True Born Read Online Free PDF

sunset. Silence in between.
    And not a single glimpse of my blond stranger.
    It wouldn’t be so bad, or maybe I’d call it typical, except that I can’t shake the feeling that the secrets are mounting. Our father is more distracted than usual. We notice this because he forgets to be harsh with us on the long morning drives as Shane drops us off at school before taking Father to his office at the Capitol building.
    Absently I run my fingers in my little purse until they clasp hard, cold plastic. The phone with its one number rides to school with me every day. At night it sits under my pillow, never too far from reach—much like my memory of meeting the merc with the sunlight hair, stamped indelibly in my brain.
    “Girls.” Our father suddenly stares at us with an odd expression.
    “Yes, Father,” we reply automatically.
    “Something to keep in mind for your Reveal.” Our Reveal? Father doesn’t bother with the details of things like our coming-of-age party. And it’s still a good six weeks away. Unless there is something he needs to tell us . My stomach churns with horror. I grip my sister’s hand tightly between us, all thoughts of happiness fled.
    Our father’s gaze wanders out the window moodily, whatever he wanted to tell us forgotten. It must be bad. I can’t stand the suspense. “What is it, Father?” I prompt.
    He frowns back at us, the spot above his nose crinkling in displeasure. “We ’ ll soon be hosting a very important business associate from Russia. I have to tell you”—our father leans over his knees, his black leather gloves snapping against the fabric of his pants as he stares intently at us—“this guest is the most important guest we have ever entertained.” Beside me, Margot taps a slim finger against her wrist in exclamation. Our father has never sounded like this before. He pins us to our seats with eyes of fire and ice. “He wi ll be present at your Reveal. In fact, he may escort one of you. I will expect you to play your part to keep him happy.”
    “Yes, Father,” we say again. Waves of disappointment and relief wash through us. Not the worst news, then: not the “L” word. But what of this?
    “Is there something we can do to help you, Father?” I say quietly.
    A small smirk folds up the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he drawls, leaning back in his seat. “You can be the perfect daughters I raised. Stay out of trouble”—his eyes laser into ours—“and when the time is right, do your duty to the family.” His words send shivers down my spine.
    I sit in shocked silence beside my sister as our father goes back to staring out the window. Outside, Dominion rolls by in all its wrecked decadence.
    “Father,” Margot chirps beside me.
    “Hmm?” Our father chokes the life out of his gloves as he watches the streets. There is a strange moodiness in the air today, like a storm is about to burst. We pass the checkpoint fashioned of chicken wire manned by one of Grayguard’s blue-clad mercs.
    “Deirdre Phalon told us that the Feeds were wrong. She said there’s an insurrection going on. Something to do with the preachers and the rabble.”
    Our father shakes off his vagueness in an instant and trains cold eyes on Margot. “Where did you hear that?”
    “Deirdre Phalon,” she says again.
    “And where, pray tell, did Deirdre Phalon, that insipid airhead, hear that?” His jaw clenches with anger. I wish Margot would stop, but she’s always been the braver one. The one who asks what she shouldn’t.
    “Her parents, I reckon,” her voice trails off.
    “You shouldn’t listen to idle gossip, Margot.”
    “But you’d know, wouldn’t you, Father?” I chime in. My hand finds Margot’s on the seat between us. I cover her fingers. Our signal that I’m coming in for a rescue. “They’d tell you the truth.”
    “Yes.” His clipped tones still spell disapproval, but his mood lightens.
    “I bet you heard the rumors, too, and that’s why you hired Mr. Storm. Just