Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“Bye,” I say, the line beeping twice as she hangs up.
I sit in silence for a while, my mind trying to process what Juno is doing with these ‘resorts’. Why would she be stockpiling blood and what does it have to do with the plague? And what really bothers me—why don’t I know anything about it? How has she managed to put all this together so quickly? A feeling in my gut tells me this is part of something bigger, something that’s been in the works long before we got to DC. What the fuck is going on?
Irritation—at Juno, at Valen, at that nearly useless blood sample in the dining room—runs through my veins like a streak of lightning.
“Ugh!” I stand and pace a little, then walk around the rest of the apartment. I wander past a kitchen with a nice-sized stove and other appliances, though I’m utter shit at cooking. When I enter a massive bedroom, I stop, my irritation turning to straight anger as I recognize my own snarled handwriting on several moving boxes. They’re all here, stacked neatly at the foot of the king-sized bed. Every last thing I brought with me from Austin.
I’ve been cast aside, and not for the first time in my life.
I walk to the bed and sit heavily, my gaze snagging on a glimpse of a fancy bathroom with huge soaking tub. My toiletries box is perched on the edge of the wide vanity. Obviously, none of this is coincidence. Not Valen’s demands, not Juno’s absence or the way she’s been ducking me for the past month. Hell, I only saw her for ten minutes at Christmas, and that was just so she could get a photo with me in front of the governor’s Christmas tree.
“She knew. This whole time.” I rub my cheeks with my palms. Valen wasn’t lying. Whatever agreement he has with Juno included this—whatever this is. Me stuck in this tower, not in the White House with my sister. She never intended to keep me close. This is my home now. Tears sting my eyes, but I lean my head back and will them to drain away. I stay that way for a while, refusing to let a single tear fall as my mind races and stumbles through every reason, every possibility.
Alone in this foreign place, I find no answers—and I realize I won’t until Juno finally decides to tell me the truth.
8
“What’s this?” Wyatt’s hair is up in a messy man bun, some longer strands falling in his face as he looks at the napkin-wrapped vial in my hand. Some old-timey crooner on his record player is lamenting how lonely rivers flow to the sea.
“Juno’s Miracle.” I push it into his hand. “Start working it up in the HCL. All the basics—type, Rhesus, diseases, deficiencies—everything.”
Gretchen rolls over, her head cocked to the side. “Just one vial?”
“I’ll explain later—”
“Can’t wait.” Aang’s snide voice comes from where he’s bent over a microscope.
“Don’t be a dick,” Evie calls.
“You love me,” he parrots back at her.
I don’t think I can handle actually speaking with anyone right now, not when I’m walking a tightrope in my mind. “I’ll be back later.”
“Already out of here?” Gretchen asks.
“I need to see my sister.” I tighten my backpack strap and turn to leave.
“Going to sign up for one of the re-education camps, are you?” Aang asks.
“What did I just say?” Evie rolls her eyes.
“That wasn’t me being a dick; that was me serving cunt,” Aang simpers.
“Just run it. I’ll be back soon.” I’m not in the mood for whatever beef Aang has with me. I’d rather spend my anger on Juno, where it belongs.
I pass the guards, who I’ve named Heckle and Jeckle, then continue past my Secret Service agent and through the front doors.
“Found the cure already?” the red-headed soldier asks.
“Real cute.” I shake my head and trudge back toward the White House.
“I’m only kidding.” He jogs a few steps and catches up to me. “I’m Gage, by the way.”
I give him a sidelong glance and quicken my pace. “Okay.”
He clears his throat. “Usually this is the part where the other person introduces themselves.”
“You already know who I am.”
“Touché.” He smiles, and I know for a fact that smile has dropped plenty of panties. Mine stay firmly in place.
“I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, that’s all. If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be stationed out here for the foreseeable future—day duty—and I want to be helpful any way I can.”
I give a pointed glance to the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m going to need your sort of help.”
He shrugs. “You never know. Maybe lead can kill the virus.” He throws a look over his shoulder.
I do too and see the Secret Service agent following. “Ugh.” I stop and turn around.