Unlikely Rebel (A Dark Revolution Novella - Book One) by Amy Boyles

Author:Amy Boyles [Boyles, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ladybugbooks
Published: 2015-05-29T23:00:00+00:00

Ten

Later that night I sat in my room running a brush through my tangled hair, trying to bring some normalcy into my newly upturned life. A crack sounded outside my window. It reminded me of pebbles or something stupid like that being thrown against the glass. Going to look, I peered through the smudged glass. The night was moonless, and therefore nothing but my dark reflection stared back at me.

Cities were strange places. As soon as the sun passed twilight, everyone bolted for their homes. Houses became individual forts with steel bolts and wooden barricades locking doors up tightly. Inside shutters were closed and locked, and everything sat entombed in silence save for the crickets and occasional howl of a coyote.

Reds ran nightly patrols in the city. Going out meant risking arrest. The only people brave enough to face that threat were rebels and thieves—and few people wanted to encounter either one. Thieves held murderous intentions for anyone who wasn’t a soldier, and rebels—well, to be seen in the vicinity of one automatically made you guilty by association in the eyes of the reds.

So, trapped inside a small house in Corinth and satisfied that nothing was outside, I blew out my candle and settled into bed. Exhausted from the day's events, I awoke startled at the feel of a hand over my mouth.

“It's only me. Don't be afraid.”

Branthe. What the hell was he doing here? And why the hell was he sneaking into my room at night? I nodded. He released my mouth. I pushed myself up on the bed, resting my head on a pillow.

“Don’t be afraid?” I hissed quietly. “You almost scared me to death. I should have you arrested for breaking in here.”

“Would you do that?”

I huffed in annoyance. “Maybe.” After a long pause I added, “No.” The bed creaked as he sat atop it. I bunched my knees under me to make room for him. “What are you doing here? You left without a word earlier today.”

“Yes,” he said, “I’m sorry about that.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing with all this.”

“And that couldn’t wait until morning?”

As my eyes adjusted, I saw him scratch his chin. “I want to keep my visits here to a minimum. It’s not good for your family to be seen with me.”

“So it’s better to risk being caught by a night patrol?”

“Do I hear worry in your voice?” he asked, his tone full of humor.

“Perhaps. Don’t get used to it,” I replied sharply.

“So you don’t think I’m all bad.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He sighed. “I guess it was too much to expect that your attitude would soften toward me. After all, I am a rebel—which is one strike against me. And I did kidnap you—that’s two strikes, right?”

Was he flirting? “You mean, not all rebels are kidnappers?”

“Oh no, we’re all vagabonds and kidnappers, believe that. But not all of us make sure we place our kidnapped victims back with their families.”

“Oh. I get it. Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

He shifted on the bed, causing it to creak.

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