The crowd behind me swelled forward, unable to stay, to leave the gap that would keep them safe, and Morgan gestured toward three of his men. “Teach the treacherous dog a lesson.”
Emily moved and I moved with her, but Morgan’s gaze flicked to us, a dare. He had Logan and Aern, and he had guns on every single man in this room. I had given them an advantage, they could heal faster than most, but Morgan still had the upper hand, and losing this battle would not be the end of the game.
The three soldiers rushed Logan and he swung first, a powerful uppercut that knocked the closest man back a few steps. The second punched him in the ribs as the third dodged a cross, and Logan ducked, taking the smallest man in the side to throw him toward the crowd. They stumbled back, and he was suddenly one step closer to Morgan.
He was good.
I felt Emily beside me, holding her breath, both of us willing it to work, for Morgan to shift free of the group, to move out where she could find him. But he wasn’t a fool. He held the power, could sway anyone one he touched. Anyone but us.
And Emily was the danger.
Morgan tapped a finger to his lips, speculating. “No,” he mused, “I don’t think I like this.” He glanced at his watch, back at the men. “I’ve really got things to do.” Logan took one more swing, knocking the last man down, and was another step closer to the crowd. His nose ran blood, but it wasn’t deep and the wound had already begun to heal. His chest rose and fell with a composure I didn’t feel, but his gaze met Morgan’s with the next words.
“You know what might be fun,” Morgan said, the tapping finger suddenly gesturing between Aern and Logan. He smiled, eyes connecting with Aern’s. “A much more pleasurable way to watch you die.
“Bring him,” Morgan said, ordering his men to gather Logan. He was going to use his sway, turn Logan. The men started grasping at him, unable to get a solid grip as he fought, and the man nearest Morgan lowered his pistol, shooting Logan in the thigh.
There was the sudden flash of a vision, the soldiers behind me rushing forward, an eruption of gunfire and death, and I screamed, “Enough.”
Logan’s struggling ceased, all eyes on me, the prophet.
“Now, Brianna,” Morgan said, “you’re taking the enjoyment right out of this.”
I moved a step forward and he held up a finger, warning me.
“Stop,” I pleaded.
He sighed. “Fine. The game is over.” His head jerked, indicating Emily, and said, “Bag the girl, kill the others.” A soldier stepped from behind him, a black head sock and restraints at the ready, and Aern jerked, twisting to go for him without thought. Another round fired and caught him close range, throwing his leg out from under him. He caught himself, half-up, and I launched my own body in front of Emily, her attempt nearly knocking me forward. If she went for Morgan too soon, she would die. We would all die. Without Emily, there was no one to stop the prophecy, no way to end the fire.
“No,” I said, “Morgan, if you—”
He held up a hand, voice calm, deadly. “No more threats, Brianna. I know the truth. There is only one way this ends.”
My eyes stayed on his, all of us hanging in the balance, and he only had two words. An order before he turned to walk away, wholly unconcerned with the carnage that would follow.
“Do it.”
A rush of men attacked, bodies and bullets suddenly filling the narrow space between the crowds, and I was hit, knocked out of the way by two men colliding. Emily’s form was struck mid-waist as one of Morgan’s men tried to lift her bodily. They were too fast, it was too unnatural, and I looked up to see Aern and Logan moving for Morgan.
They were the three most powerful men in the room, but when Morgan’s fighters converged, they took Aern and Logan with a strength that seemed wrong, relentless and unwavering. Logan’s elbow jerked as he twisted one man’s head, threw two more punches. He’d lost the use of his leg, but it was already healing, the repair surely sapping his strength. Aern had made it farther, closer to his brother, and Morgan stopped, turning to watch what surely would be the last attempt Aern ever made.
Wesley and the others fought beside us, tearing Emily free from Morgan’s men as she landed a blow or two of her own. She didn’t have her knives, unprepared as we were, but she wouldn’t need them for this. She would only need her hands.
My arms lifted, almost of their own accord, and I was aware, in the back of my mind, that there were too many of us here, that everyone would know.
There would be no more secrets. But it didn’t matter now, it didn’t feel unsafe. It felt like the only option.
My only choice.