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“I don’t care about them,” John shot back, his tone raw as an open wound, his anger just below the surface. “I care about you. That’s it—just you.”

I tutted sympathetically, taking his face in my hands. “I know, darling. But I can’t.”

His eyes squeezed shut, as if he knew that would be my answer, and my heart ached. I hated seeing his pain, especially when that same awful yearning twisted in my gut at every opportunity. But in that moment, I had to be strong.

I pulled him close and kissed him, slow and sweet, then pulled his forehead against mine. “I love you more than the stars love the sky. More than the light loves the dark. Neither can exist without the other; and that’s how I know we’ll be together again. Because we have to be, the way that a compass can’t help but point north, and magnets can’t help but touch.”

John gave a small shudder, then pulled my lips to his again in a long, languid kiss that took my breath away.

“You were always better with words,” he said when he released me, with a small, sad smile. “If this is what you want…I’ll come visit you whenever I can, baby. And I’ll keep working on a way to get you out of here safely. In the meantime, why don’t we come up with a signal you can use if you need to see me right away?”

“A signal?” I asked, biting my lip. “I’m not sure what won’t be suspicious.”

He mulled it over, looking around the room. He disappeared into the attached bathroom and returned a moment later with one of the fluffy white towels I’d been provided with.

“Hang one of these in the window of the balcony door,” he said. “Or anything you can find that’s white. The White Rose has people undercover in the compound. I’ll ask them to keep an eye out for it from the street.”

It cheered me up a little, even if I vowed never to use it. It was too risky.

Nonetheless, I hugged him hard. “You always know how to make me feel better, Wastelander.”

Then, despite the unease that still curled in my belly, I kissed my husband goodbye and watched him disappear into the night.

Chapter 18

Claire

Two nights after that, it was the last day of July, and the warm evening air kissed my exposed skin. I’d been given a strappy dress to wear in emerald green; Polly always seemed to put me in green because of my hair. I didn’t dislike it, but it seemed rather unimaginative for a top stylist. Thankfully, I didn’t care how I looked, because I was attending another one-on-one dinner with Julius, and I was dreading it.

The streets were empty because since the attack on the library, a stricter curfew had been enforced on every day except Fridays. Now, all residents had to be inside before eight in the evening unless they had work-related exemptions. The whole compound felt on edge now, as though waiting for the next horror to unfold, and I didn’t like it.

“Why does he want me to go to his residence?” I asked Hamilton as we approached the large black Pyramid. “Last time, he came to the house.”

“He says he has work to do after,” Hamilton replied with a shrug. “Not my business to question it, unfortunately.”

I bit my lip before remembering I had a thick layer of lipstick applied. I hated the way I was dressed and painted like a prize doll for Julius’s approval. There was only one man’s approval I cared about, and I already missed him painfully. The memory of him inside me, his lips on mine, was the only thing that’d kept me going the last couple days, with boring meetings with society elites and a scripted interview that aired on TV last night. I regurgitated the lies they’d given me and hated myself for it, but it was all I could do for now. Julius had to believe the story I’d concocted, and so I did my duties without complaint.

Still, I was restless, and last night, I’d had a dream about my father. Though I’d had plenty of dreams about him before, this one had been different. I’d met him in a meadow that reminded me of one I’d visited often with John when I lived with him and Kimmy at their trailer camp. Find the truth, he’d whispered, but when I asked him what he meant, he merely repeated it. The dream ended when I reached out to touch him.

When we entered the lobby of the Pyramid, there was no attendant present since it was once again after-hours. Hamilton walked to the fingerprint scanner at the desk and attempted to scan his print, but there was an electronic beep that told me it hadn’t worked. He frowned, tried again, and a disembodied female voice said, “Biometric identification failed due to technical error. Please present alternate keycard ID or your Personal Identification Device (PID) if you are active military.”

“Is it broken?” I asked.

“Seems that way,” Hamilton replied, sounding displeased. “The biometrics have been down a lot lately. Officially, we’ve been told it’s a temporary but persistent glitch…”

He tried his fingerprint again, and again, it failed.

“But unofficially?” I prompted when he didn’t continue.

“My money’s on the Order hacking into it,” he said with a sigh. “They do shit like that. Just to disrupt things. Cause chaos and uncertainty, even in little ways. That’s the problem with them: they’re not a straightforward enemy. They hide in the shadows and use espionage most of the time instead of coming right out and attacking.”

My heart sped up when he made a final noise of frustration and pulled a small, handheld device off his belt—the same one I’d seen in the hospital. I watched carefully as he hit an onscreen button that said ID barcode, then held it up to the scanner. It chirped its verification, and there was that familiar clunk as the electronic lock disengaged.

“Good enough,” he said, nodding at the door. “Come on.”

I swallowed hard. I knew now that I had to turn the idea I’d had in the hospital with Hamilton into action. Something in me felt certain that finding the truth about my father’s death was the key to learning the worst secrets of this awful place, and there was one location that I thought might have the answers I sought: the Military Archives level I’d seen in the Pyramid’s elevator. After that, with any luck, I could find a way to go home with my husband and never think about it again.

I pushed that thought aside for the time being as we loaded into the elevator and Hamilton took me to one of the executive residential floors. He led me to Julius’s residence, which was, predictably, an enormous suite adorned with luxurious furnishings, polished surfaces, and sleek, modern décor. He even had more fake windows with screens that displayed a beautiful garden with a waterfall in the distance, framed by thick, velvet curtains.