Page 30 of Because I Killed Him
“Oh, hell.” Charlotte flattens herself against the door like a barricade. “This is bad, Lore. Like shopping for coffins bad. Did you file a report?”
“Not yet.”
I pull up the Pinkie support site on my Bond and submit an emergency repair request. Usually, they run a remote scan first; if that fails, they send a mechanic. I punch in the Pinkie’s ID number and rap my fingers on the sink until the confirmation pops up:Thank you for your submission. Wait time for remote system check: sixty-eight minutes.
I don’t even have sixty-eight seconds.
I check my Bond, stomach twisting when I see my empty inbox. Dad warned me that once I became a Public Person, his hands would be tied and he wouldn’t be able to use his political influence to bail me out of trouble. What he didn’t mention was how badly that same influence could strangle me from afar.
I try to think, digging through years of training for a helpful piece of advice, but there’s nothing, not when the Copper is skirting the law. Reporting him is useless without evidence, and I have none. I don’t even know how he plans to kill me.
The more I think, the more the floor seems to tilt out from under me. My heels slip, and I drop onto the toilet seat with a curse, trembling all over.
In front of me, attached to the stall door, a digital sign catches my attention. On the left, a woman smiles cheerfully and flashes a two-finger salute. On the right:Out of order. Please switch to the neighboring stall. Have a blissful day.
I grit my teeth, my hand already twitching to tear the sign down. But just as I reach for it, an idea sparks in my mind—reckless, desperate, half-mad—the kind that only comes when you’re out of time and options.
And that’s exactly where I am.
I try to fight the idea, but the will to survive ignites in me like fire on dry grass. It burns through my pride, Dad’s warnings, and every shred of better judgment. If I do this, I might live, but will it be a life worth living if I owe it to a Prew?
It’s more than the Prews’ name that makes me hesitate; it’s their blood. The Blues created Bliss, established the caste system, and launched the guillotine executions. Asking Edmund Prew for help would be a betrayal of my people. I understand that, and I won’t pretend otherwise, but guilt isa hard thing to feel when it was a Green who drew first blood.
“I have to switch to another carriage,” I tell Charlotte.
“No shit. But how? The only way out is to be invited by a Blue.”
“I know. Do you think your ex can get us in?”
Charlotte’s mouth drops open. “Nowwaitjust a damn minute. I thought you didn’t trust Blues.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what the hell are you thinking? What happened to your high-and-mighty speech about the Blues being a line you’d never cross willingly?”
“Willingly?” I straighten so fast my T-strap heel screeches on the tile. “In the past hour, I’ve been threatened by a Copper, stalked by a mob, nearly killed in a death duel, and now I’m here, trying to figure out how to survive an organized hit while sitting on a toilet. Tell me, Charlotte—exactly what fucking part of this looks willing to you?”
“All right, all right, I get it, but—” She begins to pace, nervously pressing a hand to her neck. “It’s not that simple, Lore.”
“Attention, passengers,” the PA system booms. “Please return to your assigned seats for ticket verification.”
Charlotte glances at the lavatory door, sweat beading along her hairline. “I’m sorry, Lore. We can’t stay here.”
“We won’t.” I grab my purse from the sink. “You know Edmund better than I do. He’s your friend. If you think it’s not worth the risk, I’ll trust you. It’s your call.”
“That’s just it.” She wipes the sweat from her hairline. “Edmund’s not my friend. Not anymore. And it ended badly with him and Jack.Really badly. The kind of bad that sorry doesn’t fix.”
I pause, eyebrow raised. She never mentioned that. “All right. Then we’ll find another way.”
A loud knock sounds on the door, followed by a wiggling handle. “Ticket verification,” the Copper calls. “Return to your seats, Miss Waldsten and Miss Deering, or you shall face reprimand.”
“Yes, sir.” I flush one of the toilets for effect, then turn on the faucet as if I’m washing up.
Charlotte squeezes her eyes shut and exhales through her nose. “No. There’s no other way. I’ll do it, Lore. I’ll ask.”
“But, Char—”
“I can handle Edmund,” she says, her voice steadier now. “What I can’t handle is watching you die. And I’ll have to face him sooner or later anyway.”
