Page 99 of Even Robots Die
Their matching expressions are replaced at almost the same time by a blank mask of boredom, and I have to wonder if they match in more ways than this.
They would look lovely as a couple.
At least she doesn’t look like she could be his daughter.
Is that jealousy? Or pettiness? Or maybe a bit of both?
I have no reason to think that they could be a couple and even fewer reasons to feel jealous about it, but my mind doesn’t give a shit.
“Do you have something that could work against it?” Christina asks, and I tuck the awful feeling at the very back of my mind.
I’m not about to ruin years of collaboration over something that isn't even there. It’s just my mind making up scenarios. I should not pay attention to them. We have more pressing problems.
Like finding my dad and saving humanity, no less.
Yeah, I know, but as they say, shoot for the moon and maybe you’ll end up amongst the stars.
One can dream.
Well, I dream. I dream of a better place. I dream of my city, country to be safe again for everyone, shifters and humans alike. I dream of a world that isn’t blinded by bigotry anymore.
I dream of a place I can call home and be proud.
But dreams are only the fuel for what needs to be done, and I can’t forget that before my dreams can come true, we’ll have to go through hell.
Before dreams come true, one has to walk through their own nightmares.
“I’ve been working on something. It’s not finished yet, but as soon as I’m done I’ll send the blueprints,” I tell Christina, and I can see from the corner of my eye that Brice has questions, but luckily he keeps them to himself for now.
The only answer Christina gives me is another question.
“Timeframe?”
I know what she means and do the math in my head. I could finalize everything in five days. But once we’re back, I have a brain to repair. It might only be the first surgery since I’m starting to believe Brice is telling the truth when it comes to his returning emotions, but it still needs to be done, and two days won’t change much forLibération.
“About a week,” I tell her as I walk to the door.
I have a feeling Shiny Skull is waiting to bring us back to the surface behind it.
Brice walks faster and opens the door for me, but before I pass through it, I turn my face in Christina’s direction.
“If I were you, I’d stock up on steel. You’ll need a lot of it for what I’m working on.”
And then I walk through the door, Brice at my back and the scowling man leading us out.
I’m exhausted, but this is not over.
56
Florentine
When we’re back outside, Brice doesn’t try to ask the questions I saw swirl in his eyes while we were down in the catacombs. Instead, he bends, circles my waist and propels us into the sky.
I barely have time to stop my scream from passing my lips when we’re already airborne and my arms are tightly wound around his neck.
My legs are dangling under me, and I have no idea what to do with them.
Or quite the opposite. I know exactly what I want to do with them—wrap them around Brice’s hips.
