Page 776 of Coal Hearts

“What the fuck is going on?” he hissed. “How is this possible?”

I wanted so much to gloat in his face. To say this was planned. That I knew those involved and just how proud I was of my fellow jewels.

But...I didn’t know how this was possible either.

I’d assumed the jewels had been punished enough to erase the very notion of escape. No one ever looked at Peter and me at night. No whispers, no winks.

Nothing.

But somehow, war had been delivered with a single command from an unseen man in the shadows.

Had it been Ben or Stewart who fired first?

How many guns did they have now?

How many guards were on our side?

Huge spotlights clicked on from the walls, scanning the gardens with giant yellow pools of illumination. One caught us in its arc. A guard high above and silhouetted by the moon, shouted in his loudhailer, “Sir...is that you?”

Victor waved his left arm, grunting in pain. “Don’t shoot, you idiots! I’m coming to you.”

I didn’t know if they could hear him, but he threw himself into a lumbering jog, forcing me to crawl and trip beside him. He yanked out handfuls of my hair, sending gushes of pain through my already overloaded system.

Every hedgerow we passed, I tried to grab one. To break off a branch and hit him with it. To find a way to escape and get back to Henri. “Let me go!” I screamed.

He ignored me, running faster like the coward he was.

If he got me into the battlement’s protection, I’d never get free.

I’d be used as collateral again.

Henri would be shot.

“HELP!” I screeched as loud as I could. “Someone!”

“Quiet.” He shook me. “Do that again, and I’ll rip out your throat.”

I’d lived too long with his threats. I had a physical reaction to his command and swallowed hard in silence, but then...the old me came roaring back. That feral creature who’d been born in these very gardens in a thunderstorm and a treasure hunt.

And I snapped.

Instead of fighting his hold, I leapt on him.

I threw all my weight against his trim torso and managed to knock him to the ground. He went sprawling in the grass, grunting in agony as he landed on his shot shoulder.

For a second, I couldn’t believe my luck.

Then adrenaline poured like gasoline, igniting every ounce of rebellion.

Falling on him, I slapped and punched and kicked.

He cried out as I became an unhinged animal. I raked my nails over his face. I tried to knee him in the balls. I managed to punch a few soft places, but then he gathered a lifetime of cultivated power and threw me off him like I was a damn mosquito.

“ENOUGH!” Struggling to his feet, he loomed over me. “Fuck’s sake, do I have to do everything myself?” Grabbing me around my blood-slicked throat, he pushed his thumbs into my larynx. “I should’ve done this the very first night you arrived.” His eyes flashed with evil insanity. “Au revoir, little pain in my ass.”

I tried to scream. I kicked. I scratched.

No use.