The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

going. It rang and kept ringing, and cold fingers walked down my spine.

For me?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I dove for the phone in the dark. Something sharp got in my way, a prick to my palm and glass smashed at my feet. Pencils rolled and scattered, the tak of wood on tile. I kicked at the mess, groped out blindly, and the receiver tumbled off the hook. I caught the cord and reeled it in, scrambled it to my ear and stood tongue-tied, panting down the line.

“The traditional phone greeting is ‘Hello?’”

I made a sound, a breathless heh. I knew that voice, that Lofty drone. Not Prium, but—

“What are you doing here? Get out.”

I found my voice at last. “Reyland? How—”

“I get an alert when a retinal scan fails. Or my department does. You’re lucky I’m on tonight. Lucky I’m the one who caught you.”

“How are you watching me? There’s no cameras, no—”

“Cameras?” He laughed, hollow with distance. “Not in the halls, but you’re in HR. There’s one in every office. All I had to do was—oh, what does it matter? I’ve shorted the stairwell cams. You’ve got five minutes to scram, and then—”

My grip tightened on the receiver. “No.”

“No?” Reyland’s voice rose. “If you don’t get out now—”

“Not without Ona. Where are they keeping her?”

“Ona? I don’t—”

“Where is she?” I brought my fist down on the table. Something clattered to the floor, something light and plasticky. I kicked it aside. “I’m not leaving without her. You want me out, you tell me where to find her.”

Reyland blew down the line, a crackling rush of static.

“Well?”

He clicked his tongue. “Right now, she’s on the roof. But you can’t—”

“Watch me.” I slammed the phone down. This time, it stayed quiet. I cocked my head, searching, and found the camera light. The lens swung my way, and I shrugged at it.

“Sorry,” I said. “I won’t rat if they catch me.”

The camera did a headshake, a slow side-to-side scan. I turned my back on it and set out for the roof. But Reyland’s call had left me rattled, nerves fizzing under my skin. I jumped at the scrape of a chair, gasped at the gurgling of water. Somebody laughed, and I broke into a trot. A light sputtered overhead, and my trot became a sprint. I bolted straight for the fire door, and headlong up the stairs, past a pair of dead cameras, until I smelled fresh air.

I burst onto the roof garden, and Ona was there, standing alone with her back to the moon. A willow hung over her, casting her face half in shadow. She took half a step forward, one hand to her chest.

“You came back.”

“Of course I did.” The door slammed behind me. Ona flinched.

“Why now?” Her eyes went hard, like on the broadcast. “You left me at the ball.”

“I did not.” I ventured closer. My throat felt thick, choked with questions. Ona wasn’t in chains, wasn’t guarded at all. I searched her for signs of harm—a torn cuff, a broken nail—but she was Peepr-perfect, not a hair out of place. “We tried to come back for you,” I said. “We’d never have left you, but the guards ran us off. We had to—”

“Swim through the outflow. I know. I saw.” Her eyes glistened in the moonlight. “I didn’t know that was down there,” she said. “I saw you go under. I saw the bolts hit the water. I thought you were dead, and you let me believe that. You left me. You had this whole plan, and you couldn’t even warn me.”

“That wasn’t our plan.” I swallowed past something sharp, something wounded and raw. “We were never going to leave you. But, Ona, that speech. Did you—”

“You never even said goodbye.”

“I came back for you twice. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ona blinked, and her eyes went dull. “Did you, though? If I went with you now, if I helped you escape, would that be the end of it?”

“What are you talking about?”

She made a sound, not quite laughter. “Your other shoe.”

“My... what?” I glanced down, perplexed. Ona advanced on me, cold as the night.

“It’s an old saying,” she said. “Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Lady Lazrad told me. It means shoes come in pairs, so if someone hands you just one, you know they’re holding back.” She dropped her hand on my shoulder and squeezed till my arm went numb. “Why are you really here?”

“For you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then I’ll say it again till you do.” I shouldered into her space, so close I could’ve kissed her. I shook her instead, hooked my thumb under her chin and forced her to look at me. “I’m here for you,” I said.

Ona’s eyes locked on mine, burning with resentment. “You’re here for me. Just for me. You came back just for me?”

I clenched my teeth, feeling sick. I couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d only despise me for it—not for my crime, but for making her an afterthought.

“I’ll always come back for you,” I said. “Tell me no, if you want. Send me packing. But I’ll keep coming back, as many times as it takes. I’ll always be—”

“Say you’re here just for me.” Ona’s gaze bored straight through me. “You can’t say it, can you? Because—”

I bared my teeth, furious, and spat the lie in her face. “I’m here for you. Nothing else.”

“You’re lying.” She spun out, voice cracking, and caught herself on the railing. “You always lie. I used to think I was different—that you’d be honest with me. But you’re lying. You’re lying. Get out, and don’t come back.”

I stood where I was, wracked with anger and guilt. I’d lied, it was true, but she’d betrayed me first. She’d turned the whole Dirt against me, and she’d done it willingly. That much was clear now, but I needed to hear it from her lips. I needed to see her say it—if she cast her eyes down, if she met mine with defiance. I licked my lips, dry-mouthed.

“What you