Bound by Prophecy (Descendants Series) - By Melissa Wright Page 0,27

of cottonwood leaves. The path turned over a low bridge and two geese drifted slowly beneath us. It was all wrong.

Emily walked beside me, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, eyes pinched at the corners. Clearly, she wasn’t feeling the peaceful atmosphere, either.

We came out of the park on the south side of Grant Street. The sidewalk was lined with vendors setting up for the afternoon rush. It was here that I rented the scooter.

“No,” Emily said as I passed her the half helmet and goggles.

“They’ll help disguise you.”

“Not that.” She shoved the proffered helmet aside and pointed at the scooter. “That.”

I shook my head and threw a leg over the tiny red machine. “Women.”

“What—” she stammered. “Did you just—”

I smiled.

She narrowed her eyes and yanked the helmet out of my hands. I had to look away when she shoved it down over all that hair and her vicious glare disappeared behind dark goggles. She muttered something nasty when she wrapped her arms around my chest and realized I was laughing, but I couldn’t hear it over the tinny rev of the engine as we sped away.

Normally, a moped was not an ideal getaway car. But as we slipped quickly between traffic and down alleys, I was sure even Emily had forgiven the unusual selection. There was a festival on Sixth and Market Street, and the area was crowded with pedestrians. I felt Emily’s grip tighten on my chest, and took us two blocks south before heading back toward our destination. We walked the final three blocks to the Carlson hotel after leaving the scooter leaned against a café railing.

At the Carlson, we entered through the parking garage to walk out the front doors of the hotel as guests. We didn’t look the part, but no one argued as we slid into one of the waiting town cars.

“Fordham Heights,” I instructed the driver, not missing the sidelong glance Emily gave me. She must know the place, and there was no question she was surprised at the direction our journey was headed. I figured it best to get it all out of the way now.

“Aside from our discussion earlier,” I asked, “what do you know of our friends?”

She stared at me blankly for a moment, and then swallowed. “Not much.”

I nodded. “One more thing you should know, that you should expect, is that they’ve been very successful.”

“You mean…”

“Their special insight into the business world, their relationship with powerful people, it has allowed them to garner ample property, funds, and the like.”

She quirked one brow at my talking in code, but it fell when she realized what I was telling her. The Division used their sway to cheat and steal their way to riches. And then she glanced at my days-old shirt, still no worse for wear, the cut of my jeans.

“It’s another value we don’t share,” I said. “I earn what I have.” Aside from the last few days, I thought. But Morgan hadn’t given me much choice.

“I didn’t…”

I waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I just want you to understand. To know what to expect. The rest of us don’t use our advantage for arrangements, we’re honest businessmen.”

“All of you?” Emily whispered.

I sighed. “We were. It seems both sides are now led by the selfish, their greed and want for power.” I spun the ring on my middle finger. “Morals are not a tool for war.”

Emily smiled. It was just the tiniest rise of her lips and it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it was a smile. “You sound like my sensei,” she said.

The driver dropped us at Fordham Heights and we walked toward the train station. Emily questioned my methods, but realized quickly that any pursuers would be easier to spot if they’d managed to follow us through so many different routes.

“Council trained us how to respond,” I said. “All of us. And so we can’t use those techniques. We have to decide on the spur of the moment, be as unpredictable as possible.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just anxious to see Brianna.” She glanced down the stairwell. “And I hate trains.”

I smiled. “Me too, but that’s not where we’re headed.”

There wasn’t much else around Fordham, no taxis, no bike rentals. She looked up at me, brows raised. “It’s not?”

I spun her toward the street, where a black limousine waited curbside. “Nope.” And then I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “And it’s bulletproof. Like a tank.”

She smiled, and this time it was for