I flipped it open, and my real face greeted me with a smile. It was my school picture, clipped to a report card I couldn’t read. I must have been seven or eight—I still had freckles from staying out in the sun too long, and I was missing my front tooth.
Tearing my eyes away, I flipped through the other pictures. There were more than I could have ever imagined, detailing every important moment of my life, including what looked like the day I was born. I squinted at the typed pages that filled the folder to bursting, hoping in vain that the words would make sense for the first time in my life. But they remained a mystery, and the only clues I had were those pictures.
Some of them were noticeably older than the others, yellowing around the edges and slightly discolored. This wasn’t a file Augusta had compiled after I’d been Masked as Lila—she’d been keeping tabs on me throughout my entire life. But why?
I frowned. As badly as I wanted to know, I had another more important question right now, and I was holding the answer in my hands. There was only one file left I hadn’t looked through, and I opened the pages, careful not to touch whatever was inside.
It was slimmer than mine, but still full of the same things—papers I couldn’t read, what looked like a copy of the test everyone in the country had to take on their seventeenth birthday, and certificates I didn’t recognize. And at the bottom of the pile was a single photograph.
Two young men with light hair and dark eyes stood side by side, sporting carefree smiles I envied. They both wore black uniforms, and insignias on their lapels announced their high ranks. One of the men looked strangely familiar, but they both resembled one another in a way that only family could. Brothers? They had to be. They had the same nose, the same eyes, and the same dimpled chin, and the way they slung their arms around one another made it obvious they were more than comrades or patrol partners.
Which one had been Masked as Daxton? I glanced back and forth between them. Did I recognize the man on the left because I subconsciously associated him with Daxton, or had I seen him before? And the man on the right—he shared Daxton’s eyes, the only part of the human body doctors couldn’t modify to resemble someone else’s. Then again, they both did.
The soft sound of footsteps outside the door pulled me from my trance, and I snapped the folder shut and gathered the rest. As silently as I could, I tucked the unnecessary folders back into the safe and closed the portrait before climbing up the bookshelves toward the grate, my file and Daxton’s tucked securely in my arm.
Once I settled back in the ventilation system, I took a deep breath, my mind spinning. Benjy would tell me what was in my file. He would read it to me, and I would know within the hour what secrets Augusta had kept from me.
But if I went to Knox instead, it was the other file that would give me leverage. It could buy me a way to keep Benjy safe outside of Somerset. Something this valuable to the Blackcoats—it could be the ticket to everything we both wanted. I couldn’t change my past, but my future was wide-open. And I wanted it to be as far from D.C. as possible.
My mind made up, I crawled through the vent, pushing the files along in front of me. If Knox wanted to know who Daxton really was, then I hoped he was in the mood to bargain.
IV
CURIOSITY KILLED
THE CAT
By the time I dropped back into my suite, I held only my thick folder. It had taken me another twenty minutes to hide the fake Daxton’s file where no one would ever find it, not without my help, and the only way Knox was going to get it was if he helped me first.
Now that that was done, I turned to unlock the door that led out into the hallway, wondering if Knox was still standing there or if he’d given up and returned to his suite by now. Either way, we had to talk before I left, and I wasn’t going to wait until morning.
“You know you’re not supposed to crawl around the vents anymore.”
I jumped and whirled around, the folder nearly slipping from my grip. Knox sat in front of my fireplace, his dark eyes gleaming with annoyance and a glass of something I wasn’t so sure was water in his hand.
“Have you really been waiting this whole time?” I said casually as if this wasn’t weird at all. I crossed the room to Lila’s desk and set the file down.
Knox rose. “Where have you been, Kitty?” he said, a note of warning in his voice. “It’s been an hour.”
“Saving your cowardly ass, that’s where.”
“My ass is anything but cowardly,” he said as he approached, glass still in hand. I wrinkled my nose. Definitely not water. “What’s that?”
“This?” I opened the file and began to flip through it. “Oh, you know, nothing too much. Just my entire past.” I held up a picture of me at five years old. “Care to explain why Augusta had this?”
Knox furrowed his brow and snatched the file from the desk. A handful of pictures fluttered to the floor. “Where did you get this?”
“The same place I found Daxton’s file,” I said, bending down to pick up the photos. “Along with evidence of who he really is. You’re welcome.”
“I’m not thanking you.” A second later, the weight of what I’d said seemed to settle over him, and he stilled in the middle of rifling through the pages. “You have a file like this on the fake Daxton?”
I nodded. “There’s only one picture, but it has other documents that must have his name on them somewhere.”
“Where is it?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “Help Benjy and me get to the bunker safely, guarantee us the Blackcoats’ protection, and I’ll tell you where it is. After you tell me why Augusta has been watching me my whole life, of course.”
He moved closer, towering over me. “The Blackcoats need that file, Kitty.”
“And I need to get out of here before you decide I’m not worth the trouble and have me and Benjy killed,” I said. Shock flickered across his face, and his eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe I would ever think that poorly of him.
Good. Now he knew what it was like.
Knox’s expression quickly returned to a smooth mask of neutrality, and he stared at me. “You know I would never do that.”
“Do I? Because lately I’m not so sure. I’m a liability, remember?”
Silence settled over us for the better part of half a minute. Without responding, he flipped through the file, his gaze lingering on a picture of Benjy and me on his sixteenth birthday. I’d scooped a glob of green frosting from my piece of cake and wiped it onto the tip of his nose, and in retaliation, he’d kissed me, smearing some of it on my cheek. It was one of the most recent photographs in the collection.
“It’s a win-win situation for you,” I said. “Tell me what it says, and I’ll not only tell you where Daxton’s file is, but I’ll also be out of your hair permanently. You’ll never have to deal with me again.”
He sighed. “If this is because of what I said before—”
“This is because I have a right to make my own choices and know what’s going on in my own life, and I don’t trust you to tell me without incentive,” I said coolly.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Why are you leaving, Kitty? You’re not only going to hurt yourself, but the rebellion, too. You’re no good to us locked in a bunker.”
“Apparently I’m no good to you anyway,” I said. “You don’t have to make this difficult, Knox. Just help me, and you’ll get your information. If you don’t want to, then I’ll have Benjy read the file to me instead, and the Blackcoats will never find Daxton’s folder without my help. I guarantee it. But one way or the other, I am leaving.”
He had no way of knowing that I had every intention of handing Daxton’s folder over to Sampson if he wouldn’t help me, but after all we’d been through, part of me desperately wanted to see a flicker of the old Knox again. The one who had believed I could be Li
la when no one else would. The one who had treated me like I mattered.
His foot tapped impatiently, but at last he muttered, “Fine. All that’s in here are old report cards and progress reports from your matron.”
I exhaled. “Keep looking. There has to be something.”
Knox frowned, and his gaze shifted back to the pages inside the file. He flipped through them, reading the words I couldn’t. Page after page after page, with no flicker in his expression to give anything away. Slowly doubts began to creep into my mind. Maybe it was useless. Despite the obvious aging in several of the pictures and papers, maybe Augusta had found them after the fact and collected them inside the file.
Knox turned another page, and his foot stopped tapping. He stilled, and his eyes scanned the same document over and over. My heart leaped.
“What is it?” I said, craning my neck to try to see what he was looking at. A certificate of some sort—one with the official Hart seal on it. He pulled the file away before I could get a good look, but it wouldn’t have helped anyway. As always, the letters on the page looked like gibberish.
“Did anyone see you?” he said. The edge to his voice made me square my shoulders.
“Of course not. What does it say?”
He ignored my question. “Good. Now for the last time—where did you get this?”
“I’m not playing this game with you, Knox. What does that say?”
He slapped the folder down on the end table. “It’s the sad story of a girl who was born an Extra, got terrible grades in school, received a III after failing to complete her test, and then blew the opportunity of a lifetime to help not only herself, but the entire country just because she was too stubborn to cooperate. I don’t know how it ends, but at this point, I can virtually guarantee you that her sad life is going to be a short one if she keeps acting like this.”
“My sad life was always going to be a short one,” I said. “If you ever want Daxton’s file, you’re going to cut the bullshit and tell me what you read. Now.”
His eyes flickered to the left before locking on mine again. “A report on the operations they put you through to turn you into Lila. It took longer than I thought, that’s all. There’s nothing in there about why Augusta was watching you or why they chose you—just report cards and pictures.”
I set my jaw. He was lying. I’d never said anything about wanting to know why they’d chosen me to be Lila. I already knew the answer: our eyes were the same rare shade of blue. But with one slip of the tongue, Knox had told me there was more to it. And he had also told me I couldn’t trust him anymore.
We stood only inches apart, and he ducked his head, his lips brushing my ear. “Tell me where you got this, Kitty, before Daxton discovers it’s missing.”
“I’ll put it back,” I said.
“No, you won’t.” We both reached for the folder at the same time, but Knox, with his lightning-fast reflexes, snatched it up first. I glowered at him. “We both know you’re going to go straight to Benjy and make him read every page to you.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” I said. “If you’re telling the truth, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I have plenty to worry about, especially if you found this where I think you did,” he said. “Is the other file there, too?”
I considered him for a long moment. “Yes,” I lied. “And if you let me put mine back, I’ll bring you Daxton’s.”
“Not a chance,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time before Daxton notices it’s missing, and I won’t have someone killed for your curiosity. You’re lucky Daxton doesn’t—”
He stopped suddenly, and his face went from red to pale to ashen in seconds as he flipped through the file again. I frowned. “What?” I said.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “He knows you’re Masked,” said Knox. “If he hid this file after Augusta died, then he knows.”
“Oh.” I exhaled. “Right. He remembers everything that happened—that I was Masked, that I tried to kill him, that Celia was probably in on it...everything. He’s been lying the whole time.”
Knox clutched the file and closed it again, slower this time. “He remembers everything? All of it? How—” He clenched his jaw, and I could see the muscles shifting underneath his skin. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because—because after Augusta’s funeral, he touched the ridges on the back of my neck and made it obvious he knows everything. And—” I swallowed hard. “I might’ve touched his, too.”
The ridges below our tattoos were the only things that set us apart from the real Harts. My VII hid a III—my real rank. The fake Daxton’s VII hid a V, the rank he’d been before being Masked as the Prime Minister. They were the only evidence anyone had to prove we’d been Masked, and as Harts, we were lucky enough that no one would ever question our VIIs. Except each other.
Knox exhaled sharply and turned away from me. From the way his shoulders rose and fell, it was obvious he was trying to collect himself. At last he faced me again, his neutral expression barely hiding the rage lurking underneath.
“You didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me this sooner?” he said, and I shrugged.
“What difference would it make?”
“It makes all the difference in the world.” His voice broke. “You have no idea—”
“So tell me,” I said. “Instead of treating me like a child and keeping secrets from me, why don’t you try trusting me instead?”
“Like you trusted me with this?” His expression grew dark. “Where did you find this file, Kitty?”
“I—”
“Where did you find it?”
I scowled. “Daxton’s office, behind the portrait. But you can’t just waltz in there in the middle of the night and—”
Before I could finish, Knox was already halfway out the door. Despite the heavy boots he wore, the plush carpet absorbed the sound of his footsteps, and I ran after him.
“Knox—wait. Wait.” I caught up to him and grabbed his elbow. “The other file, it—”
“You will stay here,” said Knox dangerously. “And you will never mention this to anyone, do you understand me?”
My mouth opened and shut. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a file.”
“And you stole it,” he said. “There was a reason I was the one assigned to this job and not you. I can read and gather all the relevant information without Daxton ever knowing we have it—and without ever knowing the Blackcoats have support in Somerset. Now, thanks to you, all of that’s in jeopardy. If he discovers you’re behind this, then he will figure out I’m helping you. Do you understand?”
“But—it doesn’t have to be you,” I said. “It could be anyone—”
“Who else? Benjy?”
All the air left my lungs, and I could feel the blood drain from my face, leaving my skin cold and clammy. “No. He doesn’t have anything to do with this, and you will not frame him—”
“If you get caught, then it’s either him or me,” said Knox. “Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to win the game.”
“You won’t,” I said, rage surging through me. “If you try, I’ll tell Daxton everything. I don’t care if he kills me.”
“Then let’s both try to make it out of this alive,” said Knox coldly. “Stay here and let me fix this. I won’t tell you again.”
He walked away, his strides long and purposeful, and for a moment I considered not following him. All I had to do was grab the duffel bag I’d hidden and walk straight into Knox’s suite, and Benjy and I would be halfway across the city before Knox realized what we’d done. We’d be free.
I was two steps from the door before I stopped myself. We wouldn’t be free. We would never be free, not until Daxton was dead and Greyson—or Knox, or Celia, or whoever was in charge—gave me my
life back. The Shields would hunt us until they found us, and if we were lucky, they’d kill us before Daxton had the chance to send us Elsewhere. There was no such thing as freedom, not in this country, and if Knox was serious about framing Benjy for his crimes, then there was no telling what Daxton might do to him for treason.
I had to know what Knox was doing. He’d kept me in the dark long enough—I couldn’t let him run the show, not this time.
My mind made up, I took off down the hallway, avoiding the corners where the guards were positioned. I ducked through the atrium and past the elevator, making sure I was below the railing so the guards couldn’t see me. My footsteps were as silent as Knox’s, and before long, I crouched a few rooms down from the entrance to Daxton’s suite. Two guards stood outside, both alert with their eyes straight forward. I swore inwardly.
I slipped through the nearest open door, into a dark sitting room meant for guests of the Prime Minister. Squinting, I peered into the corners, and relief washed over me when I spotted a vent.
Within seconds, I climbed onto an end table and pulled myself up. I had memorized the ventilation system when I’d first moved into Somerset, and it was only two quick turns to Daxton’s private living quarters.
I stilled, listening for any signs of life. In the distance, I picked up a soft murmur, but it was too far away for me to make out. Fear prickled in the base of my spine. If Daxton had caught Knox trying to replace my file...
Crawling as quickly as I dared, I made my way from room to room, searching for the source of the conversation. His bedroom and sitting rooms were empty; the same with his multiple guest rooms. At last I came to his office, and with a sinking heart, I situated myself over the vent. Two voices rose up to meet me: Daxton’s and Knox’s.
“...don’t care,” said Daxton, his tone clipped with annoyance. “I’ve given you far more chances than you deserve.”