The Girl Who Dared to Think (The Girl Who Dared #1)

“Come on,” I muttered. “Before the alert shows up—come on, come on!”

The one flickered back to a nine. Good—apparently once it was in your system, it worked faster.

I heaved a sigh of relief. For the time being, I was safe. But Grey had these pills too, and he had been caught. If I was going to get him out of that place, I needed Roark’s help in more ways than one.

I stood, well aware that it was late, and got dressed. Tonight was not a night for feeling sorry for myself; it was a night for doing something about it.





15





I decided halfway down to Zoe’s that I wasn’t going to involve her after all. The closer I got to her, the more difficult it became to breathe, and I suddenly imagined her on the other side of that glass, painting pictures in blood and humming a song that no one could hear. And I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk her.

So I turned away from her quarters and did something a little more dangerous—I took the plunge. As a general rule, no area of the plunge was ever safe. Yet the parts leading into Cogstown were especially perilous. Most Knights never bothered to try, opting to take the elevators to the main halls outside of Cogstown.

Taking the plunge here required quick thinking, ingenuity, and near-perfect timing. One wrong move and they’d find my body torn apart by industrial cables, or worse. The reason it was so dangerous was that it changed as repairs were made, the internal structure modified, restored, modified again. It was constantly changing, and had been for hundreds of years. As a result, the place was littered with obstacles. Knights over the years had updated the painted signs inside the plunge, adding new ones or removing obsolete ones as they were discovered, but every time a Knight stepped into the Cogstown plunge, they knew there was a chance something had changed since the last time a Knight was in there. And that meant I had to proceed with utmost caution.

I stepped up to the edge and looked down, already noting the places where light shone, marking the safer path.

Playing it safe, I lashed over to the adjacent wall and slowly began to lower myself, letting my eyes grow used to the dark. I adjusted my position slightly as I descended, keeping a careful eye out for unknown obstacles as I navigated the metallic jungle that seemed to have grown in all sorts of directions.

It took a while before I began to grow more confident, allowing myself to pick up speed as I learned to trust the marks. I kept a careful eye on the marks for the landings that led back into the Tower, and eventually spotted a small orange gear mark, and made my way over to the doorway it stood vigil over.

Boots firmly on the ground, I followed the hall until it abruptly ended at the now-quiet market in the center of town. The lights were dim, replicating nighttime, and the only lighting came from lamps on tall posts deposited haphazardly along the streets of the market. It took me a moment to orient myself, but once I figured out where I was in relation to Roark’s place, I began to move, winding my way through the quiet, still streets.

I kept my head down and my hands in my pockets, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. Adrenaline was coursing fiercely through my blood now, every shadow or movement setting my heart racing in a wash of fear and terror. I knew Scipio couldn’t read my exact thoughts, but how had he not noticed the high concentration of negativity I was experiencing when compared with my ranking? And what would happen when he did?

My heart practically stopped when I realized that the Eyes must have figured out something was off. They had noticed the discrepancy of the massive jump from one to nine, and that was how Grey had gotten caught. It wouldn’t take them long before they caught on to me as well. Maybe that’s why Alex hadn’t taken my call—he had realized my ranking had jumped in the same way and was furious with me. Or was covering for me. Or had gotten caught. The thought brought me up short, and I had to fight off the impulse to call him again.

It took a moment to talk myself down from that ledge, but I managed. The logic I used was harsh, but honest as well: none of that was under my control. If the Eyes came for me, they came for me. Until I had more information, I was being paranoid, and that was counterproductive. I needed to get to Roark to get his help with Grey.

That did something to lessen the fear, and I began moving forward again. I was determined to see this through, even if it meant going against myself. I managed to get back to the ladder leading up, and chose to lash up the girders onto the third floor. I moved quickly down the hall, the memory of yesterday still fresh in my mind, the ghost of Grey everywhere.

I knocked, pushing the morbid thought out of my head. Grey wasn’t dead. Yet. And he wouldn’t be, if I had my way about it.

Silence met my knock for several long moments—until I was certain that he wasn’t in—and then a voice called, “Who is it?”

“Squ—Liana Castell,” I called. I couldn’t force the honorific out. It just jammed in my throat, heavy and disgusting. I wanted nothing to do with the Knights now that I knew what they were doing to people. “I need to talk to you.”

I heard a low curse from the other side of the door.

“I thought I made it pretty clear I’m not interested in what you have to say,” Roark snapped, his voice closer to the door.

“Grey’s in trouble,” I said flatly.

There was another pause, followed by a sharp click, and the door sprang open.

“Where is he?” Roark demanded as he came into view, and I blinked. His hair was unkempt and wild, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved today. Dark bags lay under his eyes, and he seemed nervous and agitated.

“He fell to a one and got arrested,” I said, unable to meet the man’s gaze.

His eyes narrowed. “What? How? Grey’s a nine.”

“We both know that isn’t exactly true,” I said softly, and I pulled the bottle out of my pocket, letting him see it. His eyes widened, and then he grabbed me and hauled me inside. He shoved me hard against a wall and threw his arm over my chest in a surprisingly strong move.

“How did you get those, and are you alone?” he snarled, glancing quickly out the door. “And what have you done with Grey?”

I sucked in a ragged breath—the pressure of his arm adding weight to my diaphragm and making the move difficult and strange—and met his gaze. “I’m... alone... Grey’s alive... for now.”

Roark blinked and then took a hasty step back, his eyebrows drawing together. “So, there aren’t any other Knights ready to burst into this place?”

“No,” I said, rubbing my sternum with the flat of my hand. “And for the record, they’d be after me as well as you.” I held up my wrist and showed him the nine there, and he gave it a hard look before closing the door.

“Why are you here?” he demanded.

“I need your help—I want to save Grey.”