Page 114 of The Puppet Master
Standing straight, Thorne scratches his wrist where his bracelet once was.
“Is now really the time for jealousy, Thorne?”
Loud, angry feet trample into the room, and I don’t need to look his way to know they belong to Father.
“Why thehelldid I send every drone after that man?” A wrinkled hand whips me around, my body jostling as if I couldn’t snap his wrist in half if I wanted. Thorne stews behind me, but he’d never interfere. “You said he would lead us to the traitor.”
Yes.
That’s exactly what should’ve happened.
“I found a way out, but it only works for me…”
He told me he was using the help of someone. I thought for certain Zephyr and he would be together, not just at the exit but at the mines.
What exactly does she think is going to happen? Does she think he’s going to steal from us then return? That he’ll take her with him?
Or was she just trying to hurt me?
I pull from Father’s arm and cup my hands in front of me, my chin high, my face a mask of calm in the storm that’s erupting in this room. My oldest sister, Raven, joins us, her expression also angry.
Funny that their anger is directed toward me as opposed to Sawyer.
“He saw the mines, Father. I believed he’d run, but obviously, he got spooked. It’s fine. We’ll put the drones on him, and he’ll show us his escape route by nightfall.”
“The traitor could be long gone by now,” Father sneers.
I don’t say anything. The bracelet around Sawyer’s wrist is firmly in my mind, a taunt she knew I’d see. That shewantedme to see. As if daring me to prove that I’m as strong as people claim, or rather, to prove that I’m not. That I’m too pathetic, too cowardly to expose my own sister. My own twin.
She’s right. I won’t.
Not with my voice.
“Sawyer Hansley is a manipulator. Whoever he’s using might not realize he’s going to escape for good.”
“Then they’redense,” Raven spits. I just look at her. She may be the oldest, but she isn’t wise. She’s been around Zephyr often enough to be accountable for not seeing the signs.
“May I speak the obvious?” Thorne asks.
We all turn to him and wait. It’s rare he inserts his opinion.
“Why don’t we just extract the information from him?”
There’s a pause, though no one processes the thought. Every person in this room has considered that many times—including me. Especially me.
Yet, it’s defensiveness I feel hearing it aloud. Not alignment.
Thorne shows his huge palms and goes on, eyes on me as he speaks. “I mean, you’re finished, right? He proved we couldn’t trust him. He showed you how he does things. The act is up? We don’t need to keep feeding him three meals a day while pretending we don’t notice him sneaking around?”
Silence.
Raven shuffles. “He has a point.”
I shoot her a glare. “No.”
“It’d take me five minutes,” Thorne says. “Probably less.”
“We’renottorturing him.”
