Pawn. Aimee Carter

for life, but it wouldn’t last long. One less sanitation worker wasn’t anything for the Harts to cry about, and when they didn’t need me anymore, that would be the end of it. The only chance I had at survival was to make sure they needed me until I was ready to make a break for it.

      Stay alive. Stay safe. Make Daxton think I was his, and one day I would find a way out of this and back to Benjy. Those were the things that mattered. Whatever Daxton made me do in the meantime would be worth it.

      But what was so important that they had to keep Lila alive through me? The people loved her, but tragedies happened. What had she done to make her life so indispensable?

      And why had Daxton killed her in the first place?

      * * *

      I didn’t mean to fall asleep. When I woke up, Daxton was gone, and sunlight streamed into the room through a window behind me that I hadn’t noticed earlier. All I could see through it was blue sky, but at least now I had another way out of here if I needed it.

      I rolled over to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight, and I noticed the white couch on the other side of the room. With a jolt I remembered what had happened. I touched my face—Lila’s face—and felt the strange angles and curves. Even her skin was smoother than mine had ever been.

      My neck itched, and as I started to scratch it, I froze.

      I could move.

      I stared at my hands. The skin was so white I looked like I’d never been outside, my nails were perfect and smooth, and when I pressed my fingertips together, they throbbed. Now that the medication had worn off, I could feel every little thing they’d done, and my face wasn’t the only thing they’d changed.

      Pushing the blanket from my body, I examined the skin exposed around my flimsy hospital gown. So much paler than my own, without a single freckle or mole. My hip felt tender, and when I pulled up the gown, I saw a delicate tattoo of a butterfly.

      So that was what Celia had been talking about. The media would’ve had a field day if they’d known their precious Lila had had it.

      “See something you like?” said an unfamiliar voice, and I yanked the blanket back over my lap. Leaning against the doorway, with his arms crossed and his dark hair tousled as if he’d just stepped indoors on a windy day, was Lennox Creed.

      Knox. Lila’s fiancé. My fiancé.

      I scowled. “She has a tattoo.”

      “We all do.” Knox rubbed the back of his neck, and a small thrill ran through me. Did I outrank him? Outranking IIs was nothing, but if he really was a VI...

      “On her hip,” I said. “Of a butterfly.”

      “Ah, that one.” He stepped into the room and pulled off his jacket. By the time he reached my bedside, I could smell the cold leather. “She had a lot of secrets.”

      “Were any bad enough that the prime minister decided she couldn’t die properly like the rest of us?”

      Knox smiled grimly. “Apparently.”

      At a loss for what to say, I stared at him instead. He stared back. “You’re Knox,” I said.

      “And you’re not Lila.” He made himself comfortable on the edge of the mattress. “Celia said your name’s Kitty. True?”

      “Yeah,” I said, trying to keep an edge in my voice. It still sounded funny to me—had they somehow made me sound like Lila, too? They must have, else I didn’t see how they expected me to pull this off. “What do you want?”

      Instead of answering, he stuck out his hand for me to shake. I eyed him as I took it. There was something about him I didn’t trust. It wasn’t every day some strange girl showed up with the face of his fiancée, and he was being too nice, too—casual with this.

      “You have a strong grip,” he said. “You’ll need to fix that before you go out in public. Lila was always very delicate.”

      “I’ll work on it.” I hesitated. Knox had obviously been close to Lila, and he could be my ticket to pulling off this charade. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. “Is that why you’re here? To criticize my grip?”

      “Partially,” he said drily. “Celia and I have agreed to work with you to make sure you transition to Lila’s life as seamlessly as possible, so you’ll be seeing plenty of both of us. In the meantime, I thought I’d introduce myself, since we’re going to be married in a few months and all.”

      My stomach cramped. Daxton had mentioned I still had to marry him, but part of me had hoped that Knox wouldn’t go along with it now that he wouldn’t be marrying Lila. “I didn’t—” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat. “The prime minister said it was only temporary—”

      “Not that temporary,” he said. “The wedding’s set for New Year’s Eve. Lila didn’t do much to help with planning, so you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”

      “And what if I don’t want to marry you?” I said. “Do I get a say in this?”

      The corners of his mouth tugged upward into a darkly amused smile. “Considering Lila didn’t want to marry me either, I’d say no.”

      Terrific. On top of everything else, now I had to worry about explaining this to Benjy. “I have a boyfriend.”

      “Yes, you do,” he said. “Me.”

      “One I actually like.”

      “You’ll learn to like me eventually,” said Knox. “Most people do.”

      I bit back a retort and ran my tongue over my teeth. They were different, too—straighter, and my front teeth were smaller now. I touched my new face again, mapping out the new contours, and instinctively I brushed my fingertips against the back of my neck to reassure myself of my new mark. Except—

      My blood ran cold. Three ridges to indicate a III, not the VII that should have been there. I pulled my hair away from my neck and turned so Knox could see it. “What’s there?” I said urgently. “What rank?”

      “A VII,” he said, the confusion in his voice clear. When I turned back around, I must’ve looked as panicked as I felt, because he reached forward without asking. I leaned away, clutching the sheets. He paused. “I’m not going to hurt you. May I?”

      Wordlessly I nodded, and he ran his fingers against my mark.

      “You were a III?” he said. “Christ, that’s rotten.”

      He could tell. The ink said I was a VII, just like Daxton had promised, but the ridges underneath my skin were still there. And if Knox could tell, anyone could. My heart hammered. “They said I’d be a VII, not—”

      “Insurance,” said Knox. “They need a way to control you and prove you’re not Lila if they have to. Don’t worry about it, though. It won’t come to that, and no one in their right mind will check your rank.”

      I forced myself to breathe steadily. It would be a problem after I ran, but until then, Knox was right. There was no reason for anyone to think I wasn’t Lila, nothing to connect her to an Extra III who was supposed to be in Denver. No one but Tabs, and she was already dead.

      No, Tabs wasn’t the only person who knew where I’d been. Daxton had no way of knowing about Benjy, though. He couldn’t.

      But what if he did?

      I pushed the blanket away and swung my legs around to the side of the bed, ignoring the sharp pain as my feet touched the floor. Something felt off, but whatever else they’d done to me didn’t matter. I had to find a way to warn Benjy.

      I pushed myself off the bed and stood. No, not stood—I swayed, seconds away from falling, and my legs shook under the stress of bearing my weight. Shit.

      “Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Knox reached out to steady me, and when I tried to take