The pleasure vanished from her sister's face, all that light snuffed out by her words. "So soon? I thought we could spend time together."
"I can't." The truth, for what it was worth. "We're leaving tonight after Dallas's meetings."
"A pity," Gordon murmured, and he sounded earnest. Maybe he was, if only out of concern for Avery. He bent to kiss her brow. "I'll leave you two to the time you have, pet." Straightening, he nodded to Lex. "Alexa."
The way he said her given name straightened her spine. "Gordy."
His lips twisted in disapproval as he turned away, but Avery didn't notice. She watched, tense with concern, as his uneven strides took him back to the house. "His knee bothers him when he's tired," she whispered once he'd disappeared through the door. "He was only a boy when the lights went out, but he was injured in the riots."
You could leave. Come with me. Lex bit her tongue. Avery would no sooner leave Sector Two than she herself would stay.
"Take care," she whispered instead. "And remember your training. What to do if he hurts you."
Avery blinked and turned to meet Lex's eyes. "He won't," she replied just as quietly. "He's not a perfect man. But I've seen my house sisters go to men who work them or hurt them, who call them whores and break their souls. Gordon wants a pretty girl in his bed and someone to dote upon. How selfish would I be to ask for more in a world where so many have nothing at all?"
"Maybe more isn't selfish at all. Maybe it's what you deserve."
"Deserve?" After an uncertain moment, she looked away. "I don't like to imagine a world where we all get what we deserve. I think my heart would break to imagine most people deserve what they have gotten."
She had it backwards, had twisted the words into something damning. Lex released a slow breath--a goodbye. She and Avery shared more than blood. Once, they'd shared the same origin and ultimate fate, even the same values.
But exile had changed Lex in ways she couldn't articulate. Here, in some of the poshest surroundings Sector Two had to offer, Avery heard words of hope as condemnation. Back home, in grungy, dirty Sector Four, the same observation would have been met with indignation. Fight.
She missed that fire already.
"I have to go." She clasped her sister's hand for a moment and rose. "Be happy, Avery."
"I will, if you promise the same."
Mad was staring through the glass, agitated and intent. "I promise," Lex whispered.
Avery smiled and let her go.
Mad all but dragged Lex through the house, past the relieved servant and out onto the cobblestone sidewalk. His arm slid around her waist as soon as they were around the corner. "You okay, honey?"
Honest concern demanded an honest answer. "No. Let's get the fuck out of here."
Chapter Eleven
"It's not my secret to share," Gideon said for the third time, leaving Dallas to wonder if punching the grandson of God's supposed prophet was blasphemous enough to endanger his already questionable place in the afterlife. After all the effort it had taken to convince Bren to lag behind while he walked with Gideon, this was the only answer the damn man would give when it came to Lex, over and over like some broken pre-Flare toy.
It's not my secret to share.
God damn the bastard, anyway. Him and his meddling and his morals. "Fine, let's talk about some secrets that are yours to share. Like what you're hoping to get out of Three."
"Who says I want anything?" The man's wide grin belied the innocence of the deflection.
Dallas didn't hide his snort of amusement. "Yeah. Try that on someone who doesn't know you."
Gideon sobered. "I want my Warriors to have full access to Sector Three."
Christ, the man didn't ask for much, did he? Just motorcycle-riding vigilantes for God rolling through a sector that might as well be hell on earth. "You want them there as helpers or hunters? Because if I'm running Three, my men need to be the law. End of story."
"Hey." Gideon held up both hands. "Feed the hungry and heal the sick. Everything else is your show."
There were benefits to letting Gideon's men in, coldly practical ones. Hungry people were desperate, dangerous, but charity and compassion had a tendency to erode the fearful respect Dallas depended on outside of his gang. He didn't want to leave kids hungry and their parents suffering, but he couldn't save them all. And the slightest show of weakness could