He stepped out the door, the mass of muffled footsteps—a dozen or so men following him—fading as he disappeared from sight. I didn’t drink until I was sure he was gone.
Fisher’s replacement didn’t give me a chance to try and persuade him, simply grabbing the towel and empty water bottle to disappear from the room the moment I was finished. I breathed deep to the sound of the heavy metal door slamming shut and leaned the inch or so my restraints gave me to the side. My hip was better, the drug at least giving me the ability to sleep in a situation I wouldn’t have been able to otherwise, and the swelling on my mouth had gone down. But my shoulder still needed to heal some, so I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about Morgan and his plans for me or the others.
It was a long while before the vague feel of a half-sleep dream came, the far off sounds of banging, shouting, thunder. And then I jerked, torn back to consciousness by the sound of rapid gunfire in the building outside my room. It grew louder, coming from every direction, a ceaseless torrent of clatter. It didn’t make sense. My mind was convinced that it was already too late for all of us, that Aern and the Council were gone, and I had to force myself to believe, to hope it was true.
That they were alive.
Boots slapping concrete echoed past my door, Morgan’s men running, fighting. They would have a plan, wouldn’t they? Some out to remove me from the property? My eyes found the material hanging from the wall opposite me, where the guard had indicated a camera. “I’m here,” I whispered to anyone but them. “Here.”
Something slammed against the metal door, sending a jolt through me. I pulled at the ties on my wrists, fresh blood welling to run over the dry, caked mess they’d left of my skin. The clang of bullet striking steel reverberated through the room, and a shadow fell over the thin crack of light beneath the door. A body slumped against it. One of Morgan’s? One of ours?
An unnatural shriek tore through the building, some metal structure falling against pipe or wall. I cringed, drawing my shoulders up short, unable to even cover my ears. Dust fell from the brick above me, sprinkling onto the floor and reminding me of the last attack. Explosions couldn’t follow, not while I was locked here, strapped to a block wall. Light flickered, the man blocking my door having vanished, and narrow strips of black as boots moved in front of it. I held my breath, praying it wasn’t Morgan, wasn’t one of his men. Suddenly, the door was flung open, light spreading across the floor quicker than a heartbeat to reveal my savior.
A gasp of air escaped my lungs, leaving me breathless, unable to even speak his name. I’d thought he was gone, I’d thought it was too late. Every part of me wanted to go to him, to grab hold of this reality with all of my might, but I was bound, tied to the wall and unable to do anything except stare.
“Brianna,” he said, already to me, his hands crushing the sides of my face, moving down my arms as he verified I was unharmed. My chest heaved in a silent sob of relief, finally able to capture a breath. It was him. It was Logan.
He reached down to his leg where he knelt beside me, grabbing a tool that would cut me free without taking his eyes off mine. And then he stopped, his voice was deadly, “Where is he?”
Morgan. Morgan wasn’t here. Panicked, I said, “Emily. He’s going for her, Logan. He knows.”
He leaned forward, working to free my hands, but I wanted him to understand, to realize what was happening. “Logan,” I said again, “Morgan figured it out, he knows what she can do.”
My hands came free, the sudden release causing me to sag forward. My arms were numb, asleep, and I dragged them forward as Logan released my waist. He was in front of me, rubbing life back into my arms, purposefully not looking at the wounds crossing my wrists, when he said, “I know.”
My mouth fell open, ready to argue that he couldn’t possibly have understood, and his expression was so relieved, so tortured, that I wavered. “Where is she?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he answered. “They were looking for you, we all were.” He straightened. “We need to go, Brianna. Can you stand?”
I nodded, not entirely positive I could given the pins and needles running through my arms, but my legs had been free. Surely they could get me to safety. “Where are we?” I whispered, listening for the sounds of fighting outside, though they seemed to have faded.
He took my arm, helping me to my feet, and said, “About an hour south of Stanton.”
It wasn’t what I expected. My brows drew together. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t,” he answered, a trace of fatigue showing on his face. “That’s what took so long. We’ve been to every property listed on the Council registers.”
It was an apology, and it tore through me.
“Logan,” I started.
“We have to go,” he reminded me, cutting off any chance of argument when he called to his team outside the door.
Chapter Seventeen
The Key