Brianna opened her eyes, knowing her body would respond if she asked it to stand, but she did not make the command. She stayed still, staring at the shadow who moved toward her in a prowl, his eyes black pools beneath a set brow. He had plans for her. Still. Brianna let out a breath, a final, relief-filled sigh at the sight of him, so determined and focused on her. He never even saw her sister as she reached up, grasping the bare forearm that had only moments ago been exposed when his cuffs were ripped free.
She might have smiled at him, given him that one small thrill of terror that he’d seemed so fond of when torturing Ellin. But she didn’t, because she’d seen Morgan and she understood what Emily was about to do.
He felt Emily’s touch the same moment a burst of red exploded on the collar of his crisp white shirt. Brianna knew this because somehow, through everything that had happened, he still held that link to her. She knew that he’d not expected the sniper fire, that he’d never really considered her a threat. She knew that he trusted his sway to handle any of the Seven who attempted to help her, and she knew that he’d never expected either her or Emily to show up at this property.
But what she didn’t know, what she hadn’t felt until that very moment, was his fear.
And it was not what she’d expected.
“Emily!” she screamed, scrabbling to her knees, groping for purchase on the dark-haired man or her sister. “Emily!”
Emily was so intent on her task, wincing and straining and twisted around him, that she didn’t realize it wasn’t simply a warning to hurry. “Almost,” she promised, “one more second…”
A hand was suddenly under Brianna’s arm, bringing her to her feet, soldiers rushing toward Emily and the shadow, the Seven who had been hiding, slowly working closer to save them without risk of sway. She stumbled, fighting against the arms urging her to stand so they might run back to the waiting vans, and she screamed it again.
Emily looked up, this time hearing the fear in her sister’s voice. But it was too late. Brianna felt the rush of power as it came back to her, the sudden, overwhelming feel of everything. It was the way she’d felt it on the Council lawn, when everything had changed. And she understood it now, recognized that he’d truly saved her that day. In that one brief moment he’d given up his control on her, he’d let it slip so that she could live. But she wasn’t safe anymore.
They were watching her.
Emily dropped her hold on the dark-haired man, who was marked in several places with the blood of armor-piercing rounds. The soldiers stilled, Aern and Logan and a half-dozen men of the Seven Lines. She didn’t speak, but Emily’s expression was clear. What is it?
A wave of darkness swam over Brianna and she fought to focus. But it was Callan who spoke. A wet, rattling gurgle as he pressed his free hand against the wound in his neck. “You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have come.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Callan
A wave of vertigo hit Brianna as her power returned, the swarm of visions bringing her to her knees where she heaved helplessly into the fall of leaves below. He’d lost his connection to her, lost every chance at defeating the shadows on his own. The prophets were free now, and though they might not have been as strong as Brianna, they would see. They would see and they would tell the ancients who ruled them.
The other future would come to pass.
And any moment the guards would know where to find them. Callan had lost, but that didn’t mean he had to let the ancients win. He drew a choking breath, struggling to say, “Run.”
The crowd had fallen still as Brianna grappled with the visions. He was sure even the weakest of the Seven could feel the power radiate from her, but the only thing crossing his skin was a numb chill. He was empty. The Archer boy stared down at him and Callan pressed his hand harder to the wound as he said, “They will find you, there’s no stopping that now. But at least you can force their hand.” He gestured toward the back of the property, a security fence beyond the trees that led to the old storehouse. If the guards found them there, they would only try to pin them down until the ancients arrived. “You have less than two minutes.”
He was surprised to feel the warmth of blood slide across his palm, another wound from the spray of bullets that had also pierced his neck and chest. Aern nodded, reaching past him to take Emily’s good arm and pull her to standing. Callan knew it was the last thanks he would get. It wasn’t the sound of approaching guards he was thinking of when he watched them run away, but the ancients. He drew another breath, coughing fresh blood into his mouth, and dragged himself the last few feet to the nearest tree. He wanted be sitting up when he saw them, when they finally realized the truth. He wanted to face them. It was not so they would think him brave or strong.
It was so they could see his smile.
Chapter Thirty-two
Brianna