Morning Star: Book III of the Red Rising Trilogy by Pierce Brown Read Free Book Online

littlethings.IpromisedtheseGraystoomuch.Ipromisedeveryonetoomuch,especiallyVictra.She was true to me. What was I to her but another person who wanted to use her? Another person her mothertrainedhertobepreparedagainst.
    “Youknowwhatweneed?”Triggasks.
    Ilookupathimintensely.“Justice?”
    “Acoldbeer.”
    Alaughexplodesoutofmymouth.Tooloud.Scaringme.
    “Shit,”Holidaymurmurs,handsflyingoverthecontrols.“Shit.Shit.Shit…”
    “What?”Iask.
    We’re stuck between the 24th and 25th. She punches buttons but suddenly the lift jerks upward.
    “They’ve overridden the controls. We’re not going to make it to the hangar. They’re redirecting us….”Sheletsoutalongbreathasshelooksupatme.“Tothefirstlevel.Shit.Shit.Shit.They’llbe waitingwithlurchers,maybeObsidians…maybeGolds.”Shepauses.“Theyknowyou’reinhere.”
    Ifightbackthedespairthatrushesupfrommybelly.Iwon’tgoback.Whateverhappens.I’llkill Victra,killmyselfbeforeIletthemtakeus.
    Triggishunchedoverhissister.“Canyouhackthesystem?”
    “WhenthehelldoyouthinkIlearnedhowtodothat?”
    “IwishEphraimwashere.Hecould.”
    “Well,I’mnotEphraim.”
    “Whataboutclimbingout?”
    “Ifyouwanttobeaskidmark.”
    “Guessthatleavesoneoption.Eh?”Hereachesintohispocket.“PlanC.”
    “IhatePlanC.”
    “Yeah,well.Timetoembracethesuck,babydoll.Unpacktheheathen.
    “What’sPlanC?”Iaskquietly.
    “Escalation.” Trigg activates his comlink. Codes flash over his screen as he connects to a secure frequency.“OutridertoWrathbone,doyouregister?Outriderto—”
    “Wrathboneregisters,” aghostlyvoiceechoes. “RequestclearancecodeEcho.Over.”
    Triggreferenceshisdatapad.“13439283.Over.”
    “Codeisgreen.”
    “Weneedsecondaryextractioninfive.Gottheprincessplusoneatstagetwo.”
    There’s a pause on the other line, the relief in the voice palpable even through the static. “Late notice.”
    “Murderain’texactlypunctual.”
    “Bethereinten.Keephimalive.” Thelinkgoesdead.
    “Goddamnamateurs,”Triggmutters.
    “Tenminutes,”Holidayrepeats.
    “We’vebeeninworseshit.”
    “When?”Hedoesn’tanswerher.“Shouldhavejustgonetothegoddamnhangar.”
    “WhatcanIdo?”Iask,sensingtheirfear.“CanIhelp?”
    “Don’tdie,”Holidaysaysassheslidesoffherbackpack.“Thenthisisallforshit.”
    “Yougottadragyourfriend,”Triggsaysashestartspickingtechoffhisbodyexcepthisarmor.He pulls two more antique weapons from his pack—two pistols to complement the high-powered gas ambi-rifle. He hands me a pistol. My hand shakes. I haven’t held a gunpowder weapon since I was sixteen training with the Sons. They’re vastly inefficient and heavy, and their recoil makes them wildlyinaccurate.
    Holidaypullsalargeplasticboxfromherpack.Herfingerspauseoverthelatches.
    Sheopenstheplasticboxtorevealametalcylinderwithaspinningballofmercuryatitscenter.I stareatthedevice.IftheSocietycaughthercarryingit,she’dneverseedaylightagain.Vastlyillegal.I eye the gravLift’s display on the wall. Ten levels to go. Holiday grips a remote control for the cylinder.Eightlevels.
    WillCassiusbewaiting?Aja?TheJackal?No.Theywouldbeontheirship,preparingfordinner.
    TheJackalwouldbelivinghislife.Theywon’tknowthealarmisforme.Andevenwhentheydo, they’llbedelayed.Butthere’senoughtofearevenwithoutoneofthemcoming.AnObsidiancould
    rip these two apart with his bare hands. Trigg knows. He closes his eyes, touching his chest at four pointstomakeacross.Aweddingbandglintssoftlyinthelowlight.Holidaymindsthegesture,but doesn’tdothesame.
    “This is our profession,” she says quietly to me. “So swallow your pride. Stay behind us and let TriggandIwork.”
    Triggcrackshisneckandkisseshisglovedleftringfinger.“Stayclose.Nuttobutt,sir.Don’tbe shy.”
    Threelevelstogo.
    Holiday readies a gas rifle in her right hand and chews intensely on her gum, left thumb on the remotecontrol.Oneleveltogo.We’reslowing.Watchingthedoubledoors.IloopVictra’slegsinmy