Namely, a bullet.
I threw open the door to the stairwell and marched up the stairs. I could already hear hushed whispers filtering down the stairwells. Someone was standing with the door wide open, waiting for me.
I wasn’t sure that she had any idea where I had been, but if she had, I prayed that Tim hurried before someone caught him and Ms. Dale. I took a deep breath and forced my face to relax. I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders, then continued up the stairs.
Stepping through the doorframe, I nodded at the Liberator who was holding it open. I vaguely remembered her—I thought her name was Phyllis, or maybe Phoebe—and I was a little surprised when she nodded back. So was she, given the flush of pink across her high cheekbones, and the speed at which she pulled the door closed behind me, avoiding eye contact.
Her reaction reminded me that not everyone in the room was bad. They were just being misled by a very disturbed individual.
The same disturbed individual who was standing in the middle of the largest patch of sand with a man kneeling in front of her.
I marched through the crowd, who regarded me with curiosity, disdain, and some outright hatred. The last came from Meera, who shouted something incoherent at me before shoving me hard. I was surprised by her vehemence, until I remembered Solomon. Things had been strained, but she had tried. I guessed that was over now.
Her shove caused me to lose balance and I fell to the ground on my hands and knees. A few people cheered, but the rest remained silent, waiting for the scene to unfold before them. Given how Desmond had gotten everyone down here—likely by sending them messages through their handhelds—it would prove to be theatrical.
I drew in a lungful of air and glanced over to where Meera was standing when a flash of movement caught my eye. I lifted my gaze and saw Nissa standing practically on top of me, her face marred by a frown, which intensified as our eyes met. She took a step back, and I felt hope crumble in my chest.
Convincing these people that I wasn’t their enemy was going to be impossible. Desmond had spent years with them—she knew them better than they knew themselves, it seemed. She had molded them all into believing in her, creating a sense of devotion that would be impossible to overcome in these circumstances.
Her plan wasn’t a secret: They had come to terms with it already. And who could blame them? They were the outcasts of societies that had wronged them, and Desmond represented a very real way of dealing a blow to the institutions. They didn’t care about the people they hurt in the process: All they cared about was revenge.
I also highly doubted that they would believe me about Desmond drugging the boys. If I mentioned it, it would seem like a desperate claim, trying to taint the reputation of someone they loved.
I stood up and continued walking, doing my best to ignore the snide comments and yells. The sand crunched under my feet as I marched through it and stopped about thirty feet from Desmond.
“Let him go,” I said, my voice ringing out loudly, and, thankfully, calmly.
Turning her back to me, Desmond held the microphone to her lips. “You see,” she cried. “Why else would she come, if she weren’t a spy?”
The crowd murmured in agreement, and I felt my brows draw up in confusion. “What are you talking about?” I asked, taking a step forward and looking at the audience. “I came up here because you were threatening my boyfriend!”
I felt Viggo’s eyes on me, but I kept my focus on Desmond and the crowd. Desmond was trying to convince them that I was working against them, but I wasn’t about to make it that easy.
Desmond turned back to me, shaking her head sadly. “We trusted this girl—we trusted her with our deepest secrets, never knowing that she was really working for Matrus. And her boyfriend here for Patrus.”
She planted a foot on Viggo’s shoulders and gave him a little shove, sending him tumbling to the ground. He sat up quickly, shaking the sand off his face. I held my ground, staring at her. “Seriously? This is the best you can come up with? That I work for Matrus and him Patrus? There are so many problems with that I don’t even know where to start!”
“Enough, Ms. Bates. We are tired of your… deceptions. I have suspected you for some time, ever since that… special meeting you wanted to schedule with me out of the blue… mere days before seeing our plan finally come to fruition. You see… when I started this operation, I knew that both countries would eventually figure out that something was up and send agents to investigate. I don’t know how, but you must have been tipped off that Lee was working with someone else. You probably didn’t know who then, but you and your partner here—as unprecedented as it seems—started working together once you realized how effective we could… would… become.