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Chapter Twenty-six
Resistance
“It’s time.”
The voice from the doorway came much too soon. The three of us had been waiting in one of the small sitting rooms, knowing what was coming. Knowing we had gotten lucky before. It wouldn’t happen again. This time, people would die.
And none of us were ready for that.
Brianna squeezed her sister’s hand, and then gave me a meaningful look before joining Seth at the door. “I’d like to see Brendan privately for a moment. Aern and Emily can meet us there.”
Seth’s gaze swept over us, but he didn’t argue with Brianna.
When they were gone, I stood and crossed to Emily where she sat perched on the edge of a low-backed chaise, pretending to study a painting. I held out a hand and she took it, silently standing to move into my embrace.
She slipped her arms around my back, and we stayed there, unspeaking, as I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
I wouldn’t let it be the last time.
“I’m not scared,” Emily whispered against my chest.
I leaned back, lifting her chin to face me.
“But I can’t shake this feeling,” she said. “The prophecy, we can’t trust it, can we?” She shifted, her hand coming to rest on my side. “Have we brought absolute conflict? Blood against blood? Or is there more? They were so wrong, about everything, Aern. It was all there, and they’d only misunderstood.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We’ve created the bond. We will find a way to get through this.”
“Will we?” she asked in a soft voice. “Because I don’t know anymore. What if we’ve mistaken it this time? The heir to the dragon’s name will rule with the union. They were wrong about which heir before—”
“No,” I said, cutting her off too abruptly, and she narrowed her gaze. If I had been sure, it wouldn’t have been so harsh.
“You heard Brianna,” she said. “Morgan can’t die. Not yet.” She glanced toward the doorway. “If he still has a part to play, Aern…”
“No,” I repeated. He would not have her. No matter what else happened, Morgan would not win.
Her breath came out heavily and she stared at me. Finally, she nodded, adopting my determination as she straightened to go.
“Wait,” I said, grabbing her arm to pull her to me. I studied her for a long minute, re-memorizing her features. And then I touched my lips against hers softly, lingering there to whisper her name. When I pulled away, her eyes remained closed, saving the moment, and then steeling herself for what was to come.
Brendan’s office had been transformed. Forty of Division’s men stood scattered around a control room of sorts, sleek, flatscreen monitors and communication equipment covering every flat surface near the back wall. A spiderweb of wires crisscrossed the desks and tables, historic furniture now overwrought with electronic technology. Cables vined up through the stand of an old-fashioned writing desk, supplying the computer systems Eric’s younger brother ran. Plush, burgundy carpet held the restless feet of cultivated soldiers, waiting for battle.
The chairs sat empty.
No one spoke; the time for words was over. There was nothing but the wait. And then it was gone.
“He’s here,” Brendan said from his place behind the display.
The room fell still.
“North wall. He’s using the main entrance.” He glanced at the other screens. “They haven’t split up. He’s bringing them all together.”
Beside me, I felt Brianna’s lack of surprise. I couldn’t look at her, though, because Emily was there, standing on her other side.
“Cue the gate current,” he said. “I don’t know what he’s got up his sleeve.”
The boy keyed in the command, sending high voltage through the secondary barriers near the gate, and we all watched as a dozen black town cars and sleek new SUVs pulled to a stop in front of the wall. The driver of the second car stepped out, opening the door behind him for Morgan.
He stood, elegant in black suit and tie, and straightened his jacket with a practiced shrug. His hands went to his wrist, adjusting his cuffs with an easy smile. Right into the camera.
