“Westlake,” Kara said, her tone even and filled with fire.
Logan’s jaw flexed. A moment later he winced, reaching up to pull the device free of his ear and crush it in his fist. His gaze met Aern’s. It was over. That fast.
Brendan.
“Archer, front gate,” one of the Council guards shouted, and the crowd was suddenly back, fully alert and aware of this. Of what was had to be dealt with now.
I wondered at the use of Morgan’s last name, when he had become a faceless enemy. These men had been raised with him, led to be loyal, faithful to Morgan. But Morgan wasn’t that boy anymore. He was something else.
“Three minutes,” another voice called. The seconds ticked by.
Would he turn the others, collect more men as they went? Or would he save his strength, somehow knowing this was going to be the battle that counted.
I pulled my hand from Emily’s, whispered, “Stop sweating.”
She smirked as I wiped it on my jeans. “It’s you.”
I tightened my grip on her, tried again. Aern stood slightly in front of her, ahead of us all, his eyes only on the door. He owed Morgan, and I could feel how ready he was to have this done, to make things right.
And then it was there, the steady click, click, click of the waiting guards, their weapons dropping to the ready.
Chapter Twenty-one
Morgan
The sound hit first; the echo of steps, too many treads on the ancient wood floor, the muffled shouts of their men ordering Council guards down, the swish of fabric as the scouts rushed the hall. Our hall. It rose up, marching high into the vaulted ceiling as an orderly mass filled the room. There was a throng of them, too many, and more waiting outside.
It was an army.
We scanned the crowd, waiting, but I could see no one I recognized, not the dark-haired man my visions had been warning me of. Not GQ. He’d led the other attack, then. The one on Westlake. My eyes fell to the front line; uniformed men, dark weapons in hand, waiting. They could have taken us right there, opened fire to begin a bloodbath on both sides, no one left standing. But they wouldn’t. They couldn’t fire without the order, and Morgan didn’t operate that way.
He liked the theatrics of it.
Emily’s fingers tightened in mine as the sea of men began to shift, parting near the center where three feet of space was visible on either side of Morgan’s approach. He didn’t want to be touched.
My gaze slid to Eric, his fingers trembling over his gun, and I knew it took everything he had not to defy orders. One shot, and Morgan would be gone. But it would have to be the perfect shot, because he could heal, and because of the sway. And Eric would never take it. Because the prophet had instructed him not to. Because the visions had said we needed him.
He took a deep breath, glanced at me. I nodded, assuring him the decision was right, and he looked back to the entrance.
“That’s close enough,” Aern warned.
Morgan smiled, certain of his victory, and said, “Brother.” His gaze raked the group, grin turning feral when he saw me with Emily, hands clasped. His smile was a promise of what was to come. He was going to take us alive. Our eyes connected, the pledge meant especially for me. This was a game for him, and he didn’t like losing, didn’t like that I’d escaped. A chill ran over my spine and I searched frantically for the link in my sister through the contact of our hands. I was too fuzzy, muddled from my earlier work. I’d needed rest.
He held out a hand casually, pointed finger running down our line, and stopped on one of the Division soldiers. It was one of his, one that had defected to join with Brendan the year before. Morgan closed one eye, not quite a wink, and the man raised his gun, shot himself beneath the chin.
The sound echoed through the silent room, a shock of noise and the crashing realization of what was happening. I could feel it through the crowd; the tension, the strain. It was all they could do to stay still, to not fight. Two soldiers knelt beside his crumpled body, though there was nothing to be done. Morgan had made certain it was a kill shot, something he’d probably learned from his incident with Aern. Learned because he’d failed, because I was still alive.