Page 85 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“He’s…” I swallow. “One of you?”

Carrson feels the tension in me. His arm draws me closer, his hand moving down my back.

“They all are.”

I look over the room again, but the people surrounding us no longer resemble guests at a party. A four-star general speaks with the director of a federal intelligence agency beside one of the richest bankers in New York. The British Chancellor of the Exchequer laughs with a Saudi prince. A European defense minister accepts champagne from the owner of a media empire whose networks reach half the world.

These people don’t merely influence governments from the outside.

They run them. Finance them. Arm them. Control which stories the public hears and which disappear before anyone knows to ask.

Understanding moves through me, sickening. I’d mistaken secrecy for smallness. Imagined The Order as a collection of wealthy families hiding in old mansions, their influence confined to universities, corporations, and backroom political favors.

I was wrong.

Their world has no borders.

If Carrson and I ran, we couldn’t trust the police, the courts, the banks, or the people watching the airports. We couldn’t cross an ocean and hope another country would protect us. The people who control the world are all standing here with drinks in their hands. Here to watch me be bonded and sealed.

The back of my throat burns. “We wouldn’t have made it, would we? If we’d run after seeing my father.”

Carrson’s hand stops against my back.

“There are too many of them,” I whisper. “They’re too powerful.”

“No.” The sadness in his eyes matches mine. “But for you, I was willing to try.”

Rebecca is over by the bar, talking with dignitaries from Chad. She glances my way, and I have an urge to yell at her that what she wants is impossible. What Silas wants is impossible. There’s no way to bring down an organization like this, not from the inside or the outside. Not when it looks like this and reaches this far. It’s ludicrous, suicidal, to even try.

Once, after what happened to me senior year, I wished for death. Now, with Carrson beside me, I want to cling to life. To give every breath the gratitude it deserves. But how can I when the difference between safety and ruin is one wrong word, one disapproving glance, one order given by any of the people in this room? Every one of them is a threat to me. To Carrson. To the life I’ve just begun to want.

Carr comes over then. “Carrson. Laurel.” He greets each of us before placing a hand on Carrson’s arm. “The dean of the law school is here. I want you to speak with him about the internship I mentioned. The one at Oxford.”

He pulls at Carrson’s arm, but Carrson digs in his heels. “Not without Laurel.”

Carr sighs. “You can’t keep hovering over her, son. It only makes her look weak.”

Rebecca joins us, holding a glass of wine by its stem. The color almost perfectly matches my dress.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Carrson won’t leave Laurel’s side,” Carr explains. “It’s becoming obvious.”

“Your father is right, Carrson.” Rebecca takes a sip. Carr’s eyes follow the drink to her lips.

“Can you stay with her?” Carrson asks, sounding hopeful.

“That won’t help.” Rebecca places her glass on the tray of a passing waiter, even though it’s only half-finished.

The gesture is odd enough that I wonder if she does it for Carr. So he doesn’t have to watch her drink.

“Laurel needs to be seen on her own, approaching members and engaging them.” She smiles at me, far less intimidating than she was while recruiting me into her rebellion. “Have faith in her, Carrson. You picked well.”

My chest puffs out at that.

Carrson looks at me, and I see his worry.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”