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Chapter Twenty-seven
Challenge
In the end, it was all of us who ran to meet him. We could not stand to watch another soldier die, could not wait idly by as they slaughtered the lot of us. And so we stood, a room full of descendants of the seven lines, and faced Morgan.
“No more,” Brendan said, his words echoing off the walls of what was once a ballroom. “You’ve killed enough.”
Morgan smiled. “Oh, but I’m just getting started.” He raised a hand casually to the men on our right, though they’d followed Brendan’s command to lower their weapons.
“You’ve won, Morgan,” I said. “You’ve made your point.”
He turned to look at me, but the hand didn’t immediately drop. The expression on his face made it perfectly clear he was aware of his victory. “I’m not done yet, brother.”
His eyes fell to the men standing beyond his hand, and their rifles rose. Emily flinched beside me when the first shots fired, and I couldn’t help but to reach for her, press her slightly behind me. It was a mistake, and Morgan noticed. He waved a hand and the firing ceased. Seven more Division men lay bleeding on the polished wood floor. But they were not kill shots. Not yet.
Kara’s hand pressed to her stomach, several of the others looked as if they too might be sick. Morgan was going to drag this out, he was reveling in the power.
“My, my,” he crooned, “it seems you finally care about someone, brother.” His eyes trailed slowly over Emily before returning to mine. “Aside from yourself.” His grin turned feral. “It will definitely make things more interesting.”
My stomach plunged. He was going to hurt Emily. Because I’d touched her, tried to protect her, he would torture her. And he would be certain I stayed alive long enough to watch.
“I care about everyone here, Morgan.” It took every ounce of energy not to let my tone betray the anger and tension blistering through me. “As should you.”
He scoffed. “You are a fool.”
“Just like our father?” I said.
His eyes flashed with rage, but before he could act, he remembered himself, realized I was trying to distract him.
“Come, girl,” he said to Emily where she stood partially behind me. I couldn’t see her face, but by the expressions reflected on Morgan’s men, I knew she was anything but frightened.
Morgan snapped his fingers and the man to his left fired on a young boy behind us. He screamed out, the bullet having ripped through his thigh and knocked him off his feet. He wasn’t strong. It wouldn’t heal quickly enough.
Morgan’s eyes fell back, not to Emily’s, but mine.
Daring me.
He gave us two more seconds, and then snapped again. The report sounded, and even I almost started as it ripped through the shoulder of a man not three feet from us. Four seconds this time, and then the pistol swung to face Seth.
That broke her. An instant before Morgan’s finger fell against his palm, Emily stepped from behind me.
“No!” Brianna yelled.
My heart dropped. Morgan smiled, his gaze slowly moving to where Brianna stood, separate from the others. She’d been the only one safe. The only one he wouldn’t risk shooting.
He needed her.
“She’s immune to your sway,” Brianna said. “We both are.”
Emily’s hand shifted to her back, but I stilled it. This was no time to stab Morgan, not when he’d turned the whole of his army against us. At least she still had a chance. She, and Brianna, could live.
Brianna’s shoulders straightened, and her eyes roamed Morgan’s men. “You can’t make us bend to your will,” she said. “You’ve proven that.”
Morgan slipped a hand casually into the pocket of his slacks, as if her speech was no more than entertainment.
“If you kill another,” she said, “I will not go with you. Ever.” She stepped forward. “What you had in my mother will be lost to you. Again.”
At her final threat, he took pause.
