Nameless (Broken City 1)

"Ryder, I think I need to tell you something." I keep my voice low. "About what I heard in the shower."

Ryder pulls his hand back from the lantern, looking at me apprehensively. "What happened? Did someone try to hurt you?"

I swiftly shake my head. "It's not like that ... I mean, a guy and a girl were knocking on the door, and trying to convince me to let them in. But when I wouldn't, they left."

Relief washes over his face. "Good. I'm glad you didn't open the door. You can't trust people down here."

"That's what Blaise said."

He peers around the busy room then leans closer to me. "Do you know why they were trying to get in?"

"No, but it kind of sounded like they knew"--I wiggle my wrist--"about this. They said maybe I was one of them."

He dazes off, sketching his fingers along the cut on his cheek. "We need to make sure you're around Blaise, Reece, or me the entire time we're here. Reece was probably right when he said it wasn't a good idea to bring you here. The posts used to be safe, but too many strays started wandering in, and they don't always like following the rules. Some of them are as bad as the wardens."

"How long do you think we'll stay down here?"

"I'm not sure. There was a dirt storm blowing in when Reece and I got here. It's not safe being outside during one. The wind gets so powerful it can literally blow people away. And the air's so thick with dirt it's impossible to breathe. The last thing we should be doing is putting you out in that shit." He traces his finger down the brim of my nose, smiling. "Besides, you look so pretty all cleaned up. I think we should let you stay like this for as long as possible."

I pick at a crack in the table, trying to distract myself from my fluttering heart. "Ryder ... What do I look like?"

"You don't know?" he questions before realization dawns. "The wardens never let you look in a mirror, did they?"

I lift my gaze to him. "No. But I know what one is. I'm not sure why. It's just another thing that I know that I probably shouldn't, right?"

"I'm not sure." He assesses me with his brows knit. "You're full of all sorts of mystery, aren't you?"

"I guess so..." Is that a bad thing?

He tugs a strand of my hair then pushes away from the table. "Come. Let's go find a mirror."

I follow his lead and get to my feet. Intertwining our fingers, he steers me across the room, squeezing past people and heading for the doors. But at the last second he veers right and ventures toward a hallway. As we pass by Mable's door, I'm reminded of the voice I heard.

"Ryder, there's something else I need to tell you." I clasp his hand as we pass by a woman and a man, laughing and playfully shoving each other.

When they walk by us, they give Ryder a nod, which he returns, but they eye me curiously. I glance over my shoulder, expecting someone else to be there, because why would they look at me like that? No one's there, though.

I wait until they're out of earshot before I continue telling Ryder what happened. "There was this voice ... this hissing. I heard it when I was in the shower and then when I got out." When he casts a puzzled glance over his shoulder, I quickly tell him about what happened when Blaise and I were in the trunk.

"Blaise mentioned the Tracker knew your name," Ryder says when I'm finished. "You didn't see the red eyes when you heard the voice in the shower, did you?"

I shake my head. "Do you know what those are?"

"No. And neither does Reece." He stops in front of a pair of thick double doors and faces me. "Which is saying a lot, because Reece knows almost everything."

"Should I be worried?" I ask. "That it knew my name."

"No." He places a hand on each side of my neck and lowers his head so we're eye level. "We promised we wouldn't let anything happen to you, and we won't. Blaise, Reece, and I take our promises very seriously." He winks at me as his thumb skims down the side of my throat. "Especially when it comes to pretty girls."

A strange, confusing, bitter emotion stirs inside me. How many pretty girls have they helped? Am I one of many? Why do I care? It seems so silly.

"I didn't mean it like that. We don't go around rescuing girls all the time and promising them shit." He seems flustered. "Allura, stop looking at me like that. There hasn't been a lot of girls."

"Sorry," I say. "I don't know how I look, though."

"Your nose is all scrunched up." He softly brushes his finger across my nose. "And while it's cute, it's making me feel like I did something bad."

"Oh." I wiggle my nose, trying to erase the look.

He chuckles. "You're going to be a handful. I can tell."

"That doesn't sound like a good thing to be."

His lips quirk as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Don't worry. I'm just teasing you."

Teasing? Is that why he's smiling at me like that, all cheery and playful, like he's happy to be with me? I shake my head. It doesn't really matter right now. We've gotten off topic, and I need to tell him about the voice I heard.

"Ryder, about the hissing ... It kind of sounded like ... like Lex ... that warden who talked to me in the cell and told me his name."

His smile falters. "That's odd. I've never heard of one mimicking a specific voice. And I don't know how you could've heard the voice that clearly from down here--the walls are too thick. Are you sure it sounded like Lex? Maybe it just sounded similar."

"Yeah, maybe." I still feel unsettled, though. "It did sound a lot like him. And Lex threatened to find me when we were escaping the channels. Maybe he's been tracking me the whole time and knows I'm here. Can wardens do that?"

"They can, but we weren't followed from the channels. We were careful about that. And the last place the Tracker tracked us was miles from here. Besides, a warden can't get down here without everyone knowing about it. There's only one way into East City Post, and it's through the door we came in. And it doesn't open from the outside. The only way someone gets in is if they're let in."

"But maybe someone did let him in. Everyone keeps saying how there's a lot of bad people down here. What if a bad person let in a warden and didn't tell anyone?"

Ryder drags his thumb across his lip, mulling something over. "Shit. You could be right." Before I can panic, he adds, "I don't want you to worry about this. I'll have Blaise and Reece look around and make sure the location's safe."

I fidget with the hem of my sleeve, feeling restless. "And what do I do while they look around?"

"You stay with me the entire time. Never leave my side, no matter what." He drapes an arm around me and pulls me to his side. "From now on, you and I are attached at the hip."

I nod, more than willing to stay beside him at all times. The last thing I want is to be alone again.

"Now, time to unveil your prettiness." He's all smiles as he opens the double doors.

Instead of walking into the room, he moves back and gestures for me to go in first. I timidly step over the threshold and enter a room smaller than my old cell.

Like the other rooms at East City Post, the metal walls and limited lighting make the atmosphere dull, but not nearly as bad as in the channels.

I take another step and another, inching my way into the room. Then my breath hitches in my throat.

At least a dozen mirrors form a half-circle around the room. Some of the surfaces are cracked or chipped, but my reflection bounces back at me from each one. Big, brown eyes; pale, freckly, scarred skin; mounds of long, wavy brown hair; all of my features carry familiarity. I've seen my reflection before, but a long time ago, when I was much younger. I run my hands over my waist and hips. I didn't have so many curves before, although curves might be a stretch. My body looks nowhere near like Lucille's. Frail, thin, gangly are the first words that pop into my mind as I stare at my slender neck, protruding collarbone, and long limbs.

"You need more meat on your bones, but that's only because you haven't been fed properly." Ryder steps up behind me and captures my gaze in the mirror. "Do you want to know what my favorite part is?

"

I nod. He has a favorite part?

He inches closer until his chest touches my back. Then he slips a hand around to the front of me and sweeps his knuckles along my cheeks and nose. "Your freckles."

"Really?" I lean forward to examine the tiny dots splattering my cheekbones and nose. I poke my cheeks, my nose, and the dark circles under my eyes. "I think the freckles make me look like I have dirt on my face."

"No way. They're cute. Trust me. And your eyes are big and beautiful, and your nose is adorable." His smile is so genuine I want to believe him. He dips his face toward the top of my head and inhales, smelling my hair. "You smell good, too. Like rain."

I like the idea that I smell like rain and that my freckles, eyes, and nose are cute, but I just can't see all of this myself. I study my reflection harder, trying to see what he does, but I stare for so long my eyes begin to water and my face becomes a hazy splotch. It's like I'm reliving the forgotten memories again, seeing everything through a blindfold. Then, for a flash of an instant, I swear my eyes glow red.

I jerk back, dabbing the water from my eyes until my vision comes back into focus. I look back at the mirror again and breathe in relief when my eyes look brown again.