The Champion (Lens Book 4) by J. B. Cantwell

Author:J. B. Cantwell [Cantwell, J. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

The tears kept falling as I walked away, but luckily nobody was out. No one was there to ask if I was okay. To offer a tissue to the upset beauty walking down the street.

After a while, I stopped and sat on the steps of someone else’s building, not unlike Marian’s.

I played with my leather gloves, lined with silk, only the best. And I stared into the snow as it continued to fall.

She had known my name.

How?

Was it Angelo, really?

Probably. It would be quite a coincidence for my new therapist to turn out being a Champion.

This was the logical thought I had in my mind.

But logic didn’t really run the controls with me these days.

I needed to get a grip. Right now, I needed to go home, take my meds, and plan the revolution.

Audrey.

My name is Audrey.

I didn’t want to go home yet, and instead I had another idea.

Maybe it was time to catch up with Melanie.

I’d picked up several credit cards the day before at the bank. Of course, nobody could read my designation, my identity, anymore, but my handprint would’ve been hard to fake. I’d walked out with five hundred thousand credits without incident. For someone like me, with millions in the bank, it didn’t raise any suspicions.

I walked to the closest Manhattan station, and climbed the slick, icy stairs to the platform above. The heat of the tracks combined with the train cars made the path to the Brooklyn bound train relatively safe, though slow.

I sat down in the car, wondering if maybe someone had been following me.

Why? Why would they follow me?

This wasn’t the time before Sunrise, the time when I’d constantly felt my life was in danger. I was new. Audrey. Reborn.

The train car was empty, anyway. It was about as luxurious as a city train could be. The seats were upholstered with a sturdy, brown fabric. The maps on the walls free of graffiti.

And not an Orange in sight. Which was too bad, in a way.

The train was fast, and it rolled into the lower Manhattan station in a matter of minutes. The Brooklyn bound train was already on the other side of the platform, and I waited anxiously for the doors to my car to open.

I ran across the platform and caught my arm between the two closing doors. The rubber on the sides of the doors had long since been worn away, so it was metal that crunched against my arm. But I got my other hand in, forcing the doors to open again, just as the train was starting to move out of the station.

For a moment, I panicked. I realized that the train was automatically operated, and there was no one aboard who would be able to stop it for a girl caught in the doors.

I pushed with all my might until I was just able to squeeze myself through the opening. I nearly lost my boot as I pulled my last leg inside, but luckily I had it in the first place to protect my foot.

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