Every Missing Piece

Chapter Twenty-Five

As soon as Mercy leaves, I can't resist breaking the silence. "Do you really think she'll come back?" I ask, pointing to the direction that she disappeared to with Leif.

Mason shakes his head. "Mercy was fidgeting the whole time she was talking to us. She always does that when she's hiding something."

I quickly recall many of the times when Mercy had bounced on the balls of her feet, shifted her weight back and forth, been so close to complete stillness except for one constant, nervous movement. "But she fidgets a lot, doesn't she?"

"It's enough to make you wonder, isn't it?"

I start to answer when Mason brushes past me to adjust the way the ladder leans against the wall. "Let's not talk about that now," he says brusquely. "We need to get going or Mercy might actually come back before we've made any progress. Give me a hand?"

I grasp one of the ladder rungs and wince as soon as my fingers wrap around the metal: after its long exposure to the night's low temperatures and brutal winds, the ladder is so cold to the touch that it feels like it's burning my gloveless hand. Gritting my teeth, I help Mason guide the ladder into place beneath a third story window. I step back and Mason gives the ladder a few firm shakes.

"Ice," he explains when he notices my strange look. "Tonight's the perfect night for it, and if the ladder started to slip while either of us was on it, I don't know what we'd do." He gives the ladder another shake. "It seems pretty stable. We picked a good window."

I don't answer. I'm too busy staring up, first to the window that I'll somehow break through in a couple minutes, then higher still to where the Assembly is probably keeping Taryn.

What am I doing here? Of all the things I could have gotten entangled in, why did it have to be this? I'm not meant for rebellions or politics or difficult choices.

"Who's going first?" Mason asks softly.

"Me."

Even if I don't belong here, I will rescue my sister, and I will dive in headfirst to do it.

I take a few steps forward, and I'm suddenly hyperaware of everything around me: the crunch of hardened snow beneath my feet, the sputtering streetlamp in the distance, my own shaking breath. It's like the world is moving in slow motion around me when I put one foot on the ladder, then another, then another again. Mason was right: it doesn't budge an inch.

"This is a terrible idea," I complain, looking over at Mason.

"Probably."

"It's never going to work."

"Most likely not."

"You must think I'm crazy for risking so much for one person."

Mason hesitates, and a shadow passes over his face before he speaks again. "It was always you, you know," he says at last.

His words don't make any sense, but there's something so insistent in his eyes, so urgent in the way he steps closer to the ladder, that I can't help but retreat down a couple rungs until we're level with each other. "What do you mean, it was always me?" I ask. "It was always me what?"

Mason takes a deep breath, and I see his grasp around the side of the ladder tighten, just inches away from where my frozen hand is trying to stay steady. "I told you about how I couldn't protect my family from the Assembly," he reminds me. "How it was too late for them by the time I realized that the Assembly's threats were real. I told you that I joined the Assembly, not because I had given up, but because I wasn't done fighting yet. You never asked who I was fighting for. Don't you want to know?"