Page 49

I don’t honestly care that much about my father’s organization. I have to serve him, serve his lieutenants, so I do it well and keep my place in the hierarchy. But frankly it seems just as corrupt as the PS and that corporation that runs Canada.

“Vale.” Ami lifts her head, and her deep blue eyes meet mine. I like the way she says my name, the A high and wide before she slips into the L. It’s how my father says it. He grew up in Baltimore too, but I like it better from her. She takes my hand in hers and my breathing stops. “The Forge may not be perfect, I’m not saying it is, but you train people to defend themselves, right?”

I nod. It’s true, that’s a big part of what we do for those soft men we sneak out of the PS, if only so they can join us and fight for the Forge.

“I need that, Vale.”

“It’s not nice there, Ami, it’s not safe for you.” I don’t know if I can keep her safe.

That innocent shrug again. “It’s not safe anywhere, right? I might as well learn something besides paint colors and random words in Dena’ina.”

She waits, patiently, letting her argument sit. Her eyes are a rich blue. I lean down to get a better look at them, only to find my focus straying to her lips, which fall open a fraction.

I want to kiss her. Before I can act on it, I do something else, anything else. I do the thing that might change this dynamic and get me out of the frustrating dance we’re stuck in.

“Fine. Come with me.”

A shadow of something—disappointment maybe—flashes over her face, before she does that thing where she sets her shoulders and lifts her chin.

Her hands fidget slightly now, pulling the zipper on her jacket and tugging on the two full halves of her ponytail, tightening it into place.

I take her hand and bring her with me, out of the alley and up toward the West High School complex.

We walk up Spenard Road, and when we turn onto Hillcrest I stop moving. I take the baseball cap off my head and hand it to her.

“Put this on, pull it down,” I tell her and she nods, her eyes wide. She loops her ponytail through the back of the hat and pulls the rim low over her eyes. She takes a deep breath, a small smirk on her face.

“What?”

“It smells like you,” she says.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

She gives a slight shake of her head. “No, it’s nice.”

Okay. I scan her up and down one more time before we turn the bend and approach the guard station at the bridge.

“Do you have a weapon on you?” I ask. Ami nods.

“They’ll find it. I can keep it in my backpack—they won’t search me.”

I say it more fiercely than I meant to. Her look is teasing. She caught that little outburst of overprotection. She pulls her jacket up, revealing a strip of smooth, tan skin and a sheath hooked onto the waistband. Ami carefully unhooks the knife and hands it to me, then bends down to pull a switchblade out of her boot.

A chuckle escapes me. “Deadly, aren’t you?”

I tuck the knives into my bag and take a breath.

“I need you to give off your best don’t-mess-with-me vibe, okay? Let me see it.”

She tries to lift her chin and starts to giggle. She manages a straight face for a second before her shoulders shake. I throw up my hands in exasperation.

“That’s not it, Pepper.” There’s something infectious about the sound of her laugh and I’m starting to chuckle, too. Without thinking I pull a tough guy face at her and she doubles over, laughing breathlessly.

“I’m Vale, get out of my way,” she grunts, pulling the corners of her mouth down in a pout.

“I don’t sound like that!” I complain, scandalized.

I pretend to tighten an imaginary ponytail. “I’m Ami, and I’m not afraid of anything.”