Shifting Fate (15 page)

The man shifted, drawing his hand back from
me, creating more distance from what he clearly thought was
danger.

“
I see the world end,” I
told him. “All of it, in fire and heat and ash.” My eyes came up to
meet his, the promise of truth undeniable. “Morgan will bring this
future, Fisher. Morgan will be our undoing. Yours,” I whispered,
“and mine.”

His hands wrapped around the rim of the bowl,
ready to bolt from the room.

“
Wait,” I begged. “It
doesn’t have to be this way. There are things I can do, things
Morgan doesn’t want you to know I’m capable of.”

He hesitated, facing me without apprehension
for the first time, but with something else, something like
curiosity.

“
You know,” I said. “You’ve
seen it. You hear the rules. No one with me alone. No one else sees
me except you and the other. No one but Morgan.” I tilted my head,
gesturing toward my legs. “And he left the strongest part of me
free, Fisher. My legs are unbound, but my hands, my tiny, useless
hands, are strapped to the wall behind me.” I leaned my head toward
him, voice low. “You see it, Fisher. You know. I’m just a girl, a
hundred pounds of nothing, and he’s got me strapped here. So no one
can get to my hands.”

He leaned back, but it wasn’t fear on his
face. It was indecision. He was deciding whether to run.

“
That’s all I need, Fisher.
Get my hands free and I can show you why Morgan hides me, why it’s
so important I’m kept from everyone.”

“
Fisher!” a voice called
from outside the door, its echo muffled through heavy walls, and he
stood, knocking the basin in his haste to move clear of
me.

Water sloshed free of the bowl, running
toward me in a dirty rivulet as he leapt forward to sop the mess
with the damp cloth. His fingers were inches from mine, but he
didn’t touch me.

“
My hand,” I whispered, “my
hand.”

He looked up at me then, our eyes level,
close enough I could see the color in them, a lush green under dark
lashes, beautiful and unnatural. “I can’t,” he said, and I knew it
for the utter truth it was. Morgan had instructed him, given him
orders under sway. There would be no help from this man.

“
Gods save you,” I whispered
to his back, “because no one else can.”

I was wondering how long it would take—which
of the people I cared for Morgan would be dragging in to bind to
the wall across from me, and how he would torture them to get me to
obey—when the door came open again. It was different this time,
slow and deliberate, and I looked up, waiting for whatever new
horror the occurrence held. It was the dark-haired man, GQ.

He strolled forward, chin dropped as his eyes
focused on me as if I were a naughty child, an animal that needed
to be disciplined. As if he planned to enjoy it. Wiping his hands
on a towel, he crouched near my legs, daring me to use them. I had
to admit the urge was overwhelming, but there was something that
stopped me, some instinct to stay still.

“
Brianna,” he admonished,
tone low as he shook his head, “you should have known we’d be
watching you.”

I froze, not allowing my eyes to find the
corner of the room, knowing it was too dark there. I’d already
looked, there was nothing to be seen, nothing my eyes could detect.
He smiled, somehow knowing the thoughts that rushed through my
mind, and tilted his head toward the material hanging on the far
wall.

“
Doesn’t take much these
days,” he said casually. He tossed the cloth he’d been using aside,
dark material damp with something even darker, and tapped a finger
to the side of his nose. “Just keep that in mind, in the future.
Fisher was a good man, he’d have made a fine soldier.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my heart
dropped; the smile and the rag and the words all screaming that it
was too late, they’d reprimanded him. And when Morgan’s men were
reprimanded, they were no longer Morgan’s men. They were no longer
anything. I’d gotten him killed.

One side of GQ’s face rose when he saw
recognition in my expression. “I see we understand each other
now.”

“
Bring her some water,” he
called over his shoulder, and the second man disappeared through
the open door. GQ leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper, and
said, “Maybe Morgan isn’t the only one you should be worried about,
Miss Drake.”

My heart raced, his warning, his proximity
generating a push in me that wanted to tear free and fight. It was
too strong, too intense.

“
What are you?” I
hissed.

He smiled, moving to stand as the second man
returned. “Give her the whole bottle. She’s going to need her
strength.”

He stepped out the door, the mass of muffled
footsteps—a dozen or so men following him—fading as he disappeared
from sight. I didn’t drink until I was sure he was gone.

Fisher’s replacement didn’t give me a chance
to try and persuade him, simply grabbing the towel and empty water
bottle to disappear from the room the moment I was finished. I
breathed deep to the sound of the heavy metal door slamming shut
and leaned the inch or so my restraints gave me to the side. My hip
was better, the drug at least giving me the ability to sleep in a
situation I wouldn’t have been able to otherwise, and the swelling
on my mouth had gone down. But my shoulder still needed to heal
some, so I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about Morgan and
his plans for me or the others.

It was a long while before the vague feel of
a half-sleep dream came, the far off sounds of banging, shouting,
thunder. And then I jerked, torn back to consciousness by the sound
of rapid gunfire in the building outside my room. It grew louder,
coming from every direction, a ceaseless torrent of clatter. It
didn’t make sense. My mind was convinced that it was already too
late for all of us, that Aern and the Council were gone, and I had
to force myself to believe, to hope it was true.

That they were alive.

Boots slapping concrete echoed past my door,
Morgan’s men running, fighting. They would have a plan, wouldn’t
they? Some out to remove me from the property? My eyes found the
material hanging from the wall opposite me, where the guard had
indicated a camera. “I’m here,” I whispered to anyone but them.
“Here.”

Something slammed against the metal door,
sending a jolt through me. I pulled at the ties on my wrists, fresh
blood welling to run over the dry, caked mess they’d left of my
skin. The clang of bullet striking steel reverberated through the
room, and a shadow fell over the thin crack of light beneath the
door. A body slumped against it. One of Morgan’s? One of ours?

An unnatural shriek tore through the
building, some metal structure falling against pipe or wall. I
cringed, drawing my shoulders up short, unable to even cover my
ears. Dust fell from the brick above me, sprinkling onto the floor
and reminding me of the last attack. Explosions couldn’t follow,
not while I was locked here, strapped to a block wall. Light
flickered, the man blocking my door having vanished, and narrow
strips of black as boots moved in front of it. I held my breath,
praying it wasn’t Morgan, wasn’t one of his men. Suddenly, the door
was flung open, light spreading across the floor quicker than a
heartbeat to reveal my savior.

A gasp of air escaped my lungs, leaving me
breathless, unable to even speak his name. I’d thought he was gone,
I’d thought it was too late. Every part of me wanted to go to him,
to grab hold of this reality with all of my might, but I was bound,
tied to the wall and unable to do anything except stare.

“
Brianna,” he said, already
to me, his hands crushing the sides of my face, moving down my arms
as he verified I was unharmed. My chest heaved in a silent sob of
relief, finally able to capture a breath. It was him. It was
Logan.

He reached down to his leg where he knelt
beside me, grabbing a tool that would cut me free without taking
his eyes off mine. And then he stopped, his voice was deadly,
“Where is he?”

Morgan. Morgan wasn’t here.
Panicked, I said, “Emily. He’s going for her, Logan. He
knows
.”

He leaned forward, working to free my hands,
but I wanted him to understand, to realize what was happening.
“Logan,” I said again, “Morgan figured it out, he knows what she
can do.”

My hands came free, the sudden release
causing me to sag forward. My arms were numb, asleep, and I dragged
them forward as Logan released my waist. He was in front of me,
rubbing life back into my arms, purposefully not looking at the
wounds crossing my wrists, when he said, “I know.”

My mouth fell open, ready to argue that he
couldn’t possibly have understood, and his expression was so
relieved, so tortured, that I wavered. “Where is she?” I asked.

“
I’m not sure,” he answered.
“They were looking for you, we all were.” He straightened. “We need
to go, Brianna. Can you stand?”

I nodded, not entirely positive I could given
the pins and needles running through my arms, but my legs had been
free. Surely they could get me to safety. “Where are we?” I
whispered, listening for the sounds of fighting outside, though
they seemed to have faded.

He took my arm, helping me to my feet, and
said, “About an hour south of Stanton.”

It wasn’t what I expected. My brows drew
together. “How did you know where to find me?”

“
I didn’t,” he answered, a
trace of fatigue showing on his face. “That’s what took so long.
We’ve been to every property listed on the Council
registers.”

It was an apology, and it tore through
me.

“
Logan,” I
started.

“
We have to go,” he reminded
me, cutting off any chance of argument when he called to his team
outside the door.

Chapter Seventeen

The Key

Our escape was a blur. Logan’s team had
rushed us from the building so quickly, so expertly, that I hadn’t
even had time to process it. They’d found Aern—reached him via
cellphone where he’d been fighting with a small band of Morgan’s
men—and he and Emily were unharmed, heading for the Council
buildings to meet us. Logan had me wrapped in a blanket, pulled
tight against him as we rode in the back of a large SUV. Neither of
us cared that two of his men were in the seats ahead of us.

He squeezed my fingers in his, stroking the
back of my hand with a thumb, his other arm around me. My palm was
filthy, covered in dirt and rust-colored blood, but I wasn’t about
to take it out of his hand. Raw, red lines marked my wrists, skin
torn in bloody bands through the tattoos that marked me chosen.
Unable to look at it, my gaze trailed over Logan’s strong hands,
smudged and dirty in their own right. And then I realized it was
his own blood.

“
Logan,” I breathed, sitting
up to face him, “you’re hurt.”

He shook his head, trying to pull me back to
him, but I saw his face then, the scratches, the thin line of a cut
running into the collar of his shirt. My stomach turned at the
sight of it, but not because it was life-threatening. Because all
this time, all the hours we’d spent together, I’d not protected
him. My eyes found the scar at his temple, the faint line
disappearing into his hair I’d noticed days ago, and I winced,
brushing a finger over the wound with the barest of touch.

He saw the pain in my face and took my hand
in his. “Brianna, I’m fine.”

“
No,” I whispered. “Logan,
I’m so sorry.”

I laid eyes on the wound on his neck and he
knew my intention. He placed his palm against my cheek, turning my
gaze to face him. “I’m fine, Brianna. Save your strength.”

My chest squeezed at his words, his touch. It
was as if I’d forgotten to help him, to let him heal faster the way
I’d done with the others. I knew why. I’d been afraid to truly be
with him, to connect with him. Because he’d been the one in the
vision. My one. He pulled me back down to hold me, and I allowed
it, but I wouldn’t save my strength for something else, I wouldn’t
risk him again. I laid my palm against his, searching for the
connections to repair Logan’s power. It was the one thing I could
give him.

Because of what I was.

If he noticed the tingle or the warmth in his
palm, he didn’t mention it, but the change had definitely taken
effect, because by the time we reached the Council buildings, both
of us were completely asleep.

“
Brianna,” Emily yelled from
the open door of the SUV. I jolted and Logan tensed beneath me.
Emily held a hand to her chest. “What is it with you
people?”

A half-laugh escaped as I moved for her,
hating that we’d scared her by looking so motionless, but
deliriously happy to see her safe. I stumbled out of the vehicle,
Emily, Logan, and two guards all reaching to steady me, and wrapped
her in a hug. It was more than being glad we were okay. It was the
letter.

Emily had read it, too; I could see it in her
eyes, feel it in her grip. She had known that other language and
Logan would have given her the only clue, the pages I’d left in his
room when I went missing.

I pulled back, staring into her eyes, willing
her to be okay, and she said, “Well, it’s good to finally
know.”

I smiled. She hated being made to find the
good in every situation. “Yes, there’s that,” I said.

Logan took my elbow. “Let’s get you
inside.”

They escorted me to a room, where food and
water, a clean wardrobe, and anything they could think of that I’d
possibly need waited for me. However, there was one thing missing.
I turned to Emily. “Is Aern hurt?”