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The Sole Survivor

Page 57

by E.S. Luck

“What is it?” John asked, lazily stroking circles on my bare shoulder. “Is it about blowing my mind? Because, not to brag, but I think both minds were blown this time.”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “No disagreement from me.”

A few seconds passed in silence before he prompted again, “What is it?”

Softly, as though trying to brace him for a blow, I told him my plan. John’s reaction was instant and predictable.

“You can’t do this,” he said, jostling me as he sat up abruptly. “It’s way too fucking dangerous. What if you’re caught? What if—”

“I have to do it,” I replied. “It’s the only way.”

“Bullshit, it’s the only way,” he snapped. “Claire, if they catch you, they could kill you, and I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to stop them.”

“I realize that.”

His eyes widened as if I’d lost my mind, and his entire body tensed. “There’s nothing that’s important enough to lose you over. You hear me? Nothing. The secrets of the universe could be fucking down there and I wouldn’t care if it means you’re at risk.”

“But it’s not just about knowledge, or even exposing Julius,” I said patiently. “It’s about the truth. Can’t you see that? Whatever happened to my father…if he was killed, then I doubt he was the only target. There might be other families out there like mine, broken and confused, who never got answers. If I can find out what happened to them, then they deserve to know. They deserve peace.”

“And it’s sweet of you to want that for them,” John said, decidedly less patient. “But this is the real world, where the good guys often lose because they’re not willing to do what it takes to survive.”

“You think I’m not?” I asked, a little hurt.

He sighed, running a hand over his face in exasperation. “I’m not saying this to be cruel, baby, or to make you change; I’d never want that. But you’re not a fighter. It’s not in your nature. I’m not saying you haven’t learned enough to defend yourself—I know you have—but that you’re not willing to go further than that, and this isn’t some shitty gang in some tiny falling-down town. This is an enemy that neither of us can face alone.”

I swallowed hard, absorbing that. It was true; I wasn’t like him. I was soft and always had been. If I’d been a player in one of those role-playing fantasy board games a number of my students at the Cave had enjoyed, I’d definitely have been the Bard character. Often regarded as useless to the quest and perhaps even a hindrance to it, with talents that nobody quite understood the purpose of.

But Bards could be wild cards, too. Because nobody expected much of us, we saw things others didn’t, and we had the language and the skill to communicate hard truths.

“You’re right,” I said after a moment, and he raised his eyebrows, surprised I’d conceded so readily. “I’m not a fighter. I’ll never be one. But what you don’t see is that that’s why I have to be the one to do this.”

“But—”

“Just listen,” I pleaded, and to his credit, he quieted and looked at me expectantly. “I have a few major things that you and the White Rose will never have: access, opportunity, and the element of surprise. No one here—not even Julius—expects anything of me. They see me as a pretty face for a movement and nothing more. The elites here see me as one of them now—a fat cat that’s just looking to suck up as much of the wealth here as possible. They won’t suspect me. They think I’m helpless and stupid, just like you did when we first met.”

John made a sound of protest. “I never thought you were stupid—”

“Yes, you did,” I said firmly. “A lot of people would’ve. I don’t blame you. I was naïve and fragile in a lot of ways.”

“You were scared, not stupid,” he argued, still irritated by my characterization. “You grew from all that—”

“I know that,” I replied with a shrug. “But they don’t. Julius thinks I got by in the Wasteland on my knees, more or less, to the point that I’ve been somewhat surprised he hasn’t demanded I do that for him, too.”

“I’d kill him with my bare hands, Sire or not,” John retorted.

I reached out and touched his cheek.

“I know,” I murmured. “You’ve always been my protector. I love you for it, but I have to do this. Both for the people of this compound and for myself. I need to know the truth about my father, and there’s no other place to get it. I know it’s hard for you, but…I deserve peace, too. Don’t you think?”

John visibly deflated at my pleading tone. He took my hand in both of his and squeezed. “Of course you do, baby. I just…I hate that I can’t be there to keep you safe.”

“I know,” I said again, and I pecked his lips. “And I know it’s really difficult for you to give up that control. You always want to take care of everything, and I know you’d prefer to wrap me in cotton wool and never let anything bad touch me. That’s your nature. But this is the real world, where we can’t control everything, and where doing what’s right is rarely also what’s easy.”

He sighed heavily and lay back again, drawing me into his arms. “I should be proud to have such a brave wife at my side.”

I smiled faintly and kissed his jaw. “I trust you to go meet Holly, even knowing it might be a trap, because I believe in you. I’ll worry about you—there’s no help for that—but I have faith that even if things go wrong, you’ll figure it out. All I want is for you to give me the same, love.”

He groaned in a way that told me I’d won. “It’s not fair. You’re much better at arguments than I am.”