Page 218 of Because I Killed Him
“Too many sevens.”
“Yes, sir. I did mention that when you created the password.”
Jerome grunts, then I hear a lock disengage and a door open. A moment later, he reappears with a small, black velvet box. He shoves it toward me, eyebrow cocked.
I’m too distracted by my civil credit score to take the box: 87.
I’m below the arrest threshold now, which means the Coppers are on their way.
“Go on, sweetheart. Take it.” Jerome pushes the box closer. “Or are you waiting for me to drop down on one knee?”
My heart hammers at the implication. If he means what I think—
I grab the box, flip open the lid, and there it is, cold, glittering, and blue: an Aegis.
A gasp rips out of me.
“Put it on before the Coppers blow a hole in my door,” Jerome says. “Then we’ll talk.”
I push the Aegis onto my thumb without givingmyself time to think. The scanner pricks my skin, verifying my identity as it syncs with my Blood Ring. Heat blooms under my nail and surges through my hand, arm, and shoulder, spreading through my entire body. I squeeze my eyes shut against the rush. For a moment, I feel painfully and dangerously awake, like stepping into sunlight after years in the dark.
What the hell is this thing?
I open my eyes as the Aegis syncs with my Bond. My credits, now at 53, begin to increase.
87…134…198…
Higher. Faster. I stop watching when the number clears 300. My mind narrows around the terrifying truth that I was three credits away from handcuffs. Three credits away from the guillotine. Three credits away from losing Dad, Mom, Hillaire, Vivian, and Charlotte forever. Now, against all reason, against all mercy, I have it: a second chance, bought at a price I know will come due any moment.
I turn to Jerome, staring at the Aegis on his own thumb. “Whose Aegis is this? Which Blue?”
“No names,” he says, already heading back into his office. “That’s the deal. Now quit gawking and get inside. It’s freezing out here.”
He guides me back into the sweltering room and sits halfway on the edge of his desk, a massive block of wood and bronze so absurdly large it looks stolen from a courthouse.
I look back to find Henry has remained in the foyer.
Jerome watches me for a moment, arms crossed, his expression jumping between annoyance and appraisal. “First things first, Waldsten—you’re not special. You heard what I said to Henry. I didn’t even want you for this assignment. You’re being offered this deal because you meet three conditions: you’re a student, you cleared your background check, and there’s a viral video of you carving up a Blue. That’s it. So don’t start thinking you’re the apple of my eye. We’ve got plenty of students on the books.”
He pauses, and his gaze narrows, as if he’s weighing something behind his crooked grin. Then he jerks his chin at me. “Come here, Waldsten.”
Questions boil up, but only one escapes. “Why?”
“So I can properly introduce myself.”
Jerome extends his hand, his Blood Ring tilted toward me, waiting. I hesitate, then step forward and scan my ring against his. Instead of the standard civilian file that appears on my Bond screen when I’m introduced to new people, I see a classified dossier.
INTERNAL PERSONNEL DOSSIER:
Agency: Office of Civil Integrity (Brasscoat Division)
IDENTITY CONFIRMATION:
Name: Jerome W. Glass
Signature:Glass, J.W.
Image: A headshot of him, younger but with the same grin and the same eyes that don’t match it at all.
