and everything had changed.
And that was our one saving grace. No one knew but the three of us. No matter what happened, Morgan would not fulfill the prophecy. Even if he captured Brianna, if he tricked the Division into giving her up, if he used his sway against them, he would still have the wrong girl.
Emily was the chosen.
“You’re going to die, traitor-boy,” a voice hissed from beside me, “and your dragon blood can’t do a thing to stop it.”
I stared straight ahead, but I could see the man in question. He leaned back in his chair, thumb playing patiently over the hammer of his pistol where it lay on his leg. The barrel casually pointed in my direction, but there was no threat of him using it. It would be Morgan’s doing, not one of these men.
A low grumbling laugh followed, but William cut him off. “Silence.”
The laughter ceased, but the man’s mouth remained tweaked in a nasty grin.
It didn’t matter that the sway had turned them against me. I had betrayed them. I had left them to Morgan. Whatever happened now, I had destroyed the brotherhood. I had destroyed Council.
As I waited for Morgan to kill me, there was one comfort in which I found solace. He had taken everything from both sides of the battle, but he would never win.
Because he would never have the girl.
I must have stared at the door for hours. When it finally opened, it was Caleb who walked in. My strength was waning, though I knew the wounds were slowly being repaired. The need for sleep was crippling, but I managed to follow his movement across the room. He was giving direction to William. Something was ready, something about time…
“Caleb,” I said, my voice hoarse from exhaustion and disuse.
He didn’t respond when I called his name, simply finished his conversation with William. But when he turned to go, I caught a glimpse of his face. It was somehow vacant, lifeless, and I felt my heart sink at the memory of Brendan’s words so many hours ago. Morgan had used his sway. Noah was dead. Caleb had submitted.
But there was something wrong with the way Caleb had appeared. The sway on humans was nearly unrecognizable. I wondered if Morgan had destroyed some part of his brain. I wondered if this sway was different, stronger. I wondered if it had only been hours since that report landed in Brendan’s hands, or days—how long I had been hanging here. I wondered where Brianna and Emily were.
“Wake up!” William yelled as he slapped me across the face.
I jolted, opening eyes I’d been completely unaware had closed, and rasped, “I’m getting really tired of that.”
“Not me,” William answered in a low tone.
He jerked the ties at my arm, which wrenched my side and brought me back to life. Abruptly awake, I realized the other men had guns on me. And there were five of them now.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To witness your brother’s destiny,” he said. “Now, make one wrong move and you’ll get another bullet hole in your chest.” He pointedly jabbed a finger into the meat over my heart. “And this one won’t heal so easily.”
My arms fell from their bonds, for a moment numb and then suddenly stinging with sharp, needling pain. I rubbed my wrists, agony and relief warring at the act, while William unlatched the other restraints. When he released my waist, my knees gave, and I fell against a post of the structure they’d brought in to restrain me.
He threw a shirt at me. “Clean up. Morgan doesn’t want you looking like a vagrant.”
I glanced down, dried blood covering large portions of my torn jeans.
“Put the shirt on,” William demanded. “No one will see your legs anyway.”
My head jerked up to stare at him, but he was already walking toward the door. “Let’s go, Archer. We’ve got a prophecy to carry out.”
I slid one arm into the button-up shirt, but it took considerably more effort for the other arm. After fumbling with the middle three buttons, I gave up, leaving it loose at the neck and bottom hem.
“On your feet,” one of the gunmen said from beside me, and I pushed unsteadily off the post to be led from the room, a guard clutching each arm, two following behind, and another between us and William in the lead.
Morgan had never underestimated me.
Several minutes later, I was thrust into restraints and seated on the raised, dark-mahogany platform running the front wall