I get it.
In my less charitable moments I might call him a coward, but I get it. I’d opt out, too, if I could. I just don’t feel like I can.
There’s still too much I’m willing to die for.
Anyway. Juliette is pretty much invincible, so as long as she keeps her Energy on, she should be fine. The rest of us are vulnerable—but at the first sign of danger we’re supposed to scatter. We’re too outnumbered to fight; our best chance of survival is to spread out, spread far.
That’s the plan.
That’s the whole goddamn plan.
We hardly even had time to talk about the plan, because everything has been so insane lately, but Castle gave us all a quick pep talk before J took the stage, and that was it. That was all we were going to get. A quick good luck and I hope you don’t die.
I’m definitely nervous.
I shift my weight, feeling suddenly restless, as the crowd goes still. It’s a sea of military faces, the iconic red/green/blue stripes of The Reestablishment emblazoned on every uniform. I know they’re regular people—blood and guts and bones—but they look like machines. And they turn their heads up at the same time, eyes blinking in unison as Juliette begins to speak.
It’s creepy as hell.
We always knew that no one outside of Sector 45 would willingly accept Juliette as their new supreme commander, but it’s chilling to witness in person. They clearly have no respect for Juliette, and as she talks about her love for the people, for the hardworking men and women whose lives were stripped for parts, I can see them strain to contain their anger. There’s a reason so many are still loyal to The Reestablishment—and the proof of it is right here, in this room. These people are paid better. They’re given perks, privileges. I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but once you see the things people are willing to do for an extra bowl of rice, you can’t unsee it. The Reestablishment keeps their higher-ups happy. They don’t have to mingle with the masses. They get to keep their finery and live in real homes on unregulated territory.
These men and women sneering at Juliette as she speaks—they don’t want her version of the world. They don’t want to lose their rank and the privileges that rank affords. Everything she’s saying about the failures of The Reestablishment, about the need to start over and give the people back their homes, their families, their voices— Her words are a threat to their livelihood.
So it’s really no surprise at all to me when the crowd decides they’ve had enough. I feel their restlessness growing more wild as she speaks, and when someone suddenly stands up and screams at her—makes fun of her—I worry this won’t end well. Juliette keeps cool, keeps talking even as more of them jump to their feet and shout. They’re shaking their fists and demanding she be removed from the podium, demanding she be executed for treason, demanding she be imprisoned, at the very least, for speaking against The Reestablishment, but her voice can hardly be heard over the crowd.
And then she starts shouting.
This is bad. This is really, really bad, and my instincts are telling me to panic, that this will only end in bloodshed. I’m trying to look around and still keep my cool, but when Warner catches my eye I know, right away, that he gets it. We’re both thinking the same thing: Abort mission.
Get the hell out of here as soon as possible.
And then—
“This was an ambush. Tell your team to run. Now.”
I spin around in an exaggerated motion, so freaked out I nearly lose my balance. I’m hearing Nazeera. I’m hearing Nazeera. I’m sure I’m hearing her voice. The problem is, I don’t see her anywhere.
Am I dying? I must be dying.
“Kenji. Listen to me.”
I freeze in place.
I can feel the warmth of her body edging up against mine. I can feel her mouth at my ear, the gentle whisper of her breath against my skin. Jesus. I know how this works. I invented this shit.
“You’re invisible,” I say, so quietly I hardly move my lips.
I feel the tickle of her hair against my neck as she leans closer, and I have to suppress the urge to shiver. It’s so strange. So strange to be feeling so many emotions at once. Terror, fear, worry, want. It’s confusing. And her hand is on my arm when she says, “I was hoping to explain later. But now you know. And now you have to run.”
Shit.
I turn to Ian, who’s standing to the left of me, and say, “It’s time to bail, bro. Let’s go.”
Ian looks at me, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second, and then he grabs Lily’s hand and shouts, “Run—RUN—”