Night In A Waste Land (Hell Theory #2) - Lauren Gilley Page 0,37

wrist, squeezing tight.

“No, ma’am,” Gallo said. “But if this can work, then I want to try.”

“We’ve seen how powerful conduits are,” Lance said. And rushed to add, “They’ve blown shit up and tried to kill us, yes. But. Maybe they – maybe she can do more with her power.”

Bedlam surveyed each of them in turn, and then flopped back in her chair with a defeated sigh. “I guess I’m outnumbered, then.”

Out in the hall, once the door was shut, Rose turned to Gallo. “Are you sure, Frankie?” She couldn’t help but notice Trist standing behind him, nearly hovering, his gaze concerned. Sweet Frankie, it only took losing an arm, didn’t it? she thought.

“I’m sure,” Gallo said, with a nod. She saw a tremble in his throat that was nerves, but his face was all bravery. He lifted what remained of his left arm, the sleeve of his jacket pinned up neatly. “I want to get back to real action, and really be useful on ops.”

Over his shoulder, Tris’s mouth twitched.

Rose said, “I’ll go and set it all up with Morgan. Do you know when the doctors will be ready?”

“This afternoon, I think.”

“Good. Text me with an exact time.”

When he turned away, Tris fell into step beside him; they didn’t touch, but Rose could see the pressure of the wanting to.

Rose turned, too–

And Lance blocked her path. After the night in the locker room, his kindness, yet another glimpse at his true caring, she couldn’t bring herself to snap at him. It felt like weakness when she simply said, “What?” her tone soft as ever.

He was as surprised as her, if his lifted brows were anything to go by. He lowered his voice, and leaned in close – too close, but she didn’t want to shrink away. “Are you sure about this?”

“You heard him. He wants to try, and I think it’s a good idea.”

“Do you really?” The tilt of his head sent a warning skittering across her skin, one she bulled past and ignored.

“Do you think I’m lying?”

“I think you hate conduits more than any of us,” he countered, smoothly.

She started to protest.

And he said, “But I also know you care about Gallo, and I don’t think you’d let him get hurt on purpose.”

She took a measured breath. “It’s nice to know you don’t think I’m a traitor to my own team.”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you just did.”

He blinked first, during the stare-down that ensued. His lashes flickered, and his gaze dropped; it didn’t strike her as a submission, exactly, but more like a refusal to challenge her any further. “I’ll talk Bedlam into being more on board. You and Gallo can talk to – Morgan” – everyone still tripped on her name; the idea of a conduit being a person, in that way – “and set things up on her end.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Rose jerked a nod and spun away.

She didn’t mean to look back; didn’t want to, and had no reason to. But something pricked at her, when she reached the bend in the hall. Another tingle across her skin, like a warning, like moments ago.

Her steps faltered, and she pressed a hand to the wall, and she glanced back over her shoulder.

She’d expected Lance to be scrubbing at his hair the way he did when he was frustrated, staring off into the middle distance, his jaw tight.

His jaw was tight, but he was staring at her. Hands balled into fists at his sides, body tense all over, muscles pulling his jacket taut in the arms and chest.

She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help but read his expression. She’d seen it directed at her before – though Beck had hidden it so much more cleverly, at least at first; when he’d let it bleed through, it had been tinged with a predatory, animal intensity. Lance’s hunger, by contrast, was edged with a sharp sadness, desperation evident in every tense line of his body, in the way his throat jumped as he swallowed.

Rose whipped back around, and kept walking, heart knocking wildly at her ribs.

~*~

Three junior Knights bearing guns, stun batons, and with Wraith Grenades dangling like clusters of grapes from their belts, stood behind Morgan, all stricken and nervous; Rose swore she could smell their fear sweat. It was ridiculous overkill, but on order of Captain Bedlam. “The first time a conduit gets invited to walk down these hallways, do you think I’m gonna let her have free reign?” she’d asked with a condescending snort. Morgan wore heavy,