Scarlet (The Lunar Chronicles #2) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,76

dealing with and I’ll figure something out, but I can’t let you go with me.”

He stared down at her for a long moment and she tried to see softness in his stark green eyes, but the warmth and desperation that had been so apparent on the train were now replaced with a cold resolve. He pried his arm away.

“Do you see the man sitting in front of the closed café on the other side of the street?”

She slid her attention off him and found the man sitting at one of the outdoor tables. One ankle was propped on his knee, his elbow dangling off the back of his chair. He was staring at them, and he didn’t try to hide it. When Scarlet caught his eye, he winked.

A chill crawled over her skin.

“Pack member,” said Wolf. “We passed another at the magrail station two blocks back. And…” He craned his head. “If the stench is any indication, we’re about to cross paths with another when we turn this next corner.”

Her heart was suddenly stomping. “How did they know we were here?”

“I suspect they’ve been waiting for us. They’ve probably been tracking your ID.”

That’s what people did when they ran away and didn’t want to be found—they cut out their ID chips.

“Or yours,” she murmured. “If they do have access to an ID tracker, then maybe they’ve been following you.”

“Maybe.” His voice was nonchalant and she realized this wasn’t news to him. Had he thought this could be possible? Was that how Ran had found them?

“We might as well go find out what they want.” Wolf turned away and she had to race to keep up with him.

“But there’s only three of them. You can fight three of them, can’t you? You said you could take—” She hesitated. Wolf had told her he would win in a fight against six wolves. When had those wild animals become synonymous with these men, this Order of the Pack?

“You could still get away. There’s still a chance,” she finished.

“I said I would protect you and that’s what I’m going to do. It’s pointless to discuss this any further.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Yes,” he said, the word biting over the synthesized noise of a music video on a nearby billboard. “Yes, you do.”

Scarlet darted in front of him, planting her feet. He stopped just shy of plowing into her.

“No,” she said. “What I need is to know that I’m not responsible for whatever they’ll do to you. You need to stop being stupid and get out of here. At least give yourself a chance!”

He peered over her head at some place in the distance. Scarlet tensed, wondering if he’d picked up on the presence of a fourth pack member, or even more. Gulping, she glanced at the man by the café, who was stroking his ear and watching them with obvious amusement.

“What’s stupid is not that I’m going to try and protect you,” Wolf said, pulling his focus back down to her. “What’s stupid is that I almost believe it will make a difference.”

He stepped around her, shrugging off the hand that reached out to stop him. Her thoughts teetered, knowing she had a choice. She could run away with him, leave the city, and never come back. She could choose not to go in search of her grandmother after all, and maybe save his life.

But it was not really a choice. She barely knew him. Despite the ache in her heart, despite everything. She would never be able to live with herself knowing that she’d abandoned her grandmother when she was this close.

She turned back only once, as they were rounding a corner, and saw that the man by the café was gone.

A block later, the memory of the Fourth World War caught up to them all at once. The scorch marks and crumbling facades of a city pummeled by war. There weren’t enough of the beautiful old buildings left to draw the interest of the conservationists, and the sheer amount of destruction must have been too overwhelming for reconstruction. Unable to demolish the city’s history, the government had left this quarter alone. The districts, though separated by only a few streets, seemed worlds apart.

With a gasp, Scarlet recognized the massive building stretching along the opposite side of the street, with its shattered arched windows and the statues of men in old-fashioned clothing, many with broken limbs and some alcoves missing their statues altogether. The Musée du Louvre, one of the few sights her