Page 126 of Scarlet Wars
I nodded, sliding my chair forward a little, leaning into the space between us. “Yes. You said they had a presidential warrant for my arrest.”
“They did.” Her voice was even, steady, but her brow pinched slightly, like she already anticipated where this was headed and didn’t like it. “They told Vincent Strazzo, my Leader, as much; and he alerted me right away.”
“Right. Well, the reason I left the battlefield that day was because the soldier I was…”
Rachel’s brows rose. “Strangling.”
I cleared my throat. “It was really more of an interrogation. He mentioned having seen a copy of the warrant. And I wanted to see it for myself, to try and understand why the president of the United States would suddenly brand me a terrorist out of nowhere.”
Rachel tilted her head, studying me in that way that always made me feel like she was measuring my soul. “That makes a lot of sense,” she said at last. “I’m sad you didn’t tell me this before. I would’ve understood your actions that day a little bit more.”
I shifted in my chair, shoulders hunching. “I was still in the wrong to leave you guys hanging. You were justified in your anger toward me.”
Her mouth curved faintly, though her demeanor stayed firm. “Not saying I wasn’t. Only that I thought your actions were fueled by revenge. But now I understand. You were searching for the truth behind your parents’ death. That makes a difference.”
Something in my chest cracked a little, and the word slipped out before I could stop it. “Thank you.” It came out quieter than I meant it, soaked in more relief than I liked showing.
Rachel inclined her head. “Is this what you wanted to tell me?”
I shook my head, steadying myself with a breath. “No. It’s about the warrant.”
Her expression shifted, but her voice stayed calm. “Go on.”
“I pulled from that guy’s memories a dulled version of the warrant. He’d only read it quickly, and all I could piece together were scraps. Traitor. Terrorist. Threat to national security.” My throat felt dry as I forced the words out. “Nothing concrete. Except the President’s stamp burned across the page.”
Rachel’s frown deepened. “You want a copy of the real thing?”
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of it as I admitted, “I’ve been going over every flicker of memory I pulled out of that man’s mind, but it’s not enough. Not even close. I need the truth. Is there any way you could help me get a copy of that warrant?”
With a flick of her fingers, her Nexus flared to life. Yellow droplets shimmered into the air, then bled together into the shape of a crisp white document. “Here you are.”
My jaw dropped. “You had this all along?”
Rachel’s smile was small, apologetic. “I had no idea you were looking for it. In my Collective, Emma, we communicate with each other. Tell me what you need, and I will always try to help.”
She gestured to the paper with a tilt of her chin. “My Leader got me a copy last week. The only way to protect you is byknowing exactly what we’re up against, so I wanted to read it for myself.”
My hands were trembling as I reached out, the document cool against my skin. My focus shot instantly to the bottom, where the emblem glared up at me—bold, undeniable, the seal of the president of the United States.
“What reason,” I muttered, “could the President possibly have had to brand me an enemy of the state out of nowhere?”
Rachel shook her head; her expression pinched with sympathy. “I don’t know. Some here think the Collabs are behind it. Clearly, someone’s feeding the President magic, and since the Collabs are the only ones siding with humans right now—with their creepy experiments and that godsdamn bubble—it isn’t exactly a stretch.”
My grip tightened on the paper until it crumpled at the edges. “Why the hell would Collabs hunt me in the first place?”
Rachel shrugged. “Maybe they found out about your untraceable translation and think you’re a threat to interspecies peace. Maybe they heard about the Krait and want to make sure you never procreate. Maybe both. Or maybe they just want an excuse to hunt anyone who doesn’t fit.”
I rolled my eyes. “Charming folk.”
My gaze dropped to the date stamped near the bottom of the page—two days after my attempted arrest.
The blood drained from my face. “What the hell? This was signedaftermy parents were killed.”
Rachel’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Look!” I thrust the paper toward her, jabbing a finger at the date. “This warrant was issuedafterI was already on the run!”
My breath came fast, ragged, like I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. “Which means this isn’t the one they shoved at my parents when they came to arrest me.”
