“Just wanted to make sure we understood I was serious,” Morgan said coolly. He clapped his hands together. “Now, about this trade.” His eyes met Aern’s, waiting for some rebuttal, waiting to play this game. Aern only stared at him, unflinching. They were a contrast, Aern in boots and jeans, Morgan suit and tie. Everything about them was different, as if manufactured so, and Morgan was darker, from the black of his hair to the heel of his custom leather shoes.
Morgan shook his head, slid a hand slowly into the pocket of his slacks. “Let me make this clear,” he said. “You,” he pointed at Aern, “are going to die.” My hand fell free of Emily’s; it was happening too fast, I had to do something to stop it, change it. Morgan’s gaze crossed our group, coming to rest on my sister and me. “And the two of you are coming with me.”
Aern realized it, too. He knew that Morgan was too angry, his game proceeding too fast. He spoke, trying to delay him, mocking his tone. “Trade? Truly, brother, you can do better than that.”
Morgan’s smile returned, but it wasn’t the same pleasure it normally held when the room’s fate rested in his hands. It was more a baring of teeth, a predator’s warning. “It’s nice to see you still have faith in me, brother.” This time the word was not a title. It was an insult, a threat.
Flashes were hitting me, throwing my attention to chaos. It was coming. Morgan was about to cut down our men, litter the floor with bodies, with blood. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, drawing in. I’d done too much, fixed too many connections outside myself without rest to keep working. I had to do something different, something to slow him down.
I had to keep this path from playing out.
I fused another strand, joined another network inside myself, and something clicked in place. My hand pressed to my chest as I pulled in a deep breath.
“Brianna,” Morgan whispered, his quiet words cutting through the crowded room. My eyes opened, head tilting to look at him from beneath my brow. “None of that,” he murmured, warning me with a glance at Emily. I took her hand.
There was movement behind me, a small shift, and I realized Wesley had taken his place there. To guard us. But if Morgan saw him, he wouldn’t attempt sway. He’d simply order the boy shot. Morgan had been trained to lead an army, and he learned from his mistakes. He didn’t make the same one twice.
Aern’s shoulders rose in a calm breath and he took a step forward. He couldn’t let Morgan touch him, not again, but he was determined to give us the time we needed. Emily tensed, and I held fast to her hand, forcing her to remember what we were doing, to stay with me. It was her reaction again, that tug she’d felt when Aern was in danger that did it, that showed me the thread.
Morgan laughed, apparently amused at Aern’s stand against him, but their words were lost to me, because I had found the line we needed. There was more talk, a shuffling behind us, and Emily’s fingers twisted. Something was happening, she was trying to pull free, but I squeezed hard, crushing her hand in mine. “One minute,” I breathed, “one minute.”
There was a shattering of glass, another body falling, and time froze as I drew the ends together. I opened my eyes to find her. She glanced at me, unsure, and then the missing link was there, tied securely in that network of fibers, telling her what she could do. Suddenly, she was alive, eyes lit with shock, and something else, something foreign.
“No,” she roared, turning toward the others, and I came back to the scene, realized that Morgan had been ordering his men to fire, dropping Council and Division guards for sport as Aern watched, helpless. He was moving for Morgan, going in for attack, and Emily’s words were the only thing that brought him pause, caused both him and Morgan both to hesitate.
She stepped forward, suddenly too brave, and I caught her arm. Her eyes didn’t meet mine, but I could feel the tremor running through her. She needed to touch him, to lay hands on Morgan, and that was going to be impossible from where we were standing. Images flashed through my mind again, too many scenarios, all of them wrong. She needed a distraction, some way to reach him without coming to harm.
He knew what she could do. He would kill her.
My gaze flicked to Logan and he understood, saw what we had to have. When he moved my stomach twisted, a thrill of terror flooding through me. This was a mistake, it wouldn’t work. Logan threw his pistol down, striding toward the waiting group with a purpose that left none of them in doubt. For half an instant, I thought Morgan would simply order him shot, and I hoped it hit somewhere safe, somewhere he could recover. Instead, a bitter laugh rose through the room and Morgan said, “Ah, the traitor wants in the game.” His gaze met Aern’s, a depth of resentment and hatred I couldn’t fathom, and I suddenly remembered Logan’s place. He’d been meant to be Morgan’s protector, but he was Aern’s lifelong friend, most trusted ally. “Let’s make this slow,” he said, and it was another promise, this time for Aern.