Winter (The Lunar Chronicles #4) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,115

a dozen men to do it. Every limb was held in place, his cheek pressed into the dust. The bodies of two guards and one miner lay not far away.

Aimery loomed above him, panting, his constant smile nowhere to be seen. He had one hand pressed over the wound in his leg. “The shots are coming from that factory. Send a team to search it, and bind these two before they try anything else.”

Cinder strained against the arms holding her. If she could raise her arm, take one clean shot—

Her arms were yanked behind her, her wrists bound. She screamed as her shoulder was pulled just shy of dislocation. She was hauled back to her feet, coughing on dust, her entire body throbbing.

She glanced around, searching for an ally, but only blank faces greeted her.

She sneered, defiant, as she and Wolf were forced to kneel in front of Aimery’s livid face. She was dizzy with her own hatred, but as her thoughts settled, she was hit with the full force of Wolf’s agony beside her.

He was in anguish, his emotions splintering, and Cinder remembered that the body of the miner beside him was his mother.

Cinder shuddered and had to look away. She spotted the red-coated thaumaturge she’d shot, not moving, and another in a black uniform also lying not far away.

That was all. Two thaumaturges and two guards killed, Aimery injured. That was all she had gotten from Maha’s sacrifice, and the brave deaths of two other innocent civilians.

Cinder was more angry than afraid, feeding on Wolf’s devastation and the horror of all the blank faces around her, all these people used like marionettes.

She believed what she’d said before. Levana could kill her, but Cinder had to believe her death wouldn’t be the end. This revolution no longer belonged to her.

Forty-One

“They’re coming,” said Scarlet, snarling as she backed away from the window. Her first shot had been low, hitting Aimery’s thigh when she’d been aiming for his head. Her second shot had hit the fountain, useless, before the crowd had been too thick to keep firing. She had heard at least three shots coming from Thorne but didn’t know if he’d had any more success.

Cinder and Wolf were like hogs in a slaughterhouse down there, and she and Thorne would be close behind if they didn’t get out, now.

Thorne grabbed the helmet he’d stolen from the guard and pulled it over his head, transforming from her friend to her enemy. She hoped the transformation was as convincing to the Lunars. “Give me your gun,” he said. She hesitated only briefly before handing it over. Thorne pocketed it and grabbed her elbow, dragging her toward the staircase.

They were on the first landing when footsteps stampeded through the bottom level.

“Found one!” Thorne yelled, making her jump. He held his gun to Scarlet’s head as he dragged her to the bottom of the stairs. Four guards surrounded them. “There were two gunmen. The other might have run, but check the top floors to be sure. I’ve got this one.”

Scarlet pretended to thrash against his hold as Thorne dragged her past the guards, oozing authority. The guards charged up the stairs. The second they were gone, Thorne swiveled around and released her. They ran for the back exit, dashing into the alley behind the factory.

Already the brawl was over, judging from the dreadful silence that filled the dome.

Thorne turned away from the factory, but Scarlet grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

He looked back, his gaze harsh, but maybe that was the effect of the face mask.

“We have to try to help them,” she said.

His brow wrinkled. “You saw how easily they took down Cinder and Wolf, and you think we can do something to help them?”

She didn’t. She honestly didn’t.

But if she didn’t even try …

“Give me my gun,” she said, holding out her hand.

Thorne stared at her.

“Give me my gun.”

With a huff, he pulled the gun from his waistband and shoved it into her palm. Scarlet spun away, not sure if he would follow. He did.

When they turned the first corner she could see the square. The citizens who had risen up to attack Cinder and Wolf were all kneeling again, placid, as if the fight hadn’t even happened.

Scarlet wondered how long it would take those guards to search the factory. She wondered if she was crazy not to turn and run.

The gun was warm in her hand, the handle leaving imprints in her skin. There had been a time when holding a weapon had