Mercer narrowed his eyes. “I’m busy.”
“Even if she’s lying, there’s a greater chance of her passing out than telling you,” said Hannah. She appeared in my line of sight, and something glinted in her hand.
The gold frame.
Frantically I tried to remember if I’d switched the picture back to the one of Lila and Greyson. I must have—I wouldn’t have left out a picture of me and Benjy for anyone to see.
Desperate hope pulsed through me as Hannah held up the frame for Mercer, and as soon as I caught sight of the picture, I had to bite my lip to keep myself from crying out.
Benjy. She was showing him the picture of me and Benjy, with no idea they were looking at my real face, too.
“Knox said there’s a boy in Section J—Benjamin Doe,” she said. “His former assistant. They had a relationship behind his back. You’d be better off using him to get her to talk.”
“No—no!” I shouted, fighting the restraints. Agony ripped through me, but I didn’t care. “He has nothing to do with this!”
Mercer’s sickening grin returned, and he took the picture from Hannah. “Fascinating. Truly fascinating. I’ll alert the guards. Watch her, darling. She’ll say anything to get out of here.”
“They all will,” said Hannah, and Mercer took the frame and headed up the stairs, leaving the pair of us alone.
“Why did you show him that?” My voice broke, and hot tears stung my eyes. “Benjy had nothing to do with any of this.”
Hannah didn’t answer. Instead she moved toward me, and before I could ask what she was doing, she began to undo the straps.
“Listen to me—we don’t have much time,” she said. “There’s an emergency tunnel underneath the cellar. It’s several miles long, but it’ll lead you to the edge of Elsewhere. Knox is arranging for someone to meet you there.”
I stared at her. “What?”
“You need to go.” She freed my good arm and started on my ankles. “He’ll be back any minute.”
I undid the buckle holding my second arm hostage, wincing as it pulled my shoulder the wrong way. “I’m not leaving. He’s going after Benjy—”
“I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.” She pulled my left leg free. “Jonathan won’t hurt him anyway, not until you’ve been found. He means something to you, and Jonathan won’t risk losing that leverage.”
I shook my head and sat up. “He’s going to kill him—”
“He’s going to kill you if you stay here.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.” Her deft fingers undid the final strap, and I swung my legs off the side of the table. “I don’t know what you were doing in his office, and I don’t care. Right now, all I want is for you to get somewhere safe so he can’t kill you.”
“Why do you even care?” My voice broke, and I cradled my bad arm. “Yesterday, you didn’t want me anywhere near you or your husband.”
“And I still don’t, but for an entirely different reason now.” She pulled the silk belt of her dressing gown through the loops and began fastening it around my shoulder.
“What are you talking about?” I said, wincing as she eased my arm into the makeshift sling. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what’s going on.”
Her expression grew pinched, and she glanced at the stairwell. “Fine. That girl in the picture, the one with your friend—that’s you, isn’t it?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. No point in lying to her. She had already felt the III on the back of my neck. “A year ago. Before I was Masked.”
Hannah took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “So he was telling the truth.”
“Knox?” I said. “Hard to say for sure. What are you talking about?”
She moved into a corner of the workshop and pushed aside a creaky old cabinet. The wood screeched against the concrete floor, and I winced. “That girl in the picture—her name’s Kitty Doe. You’re Kitty Doe.”
I blinked. “How did you—”
“Daxton told me,” she said, and I grew still. “No, not that Daxton. The real Daxton.”
My mouth dropped open. “Wait, you know—”
“Daxton used to come here all the time,” she said. “I met him when I was twenty, and we formed a—bond.”
The idea of Daxton—real or fake—forming the kind of bond she was implying made me gag. “Sorry he forced you to do—whatever it is he made you do.”
“He didn’t make me do anything.” Her voice grew hard and defensive, and she shoved the cabinet a few more inches before crouching down in the corner. I hopped off the table to join her. “I loved him. He loved me. If circumstances had been different—if he hadn’t been married already—if I hadn’t been a prisoner—”
“He would have carried you off to his castle in the sky, and you would have lived happily ever after,” I said. “I get it.”
She rooted around in the corner searching for something I couldn’t see. “He was a good man. His mother was the real problem, you know. He wanted to start imposing sentences that fit the crime. Releasing Extras and giving them a chance. But she insisted he couldn’t do it, not if he wanted to remain in power—”