Torn (A Wicked Trilogy 2) - Page 23

Deep in my core, I knew it was her and not just some random girl with curly hair. Tension poured into my muscles as I picked up my step, keeping close to the edge of the sidewalk as I followed her. She was still on Bourbon, now nearing the corner of Bienville when she looked over her shoulder.

My heart stopped. Even though we were nearly a block apart, I could swear our eyes met. She turned back around quickly and started running—like full-on sprinting.

I took off after her, dodging people, which was not easy at this time of night, but there was no way I was going to let her get away from me. Heart pumping and my bag thumping off my hip, I kept going.

There wasn’t time to call Ren or any other member of the Order, and to be honest, confronting Val in front of anyone wouldn’t be wise. Since she was working with the fae, she had to know what I was.

Darting around a group of college-aged guys who were watching someone bravely stagger across the street, I almost lost sight of her as I hit Iberville. I thought she might’ve turned down that street, but then I spotted her further up on Bourbon, nearing Canal.

Dammit. She was fast.

I couldn’t let her cross Canal. From there, she could hop on one of the trollies and end up in God knew where. So I dug in and really pushed it. My stomach ached, reminding me that I had, in fact, almost died not too long ago, but I ignored the burn and kept going.

I was quickly gaining on her, then she turned left on Canal and raced down the block. Without warning, she darted into one of the hotels. I followed, bypassing a startled-looking bellhop.

Music and laughter filled the lobby of the hotel. I turned wildly, scanning in all directions. A door across from the elevators drifted shut, and I knew, just freaking knew it was her.

Motherfucker, she’d gone up the stairs.

Jesus, I was going to punch her in the face just for that alone.

Calling on every ounce of willpower I had left, I threw open the door and charged up the stairs. Reaching the second floor landing, I looked up and saw her two floors above me. “Val!” I shouted. “Stop!”

She didn’t.

Of course not.

Not when she knew how much I hated stairs. Running up them was like lying down in front of a slow-ass moving, heavy as hell trolley and letting it run you over.

Halfway up the stairs, I was grasping the railing as I fought to keep going. How many stories was this hotel? A hundred? Just when I thought my legs were going to give out, cool air washed over me and invaded the warm, stale air of the stairwell. Rounding one more fight, I saw the door to the roof was wide open, the pieces of a rusty handle on the dirty cement floor.

I burst out onto the roof and immediately saw Val standing in the center, her back to me. The sun had set, and moonlight flowed across the pavement, giving way to deep shadows near the churning units covering most of the roof.

Winded, I stopped and placed a hand to my side. “Stairs?” I squeaked. “Really?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t follow.” She turned slowly, facing me. “You hate stairs.”

“No shit,” I gasped, wondering if I was going to pass out. “How did you break the handle on the door?”

“Drop kick,” she replied. “You know I have strong legs.”

Legs of freaking steel right there. Dragging in deep gulps of air, I focused on her—on the girl who used to be my best friend. We stared at each other for several moments, neither of us saying a word. Then Val spoke first.

“You just had to follow me, didn’t you?” Val pushed the curls back from her face and then dropped her hands, shaking her head. “You couldn’t just not have seen me and went on your merry way?”

I stared at her. “That’s a stupid question.”

She sneered at me.

“You were down there, where any Order member could’ve seen you. Are you surprised that one did?” I asked.

“I’ve been careful,” she said, and the sleeve of her bright blouse slipped off her shoulder. “No one has seen me until now.”

I kept my hands at my sides, watching her closely. “Why would you be down in the Quarter?”

“Ivy, I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Of course not,” I muttered as she met my gaze again. The pain of her betrayal blossomed in my chest like a noxious weed. “Why?”

“Why what?” she asked.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” I stepped forward, and she tensed. “Why did you do this? How could you betray us like you did?”

Her pressed her lips together, not responding.

“People died, Val. People you knew. Who you worked with and who trusted you,” I continued, and the bitter betrayal gave way to red-hot anger. “I almost died, Val. Your best friend. The person who trusted—”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” she fired back, her hands closing into fists at her sides. “You followed me, Ivy. You followed me and the prince. Who the fuck does that?”

“Me!” I shouted. “I kept thinking they had you under their control. That they were manipulating you. That was why I followed. I followed you because I care about you and you almost got me killed.”

“But you didn’t get killed, did you?”

“That’s not the point, dumbass.”

Her eyes rolled. “Why are we even standing here talking about this? I know you’ve been given orders to kill me or bring me in, but you want to stand here and talk me to death.”

“I want to know why the fuck you did this! I don’t even care about the Order,” I admitted, my voice cracking with raw emotion. “You did this to me! I want to know why.”

Val’s shoulders rose, and I could tell she wanted to look away, but knew better than to do that at this point. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” I snapped back. “You got your parents killed, Val. Do you know that? They were executed because of you.”

She flinched. “That was . . . sad.”

“Sad?”

Her nostrils flared. “Jesus, Ivy, sacrifices have to be made. It’s not like they didn’t live a long and happy life.”

My mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe you.”

“But you should.”

“Stop talking in cliffhangers!” I was losing my patience.

“Jesus, Ivy, are you really happy working for the Order? Spending what limited time you have on this Earth, putting your life on the line every day for a bunch of people who literally can’t even stop from drinking themselves to death? You’re happy getting up every morning knowing that there is about a fifty-percent chance you’re going to die that day and get paid shit for it?”

My jaw worked. “We get paid pretty well.”

“For going out there and defending those fuckers, knowing we’re going to eventually die doing it?” She flung her arm out toward the ledge of the roof. “No. We don’t get paid enough for this shit. And you know we can’t just quit. We were born into this, cosmically pulling the short straw on life.”

She was right about the not quitting part. It wasn’t exactly unheard of, but it wasn’t easy.

“And I know you’re not happy,” she continued. “That’s why you take college classes—”

“Yeah, I take college classes, but I don’t betray everyone I know,” I shot back in a state of disbelief. “If you we

re this unhappy, you could’ve just walked away from it.”

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout A Wicked Trilogy Fantasy
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