“The world has cracked open. Opportunity is everywhere—diamonds lying abandoned in the streets. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together is vying for their piece of the pie. It’s a fascinating time to be alive, isn’t it?”
Liam didn’t answer. The General could be lying through his teeth. Or he could be speaking the absolute truth. It didn’t change their situation.
Fury thrummed through every cell of his body. He imagined all the ways he could kill this man.
He only needed his hands free. He only needed a few precious seconds.
The General steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “All that aside, it doesn’t matter what happens here in this inconsequential little town in this insignificant corner of a trivial state. No one cares. I should say, no one cares right now. In the future, they will. We tear down to rebuild something better and stronger. No one will remember what came before.”
Liam shook his head. Agony spiked through his skull. He tasted coppery blood on his tongue. “This place matters. What happens here matters.”
“When I report tomorrow to the Secretary of Defense that Michigan is in hand and under control, he won’t ask questions. He doesn’t have the time. I could murder all of you, and it wouldn’t matter one little iota.”
The General’s eye twitched. A tightness to his mouth. It was a lie—or a partial lie.
There was still a government operating, however dysfunctional and crippled. There were still rules of operation and lines that a government official could not cross without consequences.
“I doubt that.”
The General sat back with a satisfied smirk. “I’ve just received word that Alexander Poe and his Syndicate army have breached Michigan’s border. They’re swarming across the state line now.”
Liam’s heart stopped. “No.”
“At first, I admit I was quite vexed. However, I’ve reconsidered my position. The Syndicate will attack from the south. We will come from the north and kill two birds with one stone. In the end, who’s to say who killed who?”
His smile took on a ghastly tinge. “What a tragedy it will be. Don’t worry. We will avenge your deaths. We will retaliate with the full might of the Michigan National Guard. Maybe we’ll even immortalize you as tragic victims. That’s the wonderful thing about history. It can be revised with a simple swipe of a pen.”
“You will be held accountable for every evil that you’ve committed.” Liam thought of Bishop. “In this world or the next.”
“Ah, the archaic concept of justice. Of honor, truth, right and wrong.” The General shook his head with an air of annoyance. “It’s tedious. It’s asinine. What matters is power. What matters is who sits on the throne, and who tells the best story. What people believe. Not the truth, but what they’re told. That’s it.”
“You’re wrong.”
The General leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, his head tilted, a hard curious look in his eyes. “Why do you keep fighting? Why do you struggle against impossible odds? It’s pointless.”
“We fight because we have to.”
The General’s gaze hardened. “I’ve known men like you. You have a hard-on for glory, is that it? You believe valor matters. That an honorable death means something. Let me tell you something, soldier to soldier. It doesn’t. It never has.”
Liam squared his shoulders. “I say it does.”
A small man scurried into the room, squeezing between the huge bodyguards. “Um, sir? A quick word.”
His eyes were red-rimmed and wet. His head bobbed, his nervous gaze skimming Liam’s battered form and skittering away.
The General gave an irritated grunt. “As always, your timing is impeccable.”
“General, Lauren Eubanks is on the line, sir.”
The General waved a dismissive hand. “I have no interest in answering.”
“She says it’s urgent. Claims she’s the new governor. Something about Governor Duffield perishing of a heart attack, sir.”
The General hesitated, as if mulling the potential repercussions of ignoring a governor, particularly a new one. “Fine. Let me take care of this. Gibbs, are we ready to attack?”
“The men are ready. There are just a few logistic concerns for you to sign off on.”
The General stood heavily. His knees cracked. He covered up a grimace with a sneer as he turned to Gibbs. “Soften him up. But keep him alive. I’m not finished with him yet.”
The General swept from the room.
Four of the mercenaries closed in, led by Gibbs. Big men, ropy with muscles. Men skilled at winning fights, at breaking bones, at smashing the human body into a bloody pulp.
They were also killers.
Liam braced himself for what was to come.
Gibbs cracked his knuckles and flashed a flat, vicious smile. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were dead.”
60
Hannah
Day One Hundred and Fifteen
“Sound the alarm!” Hannah said.
“I’ll do it!” Quinn volunteered.
“Go with her,” Bishop told Jonas. “Then meet us at the south blockade.”
“Everyone to their positions,” Reynoso ordered.
In her haste, Quinn knocked over a metal folding chair as she raced for the exit, Jonas at her side. Everyone was on their feet, reaching for weapons and heading for the front doors.
“Quinn!” Hannah called after her, her throat tight.
For an instant, Quinn paused and looked back.
Affection swelled in her chest for this fierce girl. She wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a woman. A fighter. Her AR-15 slung across her torso, pistol strapped to her side, her expression tough and determined.
Hannah said, “I’m proud of you.”
A flurry of emotions crossed Quinn’s face. She raised her chin and flashed a strained smile.
Then Jonas grabbed her arm, and they sprinted for the double doors, off to do their part to save Fall Creek.
It felt like trying to save the whole damn world. Like trying to hold back the raging sea with a flimsy fishing net.
Reynoso’s radio crackled. “Alpha Two, this is Echo Two.” One of the scouts—Mara Wright. “Bravo One couldn’t reach you. She had to bike three miles before I was in range.”