Unravel Me: The Juliette Chronicles Book 2 Read online

  And I’m curious enough to ask.

  “Adam?”

  He lifts his head to look up and freezes. Blinks, eyebrows up, lips parted. His eyes travel down every inch of my body, pausing to study the harness framing my chest, the guns slung close to my waist.

  He says nothing. He runs a hand through his hair, presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and says something about being right back. He leaves the room.

  I feel sick.

  Kenji clears his throat, loud. Shakes his head. Says, “Wow. I mean, really, are you trying to kill the guy?”

  “What?”

  Kenji is looking at me like I’m an idiot. “You can’t just go around all ‘Oh, Adam, look at me, look at how sexy I am in my new outfit’ and bat your eyelashes—”

  “Bat my eyelashes?” I balk at him. “What are you talking about? I’m not batting my eyelashes at him! And this is the same outfit I’ve worn every day—”

  Kenji grunts. Shrugs and says, “Yeah, well, it looks different.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I am just saying,” he says, hands up in mock surrender, “that if I were him? And you were my girl? And you were walking around looking like that, and I couldn’t touch you?” He looks away. Shrugs again. “I am just saying I do not envy the poor bastard.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “I’m not trying to hurt him—”

  “Oh hell. Forget I said anything,” he says, waving his hands around. “Seriously. It is none of my business.” He shoots me a look. “And do not consider this an invitation for you to start telling me all of your secret feelings now.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not going to tell you anything about my feelings.”

  “Good. Because I don’t want to know.”

  “Have you ever had a girlfriend, Kenji?”

  “What?” He looks mortally offended. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’s never had a girlfriend? Have you even met me?”

  I roll my eyes. “Forget I asked.”

  “I can’t even believe you just said that.”

  “You’re the one who’s always going on about not wanting to talk about your feelings,” I snap.

  “No,” he says. “I said I don’t want to talk about your feelings.” He points at me. “I have zero problem talking about my own.”

  “So do you want to talk about your feelings?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Bu—”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” I look away. Pull at the straps tugging at my back. “So what’s up with your suit?” I ask him.

  “What do you mean, what’s up with it?” He frowns. He runs his hands down his outfit. “This suit is badass.”

  I bite back a smile. “I just meant, why are you wearing a suit? Why do you get one and Adam doesn’t?”

  He shrugs. “Adam doesn’t need one. Few people do—it all depends on what kind of gift we have. For me, this suit makes my life a hell of a lot easier. I don’t always use it, but when I need to get serious about a mission, it really helps. Like, when I need to blend into a background,” he explains, “it’s less complicated if I’m shifting one solid color—hence, the black. And if I have too many layers and too many extra pieces floating around my body, I have to focus that much more on making sure I blend all the details. If I’m one solid piece and one solid color, I’m a much better chameleon. Besides,” he adds, stretching out the muscles in his arms, “I look sexy as hell in this outfit.”

  It takes all the self-control I have not to burst into laughter.

  “So, but what about Adam?” I ask him. “Adam doesn’t need a suit or guns? That doesn’t seem right.”

  “I do have guns,” Adam says as he walks back into the room. His eyes are focused on the fists he’s clenching and unclenching in front of him. “You just can’t see them.”

  I can’t stop looking at him, can’t stop staring.

  “Invisible guns, huh?” Kenji smirks. “That’s cute. I don’t think I ever went through that phase.”

  Adam glares at Kenji. “I have nine different weapons concealed on my body right now. Would you like to choose the one I use to shoot you in the face? Or should I?”

  “It was a joke, Kent. Damn. I was joking—”

  “All right, everyone.”

  We all spin around at the sound of Castle’s voice.

  He examines the 3 of us. “Are you ready?”

  I say, “Yes.”

  Adam nods.

  Kenji says, “Let’s do this shit.”

  Castle says, “Follow me.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  It’s 10:32 a.m.

  We have exactly 1 hour and 28 minutes before we’re supposed to meet the supreme commander.

  This is the plan:

  Castle and every able body from Omega Point are already in position. They left half an hour ago. They’re hiding in the abandoned buildings skirting the circumference of the meeting point indicated in the note. They will be ready to engage in an offensive strike just as soon as Castle gives the signal—and Castle will only give that signal if he senses we’re in danger.

  Adam and Kenji and I are going to travel by foot.

  Kenji and Adam are familiar with unregulated turf because as soldiers, they were required to know which sections of land were strictly off-limits. No one is allowed to trespass on the grounds of our past world. The strange alleyways, side streets, old restaurants and office buildings are forbidden territory.

  Kenji says our meeting point is in one of the few suburban areas still standing; he says he knows it well. Apparently as a soldier he was sent on several errands in this area, each time required to drop off unmarked packages in an abandoned mailbox. The packages were never explained, and he wasn’t stupid enough to ask.

  He says it’s odd that any of these old houses are even functional, especially considering how strict The Reestablishment is about making sure the civilians never try to go back. In fact, most of the residential neighborhoods were torn down immediately after the initial takeover. So it’s very, very rare to find sections left untouched. But there it is, written on the note in too-tight capital letters:

  1542 SYCAMORE

  We’re meeting the supreme commander inside of what used to be someone’s home.

  “So what do you think we should do? Just ring the doorbell?” Kenji is leading us toward the exit of Omega Point. I’m staring straight ahead in the dim light of this tunnel, trying not to focus on the woodpeckers in my stomach. “What do you think?” Kenji asks again. “Would that be too much? Maybe we should just knock?”

  I try to laugh, but the effort is halfhearted at best.

  Adam doesn’t say a word.

  “All right, all right,” Kenji says, all seriousness now. “Once we get out there, you know the drill. We link hands. I project to blend the three of us. One of you on either side of me. Got it?”

  I’m nodding, trying not to look at Adam as I do.

  This is going to be one of the first tests for him and his ability; he’ll have to be able to turn off his Energy just as long as he’s linked to Kenji. If he can’t manage it, Kenji’s projection won’t work on Adam, and Adam will be exposed. In danger.

  “Kent,” Kenji says, “you understand the risks, right? If you can’t pull this off?”

  Adam nods. His face is unflinching. He says he’s been training every day, working with Castle to get himself under control. He says he’s going to be fine.

  He looks at me as he says it.

  My emotions jump out of a plane.

  I hardly even notice we’re nearing the surface when Kenji motions for us to follow him up a ladder. I climb and try to think at the same time, going over and over the plan we spent the early hours of the morning strategizing.

  Getting there is the easy part.

  Getting inside is where things get tricky.

  We’re supposed to pretend we’re doing a swap—our hostages are supposed to be with the supreme commander, and I’m suppos
ed to oversee their release. It’s supposed to be an exchange.

  Me for them.

  But the truth is that we have no idea what will actually happen. We don’t know, for example, who will answer the door. We don’t know if anyone will answer the door. We don’t even know if we’re actually meeting inside the house or if we’re simply meeting outside of it. We also don’t know how they’ll react to seeing Adam and Kenji and the makeshift armory we have strapped to our bodies.

  We don’t know if they’ll start shooting right away.

  This is the part that scares me. I’m not worried for myself as much as I am for Adam and Kenji. They are the twist in this plan. They are the element of surprise. They’re either the unexpected pieces that give us the only advantage we can afford right now, or they’re the unexpected pieces that end up dead the minute they’re spotted. And I’m starting to think this was a very bad idea.

  I’m starting to wonder if I was wrong. If maybe I can’t handle this.

  But it’s too late to turn back now.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Wait here.”

  Kenji tells us to lie low as he pops his head out of the exit. He’s already disappeared from sight, his figure blending into the background. He’s going to let us know if we’re clear to surface.

  I’m too nervous to speak.

  Too nervous to think.

  I can do this we can do this we have no choice but to do this, is all I keep saying to myself.

  “Let’s go.” I hear Kenji’s voice from above our heads. Adam and I follow him up the last stretch of the ladder. We’re taking one of the alternate exit routes out of Omega Point—one that only 7 people know about, according to Castle. We’re taking as many precautions as necessary.

  Adam and I manage to haul our bodies aboveground and I immediately feel the cold and Kenji’s hand slip around my waist. Cold cold cold. It cuts through the air like little knives slicing across our skin. I look down at my feet and see nothing but a barely perceptible shimmer where my boots are supposed to be. I wiggle my fingers in front of my face.

  Nothing.

  I look around.

  No Adam and no Kenji except for Kenji’s invisible hand, now resting at the small of my back.

  It worked. Adam made it work. I’m so relieved I want to sing.

  “Can you guys hear me?” I whisper, happy no one can see me smiling.

  “Yup.”

  “Yeah, I’m right here,” Adam says.

  “Nice work, Kent,” Kenji says to him. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”

  “It’s fine,” Adam says. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  “Done.”

  We’re like a human chain.

  Kenji is between me and Adam and we’re linked, holding hands as Kenji guides us through this deserted area. I have no idea where we are, and I’m starting to realize that I seldom do. This world is still so foreign to me, still so new. Spending so much time in isolation while the planet crumbled to pieces didn’t do me any favors.

  The farther we go, the closer we get to the main road and the closer we get to the compounds that are settled not a mile from here. I can see the boxy shape of their steel structures from where we’re standing.

  Kenji jerks to a halt.

  Says nothing.

  “Why aren’t we moving?” I ask.

  Kenji shushes me. “Can you hear that?”

  “What?”

  Adam pulls in a breath. “Shit. Someone’s coming.”

  “A tank,” Kenji clarifies.

  “More than one,” Adam adds.

  “So why are we still standing here—”

  “Wait, Juliette, hold on a second—”

  And then I see it. A parade of tanks coming down the main road. I count 6 of them altogether.

  Kenji unleashes a series of expletives under his breath.

  “What is it?” I ask. “What’s the problem?”

  “There was only one reason Warner ever ordered us to take more than two tanks out at a time, on the same route,” Adam says to me.

  “What—”

  “They’re preparing for a fight.”

  I gasp.

  “He knows,” Kenji says. “Dammit! Of course he knows. Castle was right. He knows we’re bringing backup. Shit.”

  “What time is it, Kenji?”

  “We have about forty-five minutes.”

  “Then let’s move,” I tell him. “We don’t have time to worry about what’s going to happen afterward. Castle is prepared— he’s anticipating something like this. We’ll be okay. But if we don’t get to that house on time, Winston and Brendan and everyone else might die today.”

  “We might die today,” he points out.

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “That, too.”

  We’re moving through the streets quickly now. Swiftly. Darting through the clearing toward some semblance of civilization and that’s when I see it: the remnants of an achingly familiar universe. Little square houses with little square yards that are now nothing more than wild weeds decaying in the wind. The dead grass crunches under our feet, icy and uninviting. We count down the houses.

  1542 Sycamore.

  It must be this one. It’s impossible to miss.

  It’s the only house on this entire street that looks fully functional. The paint is fresh, clean, a beautiful shade of robin’s-egg blue. A small set of stairs leads up to the front porch, where I notice 2 white wicker rocking chairs and a huge planter full of bright blue flowers I’ve never seen before. I see a welcome mat made of rubber, wind chimes hanging from a wooden beam, clay pots and a small shovel tucked into a corner. It’s everything we can never have anymore.

  Someone lives here.

  It’s impossible that this exists.

  I’m pulling Kenji and Adam toward the home, overcome with emotion, almost forgetting that we’re no longer allowed to live in this old, beautiful world.

  Someone is yanking me backward.

  “This isn’t it,” Kenji says to me. “This is the wrong street. Shit. This is the wrong street—we’re supposed to be two streets down—”

  “But this house—it’s—I mean, Kenji, someone lives here—”

  “No one lives here,” he says. “Someone probably set this up to throw us off—in fact, I bet that house is lined with C4. It’s probably a trap designed to catch people wandering unregulated turf. Now come on”—he yanks at my hand again—“we have to hurry. We have seven minutes!”

  And even though we’re running forward, I keep looking back, waiting to see some sign of life, waiting to see someone step outside to check the mail, waiting to see a bird fly by.

  And maybe I’m imagining it.

  Maybe I’m insane.

  But I could’ve sworn I just saw a curtain flutter in an upstairs window.

  THIRTY-THREE

  90 seconds.

  The real 1542 Sycamore is just as dilapidated as I’d originally imagined it would be. It’s a crumbling mess, its roof groaning under the weight of too many years’ negligence. Adam and Kenji and I are standing just around the corner, out of sight even though we’re technically still invisible. There is not a single person anywhere, and the entire house looks abandoned. I’m beginning to wonder if this was all just an elaborate joke.

  75 seconds.

  “You guys stay hidden,” I tell Kenji and Adam, struck by sudden inspiration. “I want him to think I’m alone. If anything goes wrong, you guys can jump in, okay? There’s too much of a risk that your presence will throw things off too quickly.”

  They’re both quiet a moment.

  “Damn. That’s a good idea,” Kenji says. “I should’ve thought of that.”

  I can’t help but grin, just a little. “I’m going to let go now.”

  “Hey—good luck,” Kenji says, his voice unexpectedly soft. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  “Juliette—”

  I hesitate at the sound of Adam’s voice.

  He almost says something but seems to change h
is mind. He clears his throat. Whispers, “Promise you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise,” I say into the wind, fighting back emotion. Not now. I can’t deal with this right now. I have to focus.

  So I take a deep breath.

  Step forward.

  Let go.

  10 seconds and I’m trying to breathe

  9

  and I’m trying to be brave

  8

  but the truth is I’m scared out of my mind

  7

  and I have no idea what’s waiting for me behind that door

  6

  and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a heart attack

  5

  but I can’t turn back now

  4

  because there it is

  3

  the door is right in front of me

  2

  all I have to do is knock

  1

  but the door flies open first.

  “Oh good,” he says to me. “You’re right on time.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “It’s refreshing, really,” he says. “To see that the youth still value things like punctuality. It’s always so frustrating when people waste my time.”

  My head is full of missing buttons and shards of glass and broken pencil tips. I’m nodding too slowly, blinking like an idiot, unable to find the words in my mouth either because they’re lost or because they never existed or simply because I have no idea what to say.

  I don’t know what I was expecting.

  Maybe I thought he’d be old and slumped and slightly blind. Maybe he’d be wearing a patch on one eye and have to walk with a cane. Maybe he’d have rotting teeth and ragged skin and coarse, balding hair and maybe he’d be a centaur, a unicorn, an old witch with a pointy hat anything anything anything but this. Because this isn’t possible. This is so hard for me to understand and whatever I was expecting was wrong so utterly, incredibly, horribly wrong.

  I’m staring at a man who is absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.

  And he is a man.

  He has to be at least 45 years old, tall and strong and silhouetted in a suit that fits him so perfectly it’s almost unfair. His hair is thick, smooth like hazelnut spread; his jawline is sharp, the lines of his face perfectly symmetrical, his cheekbones hardened by life and age. But it’s his eyes that make all the difference. His eyes are the most spectacular things I’ve ever seen.