Born of Fire

That was very true. “I think the hardest thing for me was watching Caillen drop out of school to help out. He was so smart and made such good grades I know he could have gone on to university and done something great with his life. Instead he’s now a low-rate smuggler like our father.”


“He’s not low rate. He’s one of the best pilots I have.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

He inclined his head to her. “Personally, I think you should have made Kasen get off her lazy ass and work.”

“That’s harsh,” she snapped with a frown. “You know she really likes you.”

“Yeah, well, considering I’m one of the extremely few people she can stand for more than three seconds, that’s not saying much.”

Her frown deepened. “She’s had a hard time with it all, especially with her asthma and diabetes. There’s so much she can’t do and she has to be so careful not to overexert herself. Who can blame her for being a little difficult?”

“Difficult?” he choked. “She took Caillen’s last paycheck and blew it on a new dress and shoes.”

Shahara gaped. “Tell me she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did. I thought Caillen was going to kill her and I almost helped.”

Shahara rubbed her eyes as a dull pain started in her temples. Kasen would never grow up. And neither would Tessa. “I suppose it’s my fault. Tessa was only ten and Kasen eight when our father died. I was so afraid they’d be pushed to grow up too soon like I did that I overcompensated and allowed them to never take any responsibility at all.” She let out a tired breath.

He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “You should never apologize for loving someone too much.”

“No, but I fear I may have ruined their lives.”

“You shouldn’t take responsibility for their shortcomings. Those are their problems, not yours.”

Shahara offered him a timid smile, thinking about what he said. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time she stopped covering for them all the time and allowed them to fall once in awhile.

For several seconds, they sat quietly.

Until Vik raised up and took flight. He buzzed past them. “There are footsteps approaching and they’re headed straight for us.”





CHAPTER 11


“Footsteps?” Shahara repeated, grabbing his weapon from the ground and rising to her feet. “I thought you said no one ever came down here.”

Syn stood by her side as he took the weapon from her hand. “They don’t. Not without a good reason.”

“Like they’re chasing after two imbeciles who were dumb enough to stay put while they searched?” she whispered angrily.

“Sounds like a good reason to me.” His nonchalance was seriously pissing her off. “So I misjudged our safety. It’s not the first time I’ve made that mistake.”

“Now you tell me?”

“Shh,” he said, holding up his hand.

Out of the silence, a voice called out, “Syn, where are you? I have someone here who wants to speak with you.”

“Run, Sheridan!” Mother Anne screamed.

A myriad of emotions danced across his face, replacing his usual stoicism—concern, stunned disbelief, and finally he settled on rage. Shahara took a step back. Never in her life had she seen anyone so terrifying. This was the man her sheets had warned her about.

Deadly. Evil. Cold.

“Vik—” his tone was lethal. “Total dark. Now.”

Vik cut his light off.

“I can’t see,” she whispered.

“I can.”

She realized he’d left her. Holding her arms out in front of her, she felt her way along the walls, wishing her eyes would adjust to the darkness. It was like it engulfed her. Oppressed her.

The total sensory dep was disturbing as she strained to feel or experience something.

She couldn’t even hear Syn’s footsteps.

Suddenly she heard the man who’d spoken moving closer. His feet, along with the Mother’s, echoed off the marble walls so it sounded like an army was trampling through.

A light came closer.

Shahara dodged into an intersecting hallway and watched in awe as the number of the group grew . . .

And grew.

This wasn’t just a single pursuer. There were twelve of them. And Mother Anne wasn’t alone. Another priestess had been taken as well.

“Where the hell is he?” one of the men growled.

“Shh,” the one who’d spoken originally barked. “I don’t want him to know our numbers. Let him think I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Syn said out of the darkness. “But you will be.”

Instantly, one man went down, his neck twisting.

“Where is he?” the first man cried.

Four more fell.

“He’s everywhere!” another shouted.

Seeing her chance to join the fray, Shahara ran at the two holding the priestesses. She caught one in the windpipe a second before she kicked the other’s knee out.

“Run,” she told the priestesses. They quickly disappeared into the darkness while she swung around to deal with the next man near her.

“You bitch!” He aimed his weapon at her.

She knocked his arm aside and pulled out her dagger. Slicing his arm, she headbutted him, then kicked him down and turned to take on the next.

The four remaining men advanced on her.