Scarlet (The Lunar Chronicles #2) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,34

not going to hire you.” Grabbing the mug of cold and forgotten coffee, Scarlet finally sat down opposite Wolf. The knife lingered on the cutting board, just beyond her fingers. She waited until he was licking the last of the tomato’s juices from his fingers.

“So. What’s the story with the tattoo?”

Wolf glanced down at his forearm. The kitchen light was making his eyes sparkle like gems, but this time they weren’t making Scarlet flustered. All she cared about now were the answers those eyes were hiding.

He extended his arm across the table so that the tattoo was fully in the light and pulled the skin taut, like he was seeing it for the first time. LSOP962.

“Loyal Soldier to the Order of the Pack,” he said. “Member 962.” He released the skin and curled his shoulders, hunkering down in the chair. “The biggest mistake I have ever made.”

Scarlet’s skin tingled. “And what exactly is the Order of the Pack?”

“A gang, more commonly referred to as the Wolves. They like to call themselves vigilantes and rebels and harbingers of change, but … they’re not much better than criminals, really. If I can ever afford it, I’ll have this awful thing removed.”

A gust of wind rattled the oak tree outside the front door and a flurry of leaves swished against the window.

“So you’re not a part of it anymore?”

He shook his head.

Scarlet glared across the table, unable to read him. Unable to decipher if he was telling the truth. “The Wolves,” she murmured, letting the name sink into her brain. “And do they do this often? Take innocent people out of their homes for absolutely no reason?”

“They have a reason.”

Scarlet pulled the drawstring of her hood until it was almost strangling her, before tugging the material back out again. “Why? What would they want with my grandmother?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t tell me that. Is it ransom money? What?”

His fingers flexed in and out on the table. “She was in the military,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway. “In those pictures, she was in uniform.”

“She was a pilot for the EF, but that was years ago. Before I was born.”

“Then maybe she knows something. Or they think she does.”

“About what?”

“Military secrets? Top-secret weaponry?”

Scarlet scooted forward until her stomach pressed against the table’s edge. “I thought you said they were common criminals. What do they care about that?”

Wolf sighed. “Criminals who think of themselves as…”

“Harbingers of change.” Scarlet gnawed on her lip. “Right. So, what? Are they trying to take down the government or something? Start a war?”

Wolf glanced out the window as the lights of a small passenger ship skirted along the edge of the field—the first workers arriving for their shift. “I don’t know.”

“No, you do know. You’re one of them!”

Wolf smiled, humorlessly. “I was nothing to them, hardly more than an errand boy. I wasn’t let in on any executive plans.”

Scarlet folded her arms. “Then take an educated guess.”

“I know they stole a lot of weapons. They want people to be afraid of them.” He shook his head. “Maybe they want to get their hands on military weaponry.”

“My grandma wouldn’t know anything about that. And even if she did before, when she was a pilot, she wouldn’t know now.”

Wolf opened his palms wide to her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else it could be. Unless you can think of something she may have been involved with.”

“No, I’ve been racking my brain since she disappeared, but there’s nothing. She was just—she’s my grandma.” She gestured out toward the fields. “She owns a farm. She speaks her mind and she doesn’t like being told what to think, but she doesn’t have any enemies, not that I know of. Sure, people in town think she’s a little eccentric, but there’s no one who doesn’t like her. And she’s just an old woman.” She clasped both hands around the coffee mug and sighed. “You must know how to find them, at least?”

“Find them? No—it would be suicide.”

She tensed. “It’s not for you to decide.”

Wolf scratched behind his neck. “How long ago did they take her?”

“Eighteen days.” Hysteria worked its way up her throat. “They’ve had her for eighteen days.”

His attention was plastered to the table, troubled lines drawn into his brow. “It’s too dangerous.”

The chair slammed against the floor as Scarlet bolted up. “I asked for information, not a lecture. I don’t care how dangerous they are—that’s just one more reason I need to find them! Do you know what they could be doing to her