“The museum is a fortress. It’s the safest place to go.”
But getting there wasn’t so straightforward. White motorcars blocked several streets, and both of their shadows constantly danced amid blue and red lights. Soon Enne realized that Levi didn’t know where he was going as well as he’d claimed. They found themselves standing side by side in an alley, their backs pressed against the white stone wall, their clothes soaked, their guns raised.
“Are we lost?” she hissed. Lightning tore through the clouds overhead, followed by a tremendous crack of thunder. If they died tonight, at least their end would make a good story.
“What’s important,” he said, “is that we’re not dead.”
Enne grimaced and dug into her pocket. Then she tied Séance’s black mask across her face.
“Is that smart?” Levi asked.
“If they recognize you, then my face will be compromised just for being with you,” she told him. “This is protection.”
The rain fell more fiercely, making it difficult to see or hear very far in front of them. They inched toward the edge of the alley, but as soon as they peeked around the corner, they heard a shout.
“’Lo! Who is that?” called a voice. The sound of footsteps approached.
“Muck,” Levi breathed, grabbing Enne’s hand and yanking her away. But before they could turn, the whiteboot caught up behind them. He was young, and his eyes widened when he saw them. He shakily raised a gun.
But Enne fired first.
The whiteboot crumpled with a thud and a splash. The water on the pavement ran red.
Levi shuddered and lowered his gun. “You needed to do that.” He said it like he was convincing himself.
“I know,” Enne replied. Still, she didn’t look at the whiteboot. “It was him or us.”
A mile still stretched between them and the Irons’ hideout. There was no question that they would keep running, that Enne would still shoot when it meant “us or them,” but that didn’t mean they would make it.
So, before she could talk herself out of it, Enne grabbed a fistful of Levi’s collar, pulled him down toward her, and pressed her lips against his. He tasted like New Reynes’s polluted rain, and though his clothes were soaked through and freezing, his skin burned at her touch. She felt his mouth open to hers—either in surprise or want, she wasn’t sure. His free hand reached around her waist, but before he could close the space between them, Enne lurched away.
“That’s in case we die,” she said.
Levi’s chest heaved in shaky gasps as he wiped the rainwater out of his eyes. “We aren’t dying,” he breathed, “until we can do that again.”
Enne’s face heated with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. “Then let’s make it home.”
And so they ran.
JAC
That evening, Jac paid a visit to the next Rapture den alone. It’d been Sophia’s idea, an important solo assignment to prove that she trusted him. But rather than reassure him, it only made Jac feel lousy, like he was so insecure that everyone around him had to cater to his moods.
If you disagreed with him, you didn’t trust him. If you tried to please him, he was a burden. Jac didn’t know why he couldn’t just be happy.
“I thought Sophia would be here tonight,” the den manager told him. She kept a clean office tucked on the second story of the warehouse, with sheets on the walls meant to suppress the noise of music from below. This was the largest Rapture location on the North Side, a club big enough for three thousand delirious, sweaty bodies, crammed inside a metal building like New Reynes cod.
“I’m Todd Walsh, her partner,” Jac told her. Sophia might’ve claimed that being partners made them equal, but Sophia’s name still carried more influence than his.
“Should we reschedule?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he answered, trying not to sound bitter. Jac opened his briefcase and slid out a packet of papers. “Now, we know that Charles is giving you thirty percent. We can offer you—”
“There’s nothing you can offer me.” She slid the papers back toward him. “How old are you? Sixteen?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“You don’t realize what you’re up against. Delia had the upper hand, didn’t she? Then Charles put eight holes in her head.” The woman leaned forward. “You’re trying to play a game of strategy, but that’s not what this is about. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t evencare. He probably loves this, waiting you out. You think you’re winning, but you’re just giving him his fun.”
