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Kit looked over. "Can he--?"
Chloe nodded.
"I'm not sure he should . . ." I began.
"I have to," Daniel said.
"It won't be far," Kit said as he hurried over to help Daniel.
"I've got him," Derek said. "You'll need to clear the way with spells."
"Liz says we're clear," Chloe said. "The parking lot's empty, but we should go out the back if we can."
"And fast," Corey said. "This guy over here's starting to stir."
We got into the bathroom. The window was big enough for Derek to get through, so we'd all make it. They broke the glass and cleared it. Chloe went out. Derek next, to help lower Daniel, but as soon as we tried to boost him up to the window, blood gushed from his wound.
"We have to go out the front," I said. "Everyone else can go out here. Derek? Can you help me take him?"
Derek nodded. "Dad? Take Chloe and Cor--"
Chloe cut him off, talking fast, "Liz said reinforcements just arrived. A big black SUV full of big guys in black suits. We need to go this way."
"I can do it," Daniel said. "Just hand me that towel. It'll stop the bleeding long enough . . ."
He trailed off as Kit edged past us, through the bathroom door, back into the bedroom. Derek strode after him. One of the guards was stirring. So was Dr. Inglis, groggily pushing her way up.
"Dad?"
Kit pulled back a corner of the drape. He peered out, then turned to us. "It's not reinforcements. Not theirs, anyway. Do you still want to cut a deal?" He looked at me. "I can get us out of here, then we can work on getting my children and your friends back. We can fight. Or we can follow the plan."
Fight or surrender. The answer seemed so obvious, didn't it? If we had an ounce of guts, of inner strength, of pride, we should go down fighting. Never stop. Never surrender.
Fighting could mean freedom. That had been our goal all along. For the Genesis kids, who'd taken down the Edison Group for their freedom. For us, who'd escaped a fire, helicopter crash, and kidnappings for our freedom. We'd lost friends for that freedom. Friends who were now waiting for us to come back and save them. How could we even consider giving up?
Because sometimes fighting wasn't the strong choice or the smart choice. It was just the stubborn, proud choice. We'd decided to negotiate. Just because we'd beaten Dr. Inglis and her goons didn't change the situation. Kit and his group had done a lot more than that, and they'd still admitted that it hadn't really gotten them anywhere, hadn't even gotten them freedom--just the illusion of it, hiding, terrified of capture, all the while being monitored by the St. Clouds.
Out in the world, we were mice, not just fleeing the cats on our tails, but hawks and owls and weasels and a host of other predators that were just waiting for the opportunity to swoop in and steal us. We weren't ready to fight back and we weren't ready to keep ourselves free and enjoy any kind of decent life. We needed to take what the Cabals offered, until they made us ready, in spite of themselves.
"Negotiate," I said.
The others agreed. Kit nodded and pulled open the door, said, "Sir," and stepped back.
The man didn't look like a "sir." He was probably in his late twenties. His blond hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. His brilliant blue eyes reminded me of Mattias Nast's but there was no chill in them, just calm. He was dressed in casual pants and a pullover. Guards flanked him, hulking guys bigger than Derek, both wearing shades.
Someone strolled past them. A familiar figure. Moreno, just sauntering in, smiling, as if quite pleased with himself.
"Looks like your timing was a little off," the young man said to Moreno.
Moreno shrugged. "Close enough. They handled it."
"Mr. Nast," Kit said to the young man, his chin dipping in a respectful nod.
"Sean, please," the young man murmured as he walked into the room, surveying everything. His gaze went straight to Daniel as Derek helped him back into the room. He spun to his guards. "Get a medic in here. Now."
Sean Nast. I remembered Antone had been told this would be the man in charge of the operation, not Mattias. Antone had wanted Sean.
"Sean," Dr. Inglis said as she pushed to her feet. "This isn't what it looks like."
