Archetype by Waters M. D

Author:Waters, M. D. [Waters, M. D.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

My breath stills and I hear nothing more than blood rushing like a raging rapid through my ears. Noah Tucker is going to kill me.

Talk to him, She tells me. Talk or you’re dead.

“Noah,” I plead in a whisper. Less than a whisper. A wisp of breath. I blink away tears to see him clearly. “Please.”

There is only a moment—a very small one—in which the gun slips down, and Noah reaffirms his grip to bring it back up. A war of emotions collides in his bright amber eyes, which I do not understand, like he cannot decide what to do, or he knows and does not want to do it.

“Please,” I say again, and my voice quivers. “I know nothing about Mexico.”

“Nothing?” His voice sounds tight, as if he has to strain to get it to work. “There’s an entire room out there that proves otherwise.”

“And you would kill me for it?”

He presses the barrel of the gun farther into my skull. I see a shift in his eyes then and know he is decided. “I would kill you for simply drawing breath.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

He shakes his head once. His jaw clenches. “What are your orders?”

“I do not understand. There are no orders.”

“Bullshit. You’re here for a reason. Did you think you could slide right back into place?”

“Into what place?”

“With the resistance.”

This is about the resistance? Heat floods my face and I clench my fists. Charles accused me of this as well. I am tired of standing trial for this past I do not remember. It is my future I care about, and I would never work with the resistance to hurt my husband. I would die first.

“You know nothing about me,” I tell him through gritted teeth.

Anger compels me to act now. I swipe my hand up to his wrist, and the gun is off me before he can react. I twist our bodies around and slam him face-first into the wall. He spins around and I drive my knee up hard between his legs. He doubles over with a pained moan. I take the gun from his loosened grip and run toward the safety of the main room.

In the dim lighting of the exhibit, I slow and cover the weapon in my skirts. No one pays me any mind, and for once, I am grateful. I am breathing too hard, and sweat tickles my brow.

I find a decorative vase to my right that stands to my waist. I drop Noah’s gun inside. There is a loud clang, but the music playing in the speakers muffles the sound.

Though free of the weapon, I will not feel safe until I find Declan and tell him about—

My chest tightens at the mere idea of telling Declan what Noah has done. I have not felt this since those early days when She prevented me from talking about my dreams. My dreams of Noah. Even now, after what he has done, She would protect him.

But I cannot let him get away with this. I do not care what She thinks.

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