Soulless The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,72

on his face. I heard a scream from the back seat, and I could see the other agent pull his gun, aiming it at me, too scared to shoot through his partner. I pulled the pistol out of the holster of the agent I had in my grip and shot the other in the chest, twice, aiming for the kevlar vest I knew he was wearing.

He slammed against the door behind him with each shot, and I let the first agent drop. The door to the backseat of the SUV opened and a blond girl stepped out, flushed and angry. She was tall, willowy, pretty in that annoying kind of way a cheerleader is. I rolled my eyes when I saw her, and she put up her hands, as though she was ready to fight. I grabbed her fist when she threw her first punch, and held onto it until her expression changed.

It was kind of funny to watch. She grunted and strained, and even with my shoulder oozing blood, I still managed to keep a grip on her until her eyes rolled back in her head. I felt good after, which was normal, but when I moved my shoulder, I realized it didn’t even hurt. “Persephone,” I whispered as she dropped to the ground.

I went to the passenger side and pulled out the agent I’d shot. He was still breathing, so I touched his face, draining him until I was sure he wouldn’t remember anything. “Sorry,” I said to his unconscious body, “but it’s best you don’t remember running into me.” That done, I pulled the blonde girl into the passenger seat and slid into the driver’s seat myself. I started the car and let it run for a second before I put it in gear and pulled back onto the main road.

When I went to make the turn to the right that would take me back to town and eventually an interstate, my eyes caught on the Persephone. I didn’t owe her an explanation, not really, especially since she was unconscious, and it was pretty unlikely she would remember. Still, I looked at her, and she reminded me a little of Sienna, mostly in the age, and I told her anyway.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I need you.” My eyes traced the lines of her face, the slack, relaxed musculature that reminded me of a little girl who used to be so innocent...but most of that was gone when I’d left her behind just minutes earlier. I wondered when it had gone away, and who had done it. I felt a flash of anger, and knew who to blame. “He doesn’t give a damn about human agents, you know, but I bet he’ll care about you. That’s how he always was. Metas first.” I shook my head. “Not that you care, but that’s it. That’s why I took you with me. You’re my insurance, for when we collide...because it’s coming soon. I can feel it. Real soon, and after all, I’m just one girl, alone against the whole Directorate. So I’m gonna need some help, and that’s you, blondie. You’re it. My fulcrum.

“You’re my leverage for Erich Winter.”

A Note to the Reader

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I wanted to take a moment to thank you for reading this story. As an independent author, getting my name out to build an audience is one of the biggest priorities on any given day. If you enjoyed this story and are looking forward to reading more, let someone know – post it on Amazon, on your blog, if you have one, on Goodreads.com, place it in a quick Facebook status or Tweet with a link to the page of whatever outlet you purchased it from (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo, etc). Good reviews inspire people to take a chance on a new author – like me. And we new authors can use all the help we can get.

Thanks again for your time.

Robert J. Crane

Acknowledgments

Third time around, and thrice charmed I have been as an author of this particular series. There are again thanks aplenty to be doled out, and here are the responsible parties:

Heather Rodefer, my inestimable Editor-in-Chief (she keeps