Publication date: August 19th 2013
Genres: Dystopia, Young Adult
Remy Alexander was born into the elite meritocracy of the Okarian Sector. From an early age, she and her friends were programmed for intellectual and physical superiority through specialized dietary regimes administered by the Okarian Agricultural Consortium. But when her older sister Tai was murdered in a brutal classroom massacre, her parents began to suspect foul play. They fled the Sector, taking their surviving daughter underground to join the nascent Resistance movement. But now, three years later, Remy’s former schoolgirl crush, Valerian Orleán, is put in charge of hunting and destroying the Resistance. As Remy and her friends race to unravel the mystery behind her sister’s murder, Vale is haunted by the memory of his friendship with Remy and is determined to find out why she disappeared. As the Resistance begins to fight back against the Sector, and Vale and Remy search for the answers to their own questions, the two are set on a collision course that could bring everyone together—or tear everything apart.
I see a pair of black, shiny military-issue boots emerge from the hovercar and crunch on the gravel and broken glass. I look up to try to identify the face atop the boots but the light is too bright, and I can’t see. I pull my Bolt out from under me and aim it at the faceless boots.
“They’re surrounded, sir,” I hear someone say. “The target is trapped in the building.”
What target? Trapped in the building? Oh, god…
“Eli, they’re coming for you,” I pant. “Get out.”
“What?” he shouts back at me.
I breathe through the pain, prop myself up, and watch as the face that’s been haunting me for the last three years materializes above the boots. His grey eyes are full of concern, his face set into a grim expression as he stares me down. All I see is his stiff commander’s uniform, the shiny, brand-new hovercar waiting behind him, his perfectly polished boots. My heart thuds against my rib cage so hard it feels like it has a life of its own, a history and a future independent of anything I’ve ever been or will be. I grit my teeth so hard I think my jaw might shatter, and point the gun at Valerian Orleán.
“Remy, your leg.” He looks down at the Bolt pointed at him with a sickening expression of anger and anguish. He opens his palm to me like a peace offering, as though he seriously expects me to put my hand in his. “Are you okay?”
How can he be so calm when I’ve got a Bolt pointed at his heart?
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