How the hell are we going to “handle” this? She killed a Silver Block soldier.
Pulling back, I cup her cheeks and wipe her tears with my thumbs. “Tana. I need you to listen to me right now, keen?”
She’s not blinking again. She looks dazed.
“You didn’t kill him.”
“What?” Confusion etches into her face.
“You didn’t kill him.Ikilled him. I walked in and found him on top of you. And I killed him. Okay?”
Her shiver fits return. “Wren, no. You’ll get sent to the Tribunal.”
“Not if I claim I was defending myself.” I go to the closet, searching for something she can wear. I find a man’s cardigan sweater and hand it to her. “Here. Put this on. You’re shaking.”
I don’t know how I’m managing to keep my composure.
She dropped the gun on the floor after she shot Anson, and I bend down to pick it up. I walk around the bed toward Anson’s right side. He was right-handed, I remember. I wrap his fingers around the weapon and curl his finger over the trigger. He died recently, so his fingers aren’t stiff yet. I’m easily able to maneuver them.
I straighten up and unholster my own weapon. I don’t have a silencer on it, and I pray that nobody hears what I’m about to do. If they do, we’ll have to act even faster.
“Move over here.” With a gentle touch, I nudge Tana toward the armchair in the corner. “Stay there for a second.”
She gives a fearful look as she watches me raise my gun.
“What are you doing?”
“Setting the scene,” I say, then fire one shot at the door.
The story unfolds in my head.
I left the station to check on Tana. I couldn’t bear the idea of her being detained.
I walked into the room and found Anson assaulting his prisoner.
When he saw me, he fired. Thankfully, he missed and the bullet struck the door.
I fired back. Kill shot. I take self-defense very seriously.
Anyone who looks too hard at this scene will note that the blood spatter won’t match my story, but the only good thing about the General’s system of justice is that no one will dig too deeply into it. Suspected criminals aren’t given the benefit of the doubt, and there’s no time or resources for lengthy, drawn-out investigations.
All I need is for Cross to take my word for what happened.
As if on cue, his furious voice suddenly rumbles in my earpiece.
“Where the hell are you, Dove?”
I glance over at Tana. “Are you going to be able to follow my lead?”
Despite her tears and the wild shuddering of her body, she responds with a nod.
“Good.” I tap my earpiece. “I’m at the inn. There was an incident.”
“What incident?” Cross demands.
“I killed Anson.”
—