Free [Contributor 02] - Infiltrator (2013) by Nicole Ciacchella Page A

so is my father. I want to think you’re my friend, Raj, but you wouldn’t be the only one to have done something important for me because it got you what you wanted. It’s what Magnum has done all my life. I want to believe in your cause, want to believe that what you’re doing will result in a better world, but I have no real way of knowing that you won’t use me and discard me when I’m no longer useful to you, like Magnum did with my mom.”
    “I know.”
    It surprised her that he didn’t argue, but it didn’t make her any less wary. She thought of how implicitly she’d once trusted people and how much pain it had caused her. Yet it didn’t feel any better to refuse to trust anyone. Mal rubbed her the wrong way, but she didn’t doubt the strength of his conviction, and she couldn’t fault him for that. Tasha seemed like a nice enough girl, but Dara knew so little about her. But Raj, Raj was the one person she felt she knew better than most anyone else. She had seen what he had done for her mother, what he was still doing, and there was no payoff in it for him. A cynic might believe he was doing it to earn her trust, but she knew he would continue to watch out for her mother even if she refused to help the Free Thinkers. It made her want to trust him.
    “I don’t know who to trust anymore, other than my dad,” she said.
    “Honestly, none of us do.” He gave her a crooked smile and a half-shrug, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
    “What about your parents? Do you trust them?”
    Pain flashed in his eyes and he turned away, inspecting the featureless concrete wall. “I don’t know either way. They don’t know what happened to me.”
    “They don’t?” Her eyes widened in shock and she stopped walking, staring at him.
    “I couldn’t risk it. When I found out—when I realized some truths about the Creators, I didn’t know if I could go to my parents. I didn’t know who they would believe and, anyway, I didn’t want to implicate them in anything. I just… I left. They don’t know where I am.”
    His shoulders tightened as he withdrew into himself, and she ached for him. As much as she hated having her father involved in something that could have such dire consequences for him, what Raj had suffered was far worse.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay.” He glanced over his shoulder and gave her another crooked smile, the pain in his eyes plain. “Maybe someday things will be different. I hope they will be.”
    “I hope you’ll be able to see them again sometime, if that’s what you want.” Putting a hand on his shoulder, she felt the tension in his body, the way his muscles were bunched until they were as tight and hard as the concrete box in which they stood.
    “It is.” His voice was so faint it was difficult to hear, and neither of them spoke for a long moment. “Come on. We need to get you to the door,” he said at last.
    Dara chewed her lip as they continued, and she couldn’t resist asking him the question that was nagging at her. “What did you mean by when you realized some truths about the Creators? What truths?”
    He took a shuddering breath, and her stomach felt leaden with dread. What could be worse than what she’d already heard?
    “We don’t have time to get into it, and, no offense, it’s not something I’m about to share yet. Someday I might tell you, but they’re truths I can’t trust to just anyone. I hope you understand.”
    “Okay,” she said, not sure if she did understand. Rubbing her weary eyes, she thought about the web of secrets and lies in which she was now entangled, and it made her feel tired, so tired.
    Was it better before, when you lied to your mother, lied to Andersen, lied to everyone about what was going on at home? Your whole life has been a lie.
    Clinging to the steel railing, she had to expend a lot of effort to trudge up the stairs. This wasn’t the life she had expected to lead, but she was mature enough to recognize that any life she