Being Emerald. Sylvia Ryan

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      “Come on.” He freed his hand, and stepped aside so she could enter the room.

      Everyone looked at her when she re-entered. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’m feeling a bit under the weather today.”

      General Morgan’s expression conveyed concern. “Well let’s wrap this up, then.”

      Laila nodded her thanks to the General, sat, and avoided eye contact with everyone in the room.

      When the meeting adjourned, she remained at the table to avoid getting pulled into a conversation. The problem was Sydney Parr remained, too.

      She didn’t need to look up to know Sydney’s striking, light green eyes bore down on her. She could no longer pretend she hadn’t noticed Sydney wasn’t leaving. With her caramel skin and dark hair, the exotic-looking woman’s bitchy glare made Laila feel like shrinking away. Sydney scanned her face, then the new emerald tattoo circling her wrist, and malevolence marred the woman’s beautiful features.

      The prejudice and slurs would come next. She might have an emerald band around her wrist, but to most, it didn’t matter. She would always be an Amber—stupid, diseased, inferior.

      “You’re Emerald now?”

      “Yes.” Laila smiled and looked pointedly at Sydney’s Sapphire tattoo. “And you’re not.”

      “Don’t let that green around your wrist make you think you’re better than everyone else. You’re still spawned from inferior stock.”

      “I earned my designation. I wasn’t born into it like you were. Looks like you were a mere eye color away from growing up in Amber with me.” Laila knew better than to bait the woman like that, but she couldn’t help herself.

      “He’s not into you.”

      “Who?”

      “Morgan. It was pretty obvious he was touching you to irritate Rock.”

      “I agree.”

      Sydney nodded. “As long as you know your place.”

      Rock walked back into the conference room. His gaze ping-ponged between them, finally landing on Laila. He stared at her, as if he inspected her insides. Peered directly into her soul.

      She fought the urge to squirm. He did an excellent job of making her feel as if he knew her better than she knew herself.

      He frowned and gestured toward the door. “Sydney, may I speak with you?”

      “Of course. Excuse me.” As she rose from the table, she gave Laila a sugary-sweet smile. “It was nice chatting with you.”

      Rock followed Sydney out.

      Laila berated herself for standing up to Sydney and pissing her off. She’d handled those kinds of comments better. Ultimately, she didn’t regret what she’d said.

      Taking a jab at Sydney was not the only situation she could have handled better that morning. She couldn’t lose it as she had in the meeting. Letting emotions, hers or another’s, draw unwanted attention to her could be a fatal mistake. One she couldn’t afford if she was going to complete the mission—both missions.

      Chapter 3

      Laila lay wide-awake in her dark bedroom. It was becoming a pattern. The night before, she hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour or two. The whole move to the Emerald Zone had her out of sorts.

      Five years ago, when her IQ testing promptly landed her a Sapphire designation and a one way ticket out of the Amber Zone. It had been a brutal adjustment. She’d thought she was going to a new, better place. She’d been a child who dreamed of happily ever after with the Sapphire Zone being a land of unicorns and rainbows. It had taken no time at all to realize she was expected to pick up the unicorn shit.

      Her naiveté at the tender age of twenty-one was laughable. No one had told her when she’d been hustled off into Sapphire that the majority of people living in her new zone would treat her as if the tattoo around her wrist was still amber instead of the rich blue she’d worked so hard for. Her physical characteristics marked her as Amber. It didn’t matter what color was around her wrist.

      The Emerald Zone didn’t seem much different. Bigger house, different color around her wrist, but still, the day in and day out of her life remained the same. People stared at her as if they might be able to spot her defects. She rarely left her apartment, except to go to her office. In the past five years, as Morgan Jr. came into power, the National Guard’s constant, intimidating presence and the growing undertones of fear she sensed in practically everybody she met made her increasingly uneasy. Mostly she hid, submerging herself in her program.

      Tonight, she was more tired than she could ever remember being, yet her mind refused to rest. She didn’t consider herself a worrier, but the complete upheaval of her life, combined with the growing apprehension about her Resistance mission had led her to this—another stint of tossing and turning, racing thoughts, and now, something new to think about—Rock.

      She swung her feet off the edge of the bed. The late spring breeze moved the curtains of the window overlooking her street. She’d seen him arrive at his home, which was across the street from her own new monstrosity.

      To know someone like him was so close was maddening. Her heartbeat gave a little flutter. She’d met him once before, on the first day she’d been granted access to The Onyx Zone Recovery Compound. They called it OZ. It had been an introduction in passing, shared hellos and then they’d gone their separate ways. She’d been to the compound several times since, transferring items necessary for the trip from her office in the Peacekeeper’s Compound to the tiny, makeshift space they’d allotted her in OZ. Many times she’d sat there alone, gazing out the window, watching Rock jog the perimeter of the compound before the heat of the day became oppressive.

      Maybe he suffered like her.

      She stood and pulled the curtain back.

      A faint light radiated out his front windows. She checked the time. Ten fifteen. Laila slipped on her flip-flops, treaded down the steps and out her front door. His house was modern and looked larger than hers. Its jutting roofline accommodated vertical transom windows at the peak before another plane sliced down the front of the house.

      She felt him even now as she crossed the street and entered his yard. He was calm and lonely. The rage from earlier in the day had diffused. The connection between them dumbfounded her. It was as if a part of her had slipped into its rightful place the first time she’d reached out to see if she could feel him.

      He’d been raised Amber. If he didn’t want company, the door would be locked. She turned the knob, and the door swung inward into a silent great room bathed in dark shadows. He sat toward the back of the space underneath a light. Goose bumps rose on her arms as she approached him. His back was to her as he fiddled with something at the kitchen island.

      She cleared her throat. “I saw your lights on.”

      There was no element of surprise in his expression as he glanced up at the single light shining over his head. “Barely.”

      She smiled. “How do you stand it? It’s a ghost СКАЧАТЬ