“He’s not dead yet. I can get him out.”
“And I bet that you want to use my militia to attack the Haven? Do you think I’m an idiot? Go to hell, Roman.”
“You said it yourself, we need him alive.”
“We do. But we also need to survive. Fighting against Gavin, while Candle is still loose, will be the death of us.”
“Not if we get Spencer.”
“Oh sure. I’ll just let you take half my army and leave this Ministry exposed? Right when I’m in the most danger, you want me to abandon my defences.”
“If you’re right and Candle really is working with Spencer, then Candle will be looking to rescue him. He won’t be planning to attack you, not yet. This is our chance.”
“I won’t risk it.”
Roman ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I know it’s a risk, but we need to take this chance. We have an opportunity to capture Spencer and take out one of the biggest gangs in the city.”
“It would start a war between the Ministry and the gangs.”
“Then start a fucking war. You have to do something.”
“This conversation is over.”
Roman strode towards her, anger flaring in his chest. “You can’t hide here forever. One day, when the rest of Legacy has crumbled, and you’re the queen of rubble, you’ll regret that you did nothing to save it.”
“Get out. Now.”
“No.” He closed the distance between them, only stopping when their faces were inches apart. Or they would have been if she was taller. “I’m sick of being the only one who actually does anything for this city.”
“Don’t pretend you give a damn about this city.”
Juliette’s hazel eyes burned with rage, but Roman didn’t look away. He couldn’t. She was a wretched and pathetic Captain, and he would be damned before he gave her any satisfaction of victory over him.
“Get out of my sight,” she hissed.
Something sharp pressed into Roman’s neck. He looked down to see an arrow in Juliette’s hand, it’s tip cold against his skin.
He steadily pushed his neck forward. The metal dug deeper.
“Go on. Do it,” he said. “And then you’ll have no one left to do your dirty work for you.”
“You think you’re special, Roman.” She nudged the arrow forward. Roman’s reflexes overcame his will and he jerked back. “But you’re not.”
He spat at her feet. “If Candle kills you, it’ll be what you deserve. And my only regret will be that I didn’t do it myself.”
He walked out.
Back in the hallway, James escorted Roman back to the elevator. The boy was less nervous now that Roman was on his way out rather than in. This time, Roman was too lost in his own anger to bother with conversation.
Although, as the elevator’s doors open and Roman stepped inside, he couldn’t resist one final jab. “Hey kid, why do you even bother protecting the Captain?”
James thought about this for a moment. “Because she’s the captain?”
“Yeah, well, she’s also a bitch.”
James opened his mouth to respond, but the steel doors drew closed, and once again Roman stood alone in that cramped, square hell.
Roman wandered the streets. He should have been sick of walking by now — his limp was certainly getting worse — but still he plodded on, watching the cracks in the pavement pass underneath his worn boots. His rage had faded four blocks back. Somehow, the absence of its weight in his chest had left him feeling hollow.
For the hundredth time, he cursed himself for bothering to talk to Juliette. He had known it would be a waste. What a fool he was.
But not just a fool.
Also an asshole.
At the least, talking to Juliette had been a useful distraction from thinking about Ruby. But now the distraction was over. Roman thought about his conversation with Ruby last night, and how he should have kept his damn mouth shut.
A part of him was still angry at her, and had been for years. By managing to deal with her own grief and rage after losing Stevens, she had left him to suffer with his alone. For him, he didn’t want reconciliation, not after finding his best friend in pieces. He wanted justice.
But I failed at that, didn’t I? We never found the Adrenalite who killed him. He’s still loose, somewhere.
The streets were mostly empty. By now, anyone with a job was already working, leaving behind only the beggars. One sat on a set of crumbled steps, wrapped in a sackcloth blanket, shivering against the cool air.
Roman limped over and sat next to the beggar, who gave him a quick glance — revealing one brown eye and another of empty whiteness — then ignored him. Roman thought of introducing himself but decided neither of them really cared who the other was.
He looked up at the overcast sky. There’s a storm coming. Not today, but soon, he decided. I used to love storms when I was young.
The thought surprised him. Those memories no longer felt like his own. He remembered watching the clouds slowly darken and ranting to his dad about how much he wanted to see lightning, then when the storm came he would hide, both terrified and thrilled.
How long had it been since he had felt excited like that? He couldn’t remember. Truth be told, he couldn’t say whether he wanted to feel that way again. The idea of being happy filled him with guilt. He supposed that was his problem — he was guilty that he had survived, while Stevens died. He recalled Ruby’s anger, back in Gavin’s Haven. Are you trying to get killed? Maybe he was. Well, if that had been his intention, he had failed that, as well.
It might have been hours that Roman sat there. With the sun hidden in the clouds, there was no way of knowing. Eventually, he climbed back to his feet, stiff joints groaning. The beggar offered a grunt. A farewell, maybe? Roman offered a quick nod, then squared his shoulders and left.
His feet led him to the sixth district and the small house that he, Ruby and Tan called home. Squished between two high-rise buildings, the house looked like it was added as an afterthought. Its faded brick face was barely visible beneath the mesh of steel frames that supported it. Roman had personally made the supports — he didn’t like the idea of the building collapsing while he slept inside.
Tan stood on the steps that led up to the barred steel door, smoking. “No offense, Boss, but you look like shit.”
“Feel like it too.”
“You weren’t here last night.”
“I felt like a walk.”
“That’s a long walk.”
Roman leaned against the wall. It had been a hell of a journey; his legs felt like lead pipes. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smoke before.”
“I only let myself enjoy a cigarette when I’m celebrating.”
“What are you celebrating?”
“Nothing. I also smoke when I’m stressed.”
Roman chuckled. He began to massage his thighs, trying to nurse some feeling back into them.
Tan blew a cloud of smoke. “Sorry to say, I’ve got some bad news.”
“Whatever it is, tell me after I’ve slept. It’s already been enough of a shit day.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Roman let his silence answer for him.
Tan finished his cigarette and lit another, seemingly content to stand and watch the empty street. Roman gradually slipped down the wall until he was sitting on the footpath. The energy required to move inside and upstairs to his room felt like too much effort.
“I went to see Juliette this morning.” Roman couldn’t remember deciding to speak, the words just came out. “I asked her to help us break into the Haven.”
“Ain’t you the optimist.”
“I’m an idiot.”