Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,21

trying to distract them from Lark. She was hidden until she decided to climb the hill.” My heart races inexplicably, as if afraid. I fold myself into Beck’s side. This is my brother and sister-in-law—I know we haven’t always gotten along, but what’s there to be frightened of?

Annalise’s lips form a hard frown. But it’s the movement of her hands I find strange—they appear to quiver. “You have no training in Sensitive enforcement and your first thought wasn’t to stay hidden. It was stand on a hill and show yourself. I find that very interesting.”

Her deep blue eyes dart back and forth between Beck and I as if waiting for an attack. Beck wraps his other arm around me, so he’s more or less hugging me now. Annalise clenches her teeth briefly before disguising it with a bright smile.

Are you looking for me? Isn’t that what he said when he faced them? My mind whirls, sorting through what I saw, heard and know. Something isn’t right.

“My first, my only thought, is always to protect Lark.”

Protect me? What is he talking about? He needs protecting as much as I do. Like Callum, we’re all direct descendants of Founders—and under constant threat.

Without any attempt at subtlety, Beck moves his body so that I’m now standing behind him.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I jockey to get around him, but he holds me back. I’ve never doubted Beck before, but this is ridiculous.

In response, Annalise throws her head back like those girls in the movies and lets out a melodic laugh. It’s eerily out of place with the tone of our conversation. “Protect Lark? That’s what you call what you did? You lead them right to her.”

I don’t understand what’s happening. Is she accusing Beck of something? Of helping Sensitives attack me?

I peer around Beck, suddenly feeling small. Callum fidgets with his wrap, clearly agitated, but it’s Annalise who looks furious. Lethal even.

Anger boils inside me.

“Annalise, what exactly are you trying to say?” I clip my words and step around Beck.

Shock flits across her face. “I’m sorry, Lark. Have I offended you? I’d think you, of all people, would want to get to the bottom of this. Especially since it appears they were looking for you.”

“No, of course not.” It’s a lie, but I don’t want her, or whomever she reports to, to think I’m argumentative.

Looking for me? Beck had asked. I shake my head and ball my fists into my thighs. No. They wanted me. The daughter of Malin Greene—the Sensitive hunter—the one responsible for increased labor groups and a crack-down on their freedoms. And Beck offered himself instead.

Annalise slips the screen back into her satchel with a swift movement. “I have everything I need.”

Callum offers his arm to his wife. “Annalise, shall we?”

She removes her coat from its hook and places her hand lightly on his arm. Her hard eyes drill into me, but she smiles sweetly. “Goodbye, Lark. We’ll see you again soon, I’m sure of it.”

Callum tips his hat before placing it back on his head and then they’re gone, gliding out into the hallway, leaving behind a mess of confusion and suspicion. Do Annalise and Callum think Beck wanted the Sensitives to find me? That’s impossible.

I spin on Beck. “What was that?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he stares out into the hallway, head tilted toward the spot where Callum and Annalise disappeared.

“Beck,” I huff. “Are you listening to me?”

Fear flashes through his olive eyes. He searches my face for a moment as if trying to register what I said.

“C’mon, Birdie. We have assessments to take.” He bends down, picks up my bag and hands it to me.

“The Headmaster hasn’t excused us. We can’t go yet.”

“I don’t think it matters anymore.”

5

Unlike a few minutes ago, when he couldn’t stop hugging me, Beck leaves me behind as he hurries to class.

I sprint to catch up to him. I don’t know what exactly just happened, but I think he does. And he’s going to give me some answers, even if I have to force it out of him.

I beat him to our classroom door and block him from entering.

“What’s going on?” I demand.

For the first time, I notice how he shakes. I lace my fingers through his and, out of habit, kiss our enjoined hands. Maybe that’s why he held on to me so tightly? Because his hands give away how frightened he is?

“Beck, you don’t really think Annalise was accusing you of leading the Sensitives to us, do you?”

He shrugs.