshrouding me, and the sheer volume of noise. They often sold pre-made food in exchange for ration credits in markets like that, and those who didn’t have time to cook could always count on the food stalls. Which one it was, I couldn’t tell—although from the smell, I guessed we were close to the Menagerie.

A chill went through my spine at the thought of them passing so close to our hideout, and suddenly I wondered again how Lacey had found us.

It didn’t make any sense that she’d had her people follow us. I thought I had been so careful after my meeting with them. I’d waited until they’d left, even waited their required time of sixty seconds. Surely they wouldn’t have stuck around just to follow me. And even if they had, I would’ve noticed, especially since Eric and I took the long way back.

So, then… how had they found us? Where had I screwed up?

It was far too late for it to be of any use at the moment, but still, the question refused to leave my mind. The bin continued to rattle and shake around me, bouncing me and Grey around and forcing me to slide heavily to one side as the person pushing it took a corner too fast, shoving Grey’s body into mine for a few uncomfortable seconds. I then returned my thoughts to how we had been found. If Lacey had some other way of tracking us, I wanted to know about it—so I could avoid it in the future. I had learned to change clothes before returning home thanks to a lesson delivered by Devon and his radioactive material-coated lash ends. He had used the radiation signature to follow me back to Sanctum, and killed both Roark and Cali as a result.

I prayed that this time, my mistake didn’t get anyone I cared about killed.

I tried to reassure myself that Lacey was doing this to honor our deal. Maybe she had grabbed Grey—Leo—and me in order to enact whatever cockamamie plan they had to hide us from the wrath of the Tower. Which was going to be severe, now that Devon was dead.

Considering they had wanted him dead in the first place, I could only hope that whatever plan they had in place was good. Damned good. As in, here’s a secret room that no one knows about, kind of good. Because otherwise, it was going to take a miracle from on high to help us out of this situation.

Grey shifted slightly next to me, and then let out an irritated noise. “I have the most uncomfortable sensation on my nose, Liana. It’s getting worse, and I have the urge to rub it, but can’t with my hands bound.”

For a second, his words filled me with a mild state of confusion, and then I remembered that it wasn’t Grey, it was Leo. And he had never had an itchy nose before. For a second, I struggled with how to explain something as simple as scratching one’s nose, the sheer oddity of it all. But he didn’t know—how could he? He had never had a body of his own.

“Use your shoulder and the fabric of the bag. It’s scratchy enough; it will help.”

I waited patiently.

“Much better,” Grey said after a few muffled movements.

I grated my teeth together and shook my head, reminding myself yet again that he was now Leo. I forced my brain to pair that name with his face, while coldly ignoring the way my heart cried out forlornly against such a treacherous act. It wasn’t logical, but purely emotional—and useless to me right in that moment.

The bounce and jolt of the ride came to a sudden and unexpected stop, and I tensed at the silence that replaced it. The fabric on top of me began to shift and move, and I stiffened when a hand suddenly grabbed my upper arm, pulling me up.

“C’mon, you two,” the voice said gruffly, as more hands grabbed me. “It’s the end of the line.”





2





I was hauled out before I could even begin to process the statement, and placed on my feet, my uniform bunched from where several hands had grasped it. I settled my nerves, understanding immediately what they wanted, and was then propelled gently forward, my captors giving me some time to regain my balance. I came to the conclusion that they weren’t about to push me off the edge and into the plunge.

Then something creaked, and I was shoved forward more forcefully. I staggered and came to a stop, then stumbled forward again when something slammed into me from behind. I immediately stiffened, my head swiveling back and forth as I tried to identify the location of my attacker.

For several heartbeats, I could hear nothing except a grating sound that I immediately recognized as a handwheel being turned. The metallic grating stopped after a few seconds, and then someone in the darkness said, “Hello?”

My heart in my throat, I turned toward the sound, moving slowly. “Zoe?” I asked, immediately recognizing her voice in spite of the bag over my head.

There was a click and a hum, and then someone said, “Liana!”

What happened next was a sequence of events that were both noises and sensations: boots on a metallic floor, coming toward me, hands fiddling with ties on my wrists, other hands coming around my neck. I jerked away from the last, Devon’s recent attack still a vivid memory in my mind—and then suddenly my hands were free.

I snatched off the hood and stood, staring at Zoe, who had her own hands outstretched, concern etched into the soft lines of her face. “Liana?” she asked, her blue eyes tracing over me and pausing at my neck. “What happened?”