Adrian shook his head, eyes scanning the letter. “Everything that goes over the system is subject to review and inspection. Evidently”—the corner of his mouth lifted as he met her gaze—“they don’t want the whole organization to know they’ve approved our request to talk to the Puppeteer.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“I DON’T THINK I SHOULD GO,” said Nova, trailing behind Adrian as he barreled through the tables in the cafeteria.
“What are you talking about?” he said, without looking back at her. “Of course you should go.”
“You don’t need me,” she insisted. “I don’t know anything about interrogating people. And … and I could get started on that cataloging job, right? Really, I’ll just be in the way.”
Adrian stopped and spun toward her. Nova drew up short, shrinking beneath his concerned gaze.
“Are you afraid of the Puppeteer?” he asked, astonished.
Her face scrunched. “No,” she said, before she realized that saying yes would have gotten her closer to her goal of not being in that room with the one person in headquarters who knew exactly who she was … and who had no idea that she was impersonating a Renegade. “I mean, he is totally creepy. And I don’t like … puppets. Or marionettes. Even sock puppets freaked me out when I was a kid, so I guess, yeah. Yeah, I might be afraid of him after all. Can I sit this one out?”
Adrian’s face took on that calm, understanding look that Nova was developing a love-hate relationship with. “They’ll have him restrained. We’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, his powers only work on kids.”
“I don’t want to go. Please.”
Adrian blinked and finally, she sensed his resolve crumbling. Hope surged through her veins.
“Nova…，” he said finally, gently, “you were the only one on that rooftop with the Detonator and the Librarian. You might have insights into the Anarchists and their connections that would be lost on the rest of us. And let’s face it, you’re really observant. You might pick up on something that we would miss. So … I’m sorry, but I think we need you there.” He smiled hesitantly, as if to soften the denial of her request. “I promise, he isn’t a danger to us. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
She swallowed, wishing she could believe that was true.
He turned away, heading toward Ruby and Oscar, who were seated at a small table near the corner. Ruby’s plate was empty but for a few leftover shreds of lettuce, and Oscar was protecting his own plate from her as she attempted to stab one of his black olives with her fork.
“They have an entire bin full of olives!” Oscar shouted. He lifted his plate off the table, holding it as far out of her reach as possible. “Go get your own!”
“You don’t even like olives,” Ruby shot back, nearly falling into his lap as she leaned across him, fork jabbing at the air. “You only got them to taunt me!”
“Okay, lovebirds,” said Adrian, dropping the envelope onto the table.
Ruby immediately fell back into her chair, face reddening, whereas Oscar grinned, looking supremely pleased with the label.
“Our request has been granted. We have thirty minutes to prepare our questions.”
They both stared at him, confused.
“Request for what?” said Oscar, at the same time Ruby asked, “What questions?”
Adrian looked between them and sighed.
*
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Nova found herself trapped inside a metal room, sandwiched between Ruby and Adrian as they listened to the door locks clunking behind them. A second door stood opposite them—through which they would bring in the prisoner. A single table was bolted to the center of the floor, along with two chairs, one on each side. On the far side of the table were shackles, the thick wrist cuffs attached to metal domes that would fully enclose the hands, crafted especially for prodigies who needed use of their hands and fingers to manifest their abilities.
Had they suspected they would be facing the Detonator when they set up their surveillance on the library, Nova guessed the team would have been outfitted with similar handcuffs too, rather than the standard cuffs they’d been given.
“So…，” said Oscar, nodding at the nearest chair, “are you going to take that?”
Adrian shook his head. “Go for it.”
“I don’t need it,” said Oscar, with a casual, one-shouldered shrug. “You’re the head honcho here. If you want it—”