Pawn (The Blackcoat Rebellion #1)(25)
Author: Aimee Carter

You’re here to do what I tell you. Don’t mistake your face with who you really are and what you’re worth to society. You are just as replaceable as Lila.”

“You think I don’t get that?” I said. “I know you own me. You didn’t need to kill Nina to prove it.”

His grip tightened, and I hissed in pain. “Do you know how we found you at that filthy club?” His eyes glittered with malevolence, and every trace of his usual charm-ing facade was gone. “We looked you up, Kitty Doe. We tracked you down. We went to your group home, and your matron lied for you. Now she’s paid the price, and you only have yourself to blame.”

I blinked back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of making me cry.

“Luckily we did manage to find someone who knew where you were going,” said Daxton. “Benjamin Doe.”

All the blood drained from my face, and my knees buckled. “What did you do to him?”

His lips twisted into a calculating smile. “I see I’ve hit a nerve. How fascinating.”

“Tell me what you did to him, or I’ll throw you out of this jet.”

He chuckled. “I would love to see you try. We’ve done nothing to him yet. He shows quite a bit of promise, and we are of course keeping an eye on him, but he’s safe for the time being. You have my word that as long as you behave, he will live a long and happy life.”

So that was it. As sure as I’d been that they couldn’t possibly have known about Benjy, they knew anyway, and now his life was directly attached to how well I could sit, stay, and roll over.

There was nothing Daxton could possibly do that could ever make me hurt Benjy. Even if it meant putting up with this and staying silent about the things Lila had the courage to fight, Daxton had me, and he knew it.

When the jet landed and the pilot welcomed us back to the District of Columbia, I was so worn down and weary that I allowed Daxton to take my arm and lead me down the steps. Just like every other decent thing Daxton did, I knew it was only to show a waiting Celia that he had me, and her expression hardened as we walked toward the cars.

“Have a nice hunt?” she said. Daxton released me, and Celia wrapped her arm protectively around my shoulders.

“Lovely,” said Daxton as a guard opened the door for him. “I’m afraid all the excitement seems to have worn

Lila out, though, so as soon as we get back to Somerset, you may want to put the poor dear to bed.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” said Celia coldly. After Daxton got into the first car, Celia ushered me into the second, where Knox was waiting. I said nothing until the door was closed and we were driving away.

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

Celia fixed a drink from some sort of icebox in the side of the car, and she thrust the cold glass into my hand.

“Because you needed to see it for yourself. Drink.”

“He killed Nina,” I said. “She was practically my mother.”

“I’m sorry,” said Celia. “Truly. But there’s nothing we can do about that now, and you need to calm down.

You’re shaking. Please, drink.”

No, but there was something she could’ve done about it that morning. I took a sip and nearly spat the burning liquid out. “That’s disgusting.”

“It’s brandy,” she said. “It’ll help calm your nerves.”

I wrinkled my nose and set the drink aside. “What I need is a damn phone.”

“Don’t say damn, ” she said, and Knox wordlessly fished something out of his pocket and offered it to me.

“What is that?” I said, taking it warily. It was a piece of glass roughly the size of my little finger, and it was so thin that I was afraid I would snap it in two.

“A phone,” he said. “Touch the screen.”

I brushed my fingertip against the surface. It lit up with blue symbols, and there were so many that I didn’t know which to press first. “How do I dial?”

Celia snatched it from me. “Who are you calling?”

“None of your damn business,” I said. She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not trying to stop you. Tell me the number and I’ll dial it for you, but first I want to know who you’re calling.”

“A friend,” I snapped. “To make sure he’s still alive. Is that all right with you?”

Knox grabbed his phone. “Both of you, stop it. Kitty, what’s the number?”

I rattled off the number of the group home, and he dialed and pushed a button so I could hear it. Instead of ringing, however, the line clicked, and a cheerful voice spoke. “We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

Knox pressed another button, and the blue light went dark. “Are you sure that’s the right number?”

“Positive,” I said numbly. “I’ve known it forever. Can you—can you try again?”

I repeated the number slowly, but the same message played. My chest tightened as if someone were squeezing a fist around my heart. “I don’t understand. It was working before.”

“Any number of things could have happened,” said Knox. “Nina was the matron of your group home, right?

They probably shut it down after she was arrested and sent the kids somewhere else.”

“They wouldn’t hurt him, would they?” I said. “He’s not even seventeen yet.”

Celia sat across from us, her legs crossed and her foot bobbing up and down as she studied me. “What did Daxton say to you?”

“Does it matter?” Knowing Daxton, Benjy was probably already dead.

“It matters a great deal,” she said. “If there’s something I can do to help you, I will.”

“You’ve done a great job so far, seeing as how I’m stuck in this situation to begin with.”

“You’re the one who agreed to this mess, Kitty, not me, and whining about it isn’t going to change a thing.

You’ve been given an incredible opportunity, and if you waste it by letting Daxton blackmail you into being his puppet, I will kill you myself. So tell me,” she said.

“What did he say to you?”

I turned away and rested my forehead against the cool window. It was tinted so that no one outside could see us, but I could see everything through the waning light of dusk. We drove through a part of the city I’d never been to before. Shining glass buildings rose high above us, and everything looked brand-new. Even the streetlamps were so bright that I had to squint. The wealth in this section, undoubtedly meant for Vs and VIs, was obvious. The buildings in the Heights were squat, made of brick, and older than any citizen who occupied them. There was no newness, only old that was no longer needed and could be handed down to us, the people who weren’t valuable enough to merit glass skyscrapers or shiny cars or fruit that wasn’t hours away from rotting.