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It’s chaos beyond the upended garden tables. Bodies are strewn across the grass, some in black masks and tactical gear, others in bloodstained gowns.
Fiona Theron sticks out in the midst of the chaos, her bandana like a scrap of starlight. She stands, silent and stationary, her eyes wide with disbelief as she looks down at a limp body in the grass.
There’s a smear of blood across her face. She’s not even ducking for cover.
“Mom!” Taylor screams yet again. “Move!”
Fiona looks up toward the both of us. Even from here, I can see trauma in her eyes. The woman has stared death in the face, but there’s a difference between the death that steals you from your hospital room in the middle of the night and the kind that comes at you screaming from the barrel of a gun.
“Let me go!” Taylor screams. “I have to get to her. I have to save—”
Somehow, the ensuing gunshot feels louder than the rest.
We watch helplessly as it finds its home in Taylor’s mother’s chest.
Fiona’s eyes roll. Her legs buckle. Just as she crumbles to her knees on the grass, we see red blood blossom, soaking the front of her sky-blue dress into a gruesome navy.
“NO!” Taylor in a gut-wrenching scream that vibrates through my body. “Mom!Mom…”
She tries to wrest herself free from my grip again, but when I tighten my hold on her, she goes slack, like she can’t summon up enough strength to fight me anymore.
“Give her to me,” Mila says, appearing at my side with two of my men. “I’ll get her out of here.”
I catch sight of Dima in the distance, but I can’t see Celine or her father. Where are they? How many have died?How could I have let this happen?
“Ilarion!” Mila shouts, forcing me to look over. “Let go of her.”
I only realize then that I’m still gripping Taylor tightly. It takes more effort than it should to release her. One of my men comes forward and I pass her off reluctantly.
“Be careful with her,” I growl. “She is not to be harmed.”
The soldier nods grimly, then hoists a sobbing Taylor over his shoulder and follows Mila out the back entrance of the gardens.
I cross the lawn to where Dima is standing in the midst of the madness. He’s sweating and bloody but unharmed.
“Where’s Celine?” I rasp.
He drags his eyes up to mine. It looks like it costs him years of his life to do so. “I’m sorry, brother,” Dima croaks, the sweat and blood mingling into a red paste on his forehead. “They have her. The old man, too. They’re gone.”
19
TAYLOR
I can’t breathe. There’s an ache in my chest that feels like it’s going to bore a hole through me if I don’t stop.
Iftheydon’t stop.
I have no idea where we are, but it looks and feels like a tunnel. The walls are dark, the ceiling is low, and there are no windows anywhere in sight.
Which means I can’t hear anything but my own screaming. If there’s still gunfire outside, we’re completely cut off from it. It’s just the echoes of my own terror and my own frantic, stampeding heart.
“Let me down!” I wail, slamming my fists against the grim-faced man’s concrete back. “Let me down!”
I have no idea how, but I manage to hit him between the legs. I’m flailing around like a madwoman, and I guess my foot must have made contact with his balls, because the next thing I know, he’s dropped me unceremoniously to the ground.
I don’t give him time to recover; I just twist in the opposite direction and attempt to run back to the garden. I get about two steps before I’m met with the mouth of a gun.
That halts me in my tracks.
