"Keira!"
"You fucking knew!" I scream, and before I can stop myself, I'm swinging.
My palm connects with his face, the sound sharp in the chamber. I slap his cheek so hard my hand stings.
His head snaps to the side, and he doesn't move, doesn't try to stop me.
"You let them take me," I say, my voice breaking. "What am I to you? Nothing?"
"Keira, listen to me. You don't understand," he says, controlling his rising anger.
"Understand what?" I step closer, my hands shaking, my vision blurring with tears. "That you gave me a bracelet to track me? That you allowed me to go to something where you knew they'd take me?"
I hold up my forearm, the blood still dripping, the M carved into my skin like a brand.
"You brought me to them so they could do this? Brand me?"
And even in my rage, the look that comes across Octavian's face when he sees me standing there bleeding is genuine sadness, but that doesn't change what he did to me.
"God, Keira, no. I never thought?—"
"Save it." I cut him off. "You did what you had to do, right? Mission accomplished. I'm not even sure why you bothered saving me."
Just as he's about to say something, shouting erupts from somewhere behind us.
"Fuck." Octavian's head snaps toward the sound, and his entire body shifts, coiling tight. "Reinforcements."
He then turns and looks at me. "We can talk about this later. We need to get out of here. Now."
I don't move.
"I'm not going anywhere with you." I cross my arms, ignoring the pain in my forearm. "How do I know you're not just leading me to the next setup?"
He looks at me, and for a split second, desperation tries to fight its way out of him.
Then the voices get louder.
Closer.
"Fine," he says, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to me. "Your brother is on standby. Call him. Tell him we're coming."
I stare at the phone, then at him.
I grab the phone just as bullets ping off the wall nearby. We both duck.
He grabs my hand. I want to yank away, but survival wins.
"Move!" he shouts.
We start running.
We jump over the bodies of the robed figures, past the altar still wet with my blood, and he leads me down some kind of tunnel.
Of course he'd know about this.
The thought makes me angry, but adrenaline forces me to focus on running.
Another bullet whizzes past, and I duck instinctively.
