I hope her friend isn’t dead, but if he is, I certainly don’t want to add Adele to the list of people dead by Rivet’s hand. Ignoring the intense pain that courses through my leg and back, I push to my feet and chase after her, limping badly.
Adele is like a raging beast, attacking Rivet immediately with a kick similar to the one she used to knock me down. He is more ready for it than I was and easily catches her leg and punishes her with a vicious kick to the head. Dread fills my heart as I see Rivet remove a knife from his belt.
I swat away the dread like a pesky mosquito. Nothing can stop me. No amount of pain, no distance, no obstacle can prevent me from getting to her, killing Rivet, saving her.
Or so I think.
My brother appears from the side, seemingly arriving out of thin air, traveling through some crack between dimensions. He is flanked by a dozen men. There isn’t time to ask questions. The whys and whos and whats can come later. I lower my head and charge between two of the men. They are big and strong. It is like hitting a stone block. My feet keep moving, churning, trying to push them out of my way. I am screaming something—I have no idea what—but they won’t move, won’t relinquish their grip.
One of the guys twists around behind me and locks my arms behind my back.
Adele is already dead. Too much time has passed since Rivet pulled out the blade.
It is over, all over. All is lost. My mother. Adele. Roc will be imprisoned—maybe worse. My life is over.
Killen is in front of me, saying something. I can’t hear, don’t care to hear. Nothing he can say will matter to me. All of our childish kicks under the table, our childhood fights, were nothing compared to this. He is no longer my brother in any sense of the word, blood included.
Adele is already dead.
I lunge forward and head-butt his moving lips.
He goes down hard, but is on his feet in seconds, kicking me in the ribs, punching me in the face, spitting and snarling at me. Screaming at me. I still can’t hear him and don’t react to his physical abuse, which makes him even angrier. There is no physical pain that can eclipse the emotional anguish I feel. The only antidote to how I am feeling is death. I hope Killen will finish me off.
Although I’m sure Killen wants to kill me, he doesn’t. But only because he fears my father more than anyone. Bringing home a dead brother won’t sit well with my father, not because he values my life, but because of what I know. He needs to know who, if anyone, I’ve told his secrets to. I could’ve told half the Moon Realm by now. Yeah, me dying will create far too much damage control, which is a headache the President won’t want.
Eventually he stops beating me. Through my bloody, swollen eyes, I see them drag Roc forward. He is badly beaten, too. They sit us next to each other, back to back so that we stay up.
My hearing finally returns in a blast of noise. Bombs are still thundering around the subchapter. Roc is groaning. My brother is speaking. “Why, my dear brother, were you following this filthy traitor all over the Moon Realm? Answer me, or she dies.”
Huh? My head is throbbing so badly and my mind is so muddled that I don’t really understand what is happening. My brother is asking me about Adele, I think, but he is threatening me with her life, which is meaningless. He can’t take something away that is already gone. “Already dead,” I manage to whisper.
“No, brother—not dead. You can add Rivet’s murder to her list of offenses.”
Chapter Nineteen
Adele
I’m not going to die until Rivet does. If we both die, that will still be a victory. A way for me to honor Cole.
Using my legs like scissors, I clamp them around one of Rivet’s legs and roll, forcing his knee to buckle to the side. He lets out a cry of pain as his cartilage twists. I move faster than I’ve ever moved, kicking to my feet in one motion like a ninja, a move my dad showed me countless times, but which I’d never been able to master.
Rivet’s knife falls out of his hand and to the side. I scoop it up and attack, plunging the blade deep into his chest before he has a chance to react. His eyes widen and his lips let out a strange groan, a ghoulish gurgle usually reserved for the damned. Which he is. Or is about to be. Blood trickles from his lips and his life ebbs away swiftly. Justice is served.
I’d hoped my revenge would lessen the pain of the loss, but it doesn’t. Now that Rivet is dead, the pain resurfaces, flowing out of my eyes in rivers of tears. My breaths shorten and I find myself gasping and sobbing. The urge to wrench the knife from Rivet’s chest and plunge it into my own is so strong I see my hands clench around the hilt.
An image of my sister fills my mind. Then my father. My mother. Tawni, my only friend. Tristan. Tristan is last. Someone worth living for.
At the moment my grip loosens on the knife, strong hands pull me up and away from Rivet. I don’t know what is happening, but am powerless to stop it. On both sides of me are gargantuans, guys so big they could’ve only been manufactured by a steroidal experiment. They drag me to a cluster of similar-sized giants.
As they pull me into the circle of bodies, I gasp when I see who is in the center. First I see Tristan’s friend, the scared one, the hero. He is beaten to a pulp, his face puffy and red. Next to him is Tristan, equally battered.
A young boy, no older than fifteen, is talking to Tristan. “…answer me or she dies,” he says.
I hear Tristan mumble, “Already dead,” through bloodied teeth and swollen lips.
“No, brother—not dead. You can add Rivet’s murder to her list of offenses.”
They dump me in front of him. Although his eyes are too puffy to widen, I see a spark of recognition flash across the blue orbs. He really believed I was dead. He must’ve seen Rivet hovering over me with the knife, just before he was captured by these goons. He didn’t see me kill him.
The teenager called him brother. Then that must mean… I pry my eyes from Tristan to take another look at the brat. From the different angle I can see the family resemblance immediately. To Tristan; to the President. Tristan’s brother; his name is Killen, I remember. Clearly not the same type of guy as Tristan. Or at least I hope they are different. Very different. Opposites would be good.
The fierce sound of bombs detonating resonates all around us. It is a full-scale attack on the city.
Tristan is still staring at me, almost smiling—if that is possible in his current state.
“ANSWER MY QUESTION!” Killen roars, kicking Tristan in the stomach with the heel of his boot.
Tristan grunts, drops his head to his knees, spits out a chunk of blood. Lifts his head and speaks through gritted teeth: “I’ll tell you everything once Adele is safe.”
Even in his condition, the way he says it sends tingles up my spine. Not in a nervous/scary way, but in an it-feels-good-to-have-someone-care-what-happens-to-you kind of way.
The bomb explodes so close that the shrapnel should rip us apart. Only it doesn’t because of the wall of burly sun dwellers ringing us.
They take the worst of it.
The men who aren’t killed by the sharp blades of metal spinning in every direction are knocked off their feet by the shockwave that follows. I am, too, getting blasted into Tristan, landing on him hard, kneeing him in the chest and elbowing him in the head. I feel so bad when I see the look of pain on his face.
But there isn’t time for sympathy. We might only have one chance to get away. I start to pull him to his feet, when suddenly another set of arms is helping me.
“Tawni!” I practically shriek when I see my friend next to me. “Where’s—” I start to say.
“Elsey’s safe. We have to move.”
Tawni helps me get Tristan to his feet, and I am about to rope one of his arms around my shoulders when I hear a shout. “You’re not going anywhere!” Killen roars, striding toward me. He probably thinks I’m just a normal, weak girl.