Bound by Prophecy (Descendants Series) - By Melissa Wright Page 0,15

hand hard on her shoulder. I didn’t hear the door.

I slid carefully from beneath her, and then tight against the wall to see out the window. A tall, dark-skinned man in a business suit was crossing the lawn. He peered into the windows of the house next door, and then crossed the street to check there.

I watched him until he was three houses down. Emily moved silently beside me, her body flat against the wall in waiting.

“He’s looking for us,” I whispered, “but it seems pretty random. He’s undoubtedly swept the entire area.”

Emily leaned in front of me to peek out the space between the blind and the frame.

Her face was inches from mine when she whispered hopefully, “He left his car.”

I shook my head. “Right now, they don’t know we’re here. If we take the car, we’d be giving them a lead.”

She nodded, and the little sigh of breath she let go hit the skin of my neck.

I had to touch her again. My hand found her waist. “We need to let him get out of here, report back that he didn’t find any sign of us. And then we’ll go.”

“To Brianna?” she asked.

“To a safe house. Somewhere Morgan can’t find you and the others can protect you.” And I would have to leave her.

“Is that where Bri is?” she said. “I know you can’t tell me, but I mean, is that the kind of place she’s in?”

Against all reason, my head gave a small nod.

“Then why can’t we go there?” She leaned closer, her whispers taking on an edge of desperation. “If she’s safe there, then we’d be safe there.”

“No. I won’t risk it. Morgan is searching for us as we speak.”

“He’s searching for her, too,” she argued. “And if all he plans to do with me is use me against Brianna, then the best place for us to be is together. If he gets to her, then at least I’ll be with her.”

“I can’t take you to her.”

“But—”

I cut her off. “I will keep her from Morgan. I won’t risk him getting to her. There are things you don’t know, and you’re just going to have to trust me until I sort things out.”

She opened her mouth to protest and then suddenly stopped. I couldn’t tell whether she’d held back her retort, or simply realized she was nearly pressed up against me as we argued in undertones. She stepped back and leaned once more on the wall, staring across the room rapt in thought.

We were both silent as the man reappeared on the street and walked toward his car. The muffled thump of a car door, and then the engine turning over, and he was driving away. And I was alone with Emily again, with seventy miles of road between us and the safe house I wanted her in.

When dusk settled, I returned the blanket and now empty water jugs to the basement, and restored the key to its place beneath a landscaping rock. We walked through several backyards until we were forced to go street side. The first occupied house we came to had a boarded-up front window and a rust-orange clunker in the driveway that didn’t look as if it was likely to start.

We kept on a few more blocks, though I didn’t want to go too far, because every home we passed was a gamble of being spotted. Remembered. When we finally came to a nicer block house with a promising sedan in the drive, I pressed Emily to hide by the garage.

“If Morgan’s men come here, they’ll be more likely to ask whether the two of us were seen.”

She went along with the plan, but I didn’t think she trusted it.

I knocked on the door, a deep evergreen with white trim, and waited. A gold-plated mailbox hung loose on the red brick, its hinged door stuck partially open. Faded lava rock filled the otherwise empty flower beds. I could see the scuffed white toe of one of Emily’s sneakers peeking out from the corner of the house. Maybe she was scared. Or planned on listening…

“Yeah?” the old man croaked when he opened the door. He wore a robe over a stained white tank top and belted slacks.

I stared into his smoky gray eyes. “Ask me to come in,” I urged in a tone low enough not to carry.

He stared blankly for a moment, and then stepped back. “Come in, young man. Come in.”

Fifteen minutes later, Emily and I were driving a 1992 Pontiac