Several streets away, the first grenade explodes. The ground trembles, the building shudders, and a cloud of dust rains down from the ceiling. The Elector’s jeeps must’ve made an appearance.
I leave my vantage point at the windowsill, then head into the stairwell up to the roof. I keep low, careful to stay out of sight. From here, I get a better view of where smoke from the first explosion is rising, and I can hear the startled shouts of soldiers near it. They’re about three blocks away. I flatten myself onto the broken tiles of the roof as several guards come dashing down the street. They’re yelling something incomprehensible—I’m willing to bet they’re bringing reinforcements over to the bombing area. Too late. By the time they get there, the Elector’s jeep will have turned the corner that we wanted it to turn.
I take out one of my grenades and hold it gingerly in my hand, reminding myself how it works, reminding myself that if I throw it on time, I’ll be going against June’s warning. “It’s an impact grenade,” Pascao had said. “Blows the second it hits. Depress the strike lever. Pull the pin. Throw, and brace yourself.” Off in the distance, another explosion rocks the streets and an accompanying cloud rises. Baxter was in charge of that one—now he’s somewhere on ground level over there, hiding in an alley.
Two blocks away. The Elector is getting closer.
A third explosion goes off. This one’s much closer—the jeep must only be a block away. I steady myself as the ground shakes from the impact. My turn’s coming up. June, I think. Where are you? If she makes a sudden move, what will I do? Over my earpiece, Pascao sounds urgent. “Steady,” he says.
And then I see something that makes me forget everything I’ve promised to do for the Patriots. The door on the second jeep flies open, and out rolls a girl with a long dark ponytail. She tumbles a few times, then struggles to her feet. She looks up to the rooftops and waves her hands frantically in the air.
It’s June. She’s here. And there’s no doubt now that she does not want me to separate the Elector from his guards.
Pascao’s voice comes on again. “Stay the course,” he hisses. “Ignore June—stay the course, do you hear me?”
I don’t know what comes over me—an electric shudder runs down my spine. No—June, you can’t stop now, a part of me says. I want the Elector dead. I want to get Eden back.
But then there’s June, waving her arms in the middle of a street full of danger, risking her life to raise the alarm for me. Whatever her reason, it must be good. It must be. What do I do? Trust her, something deep inside of me says. I squeeze my eyes shut and bow my head.
Each second that ticks by now is a bridge between life and death.
Trust her.
Suddenly I jump up and run across the roof. Pascao shouts something angry at me over the earpiece. I ignore him. As the vehicles pass next to the building I’m on, I pull the pin from my grenade and throw it as far as I can down the block. Right in front of where the Patriots want them to go.
“Day!” Pascao’s frantic voice. “No—what are you—!”
The grenade hits the street. I cover my ears and am instantly thrown off my feet as a blast shakes the earth. The jeeps screech to a halt right in front of the explosion—the Elector’s jeep tries to swerve around the rubble, but one of its tires bursts and forces it to a stop. I’ve completely blocked off the street they were supposed to go down, where the Patriots are waiting for the Elector. And the rest of the Elector’s jeeps are still there, the entire caravan of them.
Now June’s sprinting toward the Elector’s vehicle. If she’s trying to save him, then I have no time to waste. I hop back to my feet, swing over the side of the roof, and grab on to the gutter at the edge of the building. Then I slide down. The gutter pipe pops off the building, throwing me off balance, but I fling myself off it and grab the edge of a nearby windowsill. My feet land on the second floor’s ledge. I hop down to the first floor and roll.
The street’s absolute chaos. Through the shouts and smoke, I can see Republic soldiers running toward the jeeps while the soldiers in the other jeeps rush out to get to the Elector. Some of the Patriots in disguise are hesitating, confused over my mistimed blast. It’s too late to separate the Elector’s jeep from the others now—there are simply too many soldiers. Swarms of them are coming down the street. I feel numb, in some ways as bewildered as they are, still unsure of why I’m going against everything I planned to do.
“Tess!” I shout. She’s right where she’s supposed to be, frozen against the shadows of my building. I reach her and grab her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” she shouts back, but I just whirl her around.
“Tunnel entrance, okay? Don’t ask!” I point her in the direction of the Patriots’ bunker. Where we were supposed to hide after the assassination. Tess’s mouth is open in na**d fear, but she does what I say, darting into the security of the building’s shadows and disappearing from view.
Another explosion rocks the street behind me. The grenade must have come from one of the other Runners. Even though they won’t get the Elector to their planned location, they’re trying to block in the jeeps to make an attempt. Patriots must be running around everywhere. They’re literally going to kill me for what I did. Me and Tess have to reach the tunnel before they find us.
I run up to June right as she reaches the Elector’s jeep. There’s a man inside with dark, wavy hair, and she’s shouting at him as she presses her hands against his window. Another explosion goes off somewhere, forcing June to her knees. I throw myself over her as debris and rubble rain down on us from every direction. A block of cement hits my shoulder, making me shudder in pain. The Patriots are definitely trying to make up for lost time, but the delay has already cost them dearly. If they get desperate, I know they’ll just forget about broadcasting an actual kill and blow up the Elector’s jeep instead. Republic soldiers are pouring into the street. I’m sure they’ve seen me by now too. I hope Tess is safe in the hideout.