Page 62 of Because I Killed Him
“Pick a colorful one,” I tell Charlotte.
“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.” Her eyes dart over the endless rainbow of options. “I’m not a lucky person, Lore.”
“Then go with your gut.”
I grab a glass of a streaked purple-and-pink mixture, while Charlotte chooses a bright green concoction. We throw them back in unison. Mine tastes like a sweet blend of berries and champagne.
“How do you feel?” I ask, wiping droplets from my mouth.
Charlotte grimaces. “It was sour, but fine… so far.”
We toss our empty glasses onto the trays and race up the winding staircase. Behind us, the chatter and laughter from the gambling lounge fade into distant echoes. All that’s left is the sound of our heavy breathing.
Ahead, the doors of the Triangle come into view, their edges flickering with light. Relief builds in my chest, fragile and all too brief. It shatters the moment I see two Coppers patrolling at the top of the stairs. Their helmeted heads swing back and forth, as if searching for someone. One spots me, nudges the other, and both begin descending toward us.
“Shit,” I gasp.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asks, just before spotting the Coppers, too.
We turn and rush back the way we came. My Pinkies follow us down the steps until heavy boots echo from below. Shadows stretch along the walls as two more Coppers appear, ascending the stairs with long strides.
Charlotte’s hand clamps around my arm so tightly I can feel her pulse pounding through her palm. “What the hell is going on, Lore?”
“I don’t know,” I say, racking my brain for another way out. Running from Coppers is illegal, but the law feels distant and meaningless now. For all I know, these Coppers could be here to kill me, like the one on the Regal Express.
The Coppers weave through students on the staircase with unwavering focus. Around me, the walls seem to close in. There’s no side exit or window to escape through. We’re trapped.
One of the Coppers halts on the step above us. The others remain behind him, hands resting loosely on their firearm holsters.
“Good evening, Miss Waldsten,” the Copper says, bowing in greeting.
The T-visor on his gunmetal gray helmet reflects the lights from the tiered chandeliers overhead, making it look like he’s winking at us. The sandalwood scent of cologne clings faintly to his starched uniform, but it’s the Blood Ring on his thumb that draws my attention. He’s a Purple, which is unusual because Purples generally lack the physical strength to become Coppers.
Clearly, he’s an exception.
“Your presence has been formally requested,” he says. “I am here to escort you.”
“Escort me where, officer? Who made the request?”
“My orders do not permit me to disclose details.”
“Then I deny the request.”
The Purple Copper cocks his head, mildly surprised by my refusal. “You are not at liberty to refuse this meeting, Miss Waldsten. If you do not allow me to escort you willingly, I shall use force.”
The severity of his tone tells me he’s not bluffing. I can’t afford to lose civil credits, but if he’s escorting me to my death, I’d be a fool to go willingly. Charlotte, still standing beside me, squeezes my hand.
“Then use force, officer,” I say.
The Purple Copper turns on the Pinkies and waves his Blood Ring, transferring his orders into their systems. Within seconds, the robots process the command and step aside.
Outranked.
The Coppers descend on us in a sudden, brutal strike. Two of them seize Charlotte and drag her up the staircase as she thrashes and screams. The others grab me, their hands like shackles on my arms, hauling me backward as my heels scrape the stair carpet. I clutch Winston Glass’s gift, still attached to my chest. The device is meant to activate and protect me when I’m under threat.
But it doesn’t.
I fight with more desperation than reason, my legs lashing out and my body flailing. Instinct kicks in, and I twist with sudden force, wrench one arm free, and drive the edge of my hand toward the Purple Copper’s exposed throat. He tries to tuck his chin, but it’s too late. The blow sends him gasping and buckling over. The other Copper—a Green like me—quickly puts me in a wrist lock. I struggle, each movement a shock of pain as his grip tightens.
