Pawn (The Blackcoat Rebellion #1)(14)
Author: Aimee Carter

“And you won’t kill me?” I said.

“Do what we want, and there will be no need for anyone to die,” he said. “I promise.”

It was the voice he used when he promised a better life for IIs and IIIs. When he promised new opportunities and chances for those who were stuck serving and cleaning up after the rich and powerful. It was the same voice he used every time he swore that if we worked hard and did our best, we would get the rank—the life we deserved.

Even if I did this, they would kill me eventually, but I would have a few more months or years to figure out how to escape. I couldn’t change what they’d done to me, but I could use Lila’s privilege to find a way out of it. And a way back to Benjy.

“Are you—are you all right with this?” I said to Celia.

“Seems I have about as much choice as you do,” she said frostily. “But if you’re asking if I will help, yes.

Enough people have died for my dear brother’s ambitions. No need to add to the body count.”

Daxton set his hand over the place where his heart would have been if he’d had one. “I’m wounded, Celia, truly. If you have a problem with it, talk to Mother, not me. I’m merely following her instructions.”

“Of course you are,” said Celia. She set the camera down on my bedside table and reached toward me. For a moment I thought she was going to touch my face— Lila’s face—but her hand stopped short, and she pulled away. “Once the medication has run its course, I will help you learn all you need to know. Knox must be told, as well,” she added, directing that at Daxton. “And your son, if you haven’t told him yet.”

“I won’t be telling Greyson,” said Daxton shortly. “And neither will you.”

“Of course not,” said Celia. “Wouldn’t want him knowing you killed his cousin so soon after the deaths of his mother and brother, would we?”

A wave of dizziness hit me. I’d have to deal with Greyson, Daxton’s eighteen-year-old son, along with every other member of the Hart family. I’d grown up seeing their faces on television and hearing their voices on the news, and now I wouldn’t just be meeting them. I’d be one of them.

Originally Jameson, Greyson’s older brother, had been set to inherit the country. But now, once Daxton died, Greyson’s name would replace his father’s as the only one on the ballot every four years. I didn’t know why Daxton didn’t want to tell him about me, and I didn’t care, but I couldn’t remember a Knox in the news articles Benjy read to me every morning.

“Who’s Knox?”

“Lennox Creed,” said Celia. “He prefers Knox.”

The beeping next to my bed accelerated. Lennox Creed was famous not for his father, who was one of the Ministers of the Union, but for his antics inside the exclusive nightclubs and parties that no V could ever dream of getting into, let alone a III.

And he was Lila’s fiancé.

“Do I still have to—”

“Yes,” said Daxton, cutting me off. “Like it or not, darling, from here on out, you’re Lila until I tell you otherwise. Hold up your end of the bargain, and I’ll hold up mine. Sound fair?”

When the end resulted in my death no matter what I said—no, it didn’t. “Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice,” I said, echoing Celia’s words. When Daxton continued to watch me expectantly, I swallowed.

“Sounds fair.”

Celia sniffed and stared down her nose at me. “If you’re going to do this, you might as well do it right. Is the tattoo there?”

“The VII?” I said. “It’s there.”

“Not that one,” she said, and she faced Daxton. I closed my eyes and ignored them as they discussed every tiny detail of Lila’s body, and their voices faded into the background.

A VII for life, but it wouldn’t last long. One less sanitation worker wasn’t anything for the Harts to cry about, and when they didn’t need me anymore, that would be the end of it. The only chance I had at survival was to make sure they needed me until I was ready to make a break for it.

Stay alive. Stay safe. Make Daxton think I was his, and one day I would find a way out of this and back to Benjy. Those were the things that mattered. Whatever Daxton made me do in the meantime would be worth it.

But what was so important that they had to keep Lila alive through me? The people loved her, but tragedies happened. What had she done to make her life so indispensable?

And why had Daxton killed her in the first place?

I didn’t mean to fall asleep. When I woke up, Daxton was gone, and sunlight streamed into the room through a window behind me that I hadn’t noticed earlier. All I could see through it was blue sky, but at least now I had another way out of here if I needed it.

I rolled over to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight, and I noticed the white couch on the other side of the room. With a jolt I remembered what had happened.

I touched my face—Lila’s face—and felt the strange angles and curves. Even her skin was smoother than mine had ever been.

My neck itched, and as I started to scratch it, I froze.

I could move.

I stared at my hands. The skin was so white I looked like I’d never been outside, my nails were perfect and smooth, and when I pressed my fingertips together, they throbbed. Now that the medication had worn off, I could feel every little thing they’d done, and my face wasn’t the only thing they’d changed.

Pushing the blanket from my body, I examined the skin exposed around my flimsy hospital gown. So much paler than my own, without a single freckle or mole. My hip felt tender, and when I pulled up the gown, I saw a delicate tattoo of a butterfly.

So that was what Celia had been talking about. The media would’ve had a field day if they’d known their precious Lila had had it.

“See something you like?” said an unfamiliar voice, and I yanked the blanket back over my lap. Leaning against the doorway, with his arms crossed and his dark hair tousled as if he’d just stepped indoors on a windy day, was Lennox Creed.

Knox. Lila’s fiancé. My fiancé.

I scowled. “She has a tattoo.”

“We all do.” Knox rubbed the back of his neck, and a small thrill ran through me. Did I outrank him? Outranking IIs was nothing, but if he really was a VI…

“On her hip,” I said. “Of a butterfly.”

“Ah, that one.” He stepped into the room and pulled off his jacket. By the time he reached my bedside, I could smell the cold leather. “She had a lot of secrets.”