His head hung, but he looked at Ellin from beneath his brow, swollen and bruised, cut and bleeding. She could still see the unhealed scars from the day he’d released Morgan; the day he’d tried to save their prophet. He wouldn’t give her up now, not any single bit of information that would help them. He would never turn on Brianna.
Ellin’s jaw tightened as their gaze connected. These men would die for what they’d done.
A man beside Brendan grabbed his head, jerking it up to face Ellin, to make her watch as they played out the next cruelty. But everything stopped when the slam of a heavy metal door echoed through the space. Ellin shivered, despite her resolve, and they were joined by a new group, five men surrounding the one who led them all.
Jackson, they’d called him, though she had no idea whether it was his first name or last. She’d not seen this man, any of these men, before the attack on Westlake. She didn’t know why they were targeting Brendan or why they hadn’t bothered with Morgan or Aern; she only knew they wanted information on the prophet. On Brianna. And that there was something powerful about them. Something wrong.
The one they called Jackson stood beside Brendan’s chair, the soles of his leather shoes splashing into a pool of water as they came to rest. He was tall and lean with perfect hair and dark eyes. His manner was cool, always calm. Ellin might have thought him attractive if she didn’t want to kill him so badly. He unbuttoned the crisp suit jacket with one hand, smoothly pulling it away to roll up his sleeves. The motions were practiced; everything she’d seen him do quick and clean. She wanted to close her eyes when he reached for Brendan, wanted to not see what he was about to do, but she couldn’t. She had to watch.
Jackson smiled at her, a slow, sexy smirk that said he enjoyed his job, that said he relished her pain, but still, she didn’t look away. His hand met Brendan’s chest and the air changed around them. It had been almost imperceptible the first few times, but it was charged with something, some current just below the surface.
Brendan gritted his teeth, the slackness suddenly gone from his body, and the man pressed harder, forcing power through Brendan’s sternum, into his chest. Brendan stared at her, eyes batting in panic, chest frozen, muscles strained, and Ellin couldn’t understand, couldn’t see what this torture was. Time seemed to stretch as Brendan struggled against his restraints, and then she saw it in the color of his face, and she understood.
He couldn’t breathe.
Time stretched, the agony of his torture bearing down on both of them. This time, Ellin knew he wouldn’t make it.
“Stop,” she begged, daring to once again find Jackson’s gaze. The corners of his eyes tightened, his lip quirked, and then he let out a breath as he released his hold on Brendan to turn to her. She didn’t take her eyes off him as Brendan gasped, struggling for air in the background. Her sole focus was on Jackson, heart racing, skin prickling, her body warning her as he stepped closer. Run, it said. Run.
He crouched beside her, fingertips rolling over his thumbs, and cocked one brow. “You know the rules, Miss Walker. If you want to stop me from hurting Mr. Samuels, you’ll need to give me an answer in return.”
She swallowed against the thickness in her throat, new blood working free of her wounds. Her chest ached, fear and panic and unadulterated adrenaline.
Still, she managed to say, “Please, call me Ellin.”
He laughed. A short, shallow huff of air that said she’d surprised him, but it couldn’t have been true humor. She wouldn’t believe he cared whether she lived or died, only that she told him what he needed to know. “The girl, Miss Walker?”
In the distance, Brendan mumbled some half-formed words as he struggled to save her, but it was too late for that. It was too late for both of them.
“The girl,” Ellin answered through clenched teeth, “is going to rip you to pieces.”
His hand shot out and wrapped around the base of her throat. His thumb pressed into the skin just below her jaw, cutting off her pulse as he turned her head to face him. “This is the last time you’ll look into my eyes, Miss Walker.” He squeezed, jaw going tight as he watched her. “Have a care to appreciate that.” He flicked his wrist, and a muffled pop shuddered through her. A feeling of liquid, of darkness, rushed through her, no longer in control as her face smacked concrete. The man stood and walked away.
She might have seen him if her body hadn’t shut down, might have heard the ragged screams from Brendan, the last warnings before he was ripped from his chair.
But Ellin knew she wasn’t going to die. She knew because her prophet, their Brianna, had saved her.
Chapter Five
Brianna
“Brianna,” Logan said, squeezing her shoulders. “Brianna.” She shook herself, coming back to find him inches away, staring into her eyes. His gaze flicked back and forth, searching for signs of what was now gone. “What was that?”
She wet her lips. “Brendan,” she said, closing her eyes tight for one long moment. “He’s got Brendan.”
Logan drew back, not releasing his hold on her. “Wh—” He paused, one side of his face drawing up in confusion. “Brianna…”
She let out a quick breath, the horror of the vision giving way to the realization of what it meant. “He’s not dead, Logan. Brendan…” But she didn’t want to say, didn’t want to explain that he was so close, so near death. Gods, what had they done to him?
Hands shaking, she wiped her palms on the legs of her jeans.
“What can I do, Brianna?”
“I just…” She didn’t know, didn’t have the slightest idea what it meant, where Brendan was. Her head shook numbly. It was a message. The dark-haired man had wanted her to see it, wanted her to know that Brendan was alive. That they were killing him. “He was there. The man, the one from the warehouse.” She swallowed against a tight throat, sorting through the images. What was she supposed to do with it? Did he want her to find them? All he’d have to do was show her, let her see where. But he hadn’t, only flashed the scene of Brendan’s body, bloody and bruised as he was dragged through a building. Was he taunting her?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m not sure what to do.”
Logan’s grip loosened, sliding down her arms. “Is that…” He raised a hand to her face, gently brushing the hair back from her cheek. “It wasn’t a prophecy, was it?” He’d seen the difference, the flicker in her pupils replaced by something else. A vacant stare, if she had to guess.
“It’s him,” Brianna said, reeling from the terror of the vision, of feeling that man inside her mind. “He has some way of showing me things.”
This was beyond Logan’s realm, and he didn’t like not having an answer, a way to protect her. “We’ll find him, Brianna.” His free hand slid down to hers, squeezing a fraction too tight, and he tucked her stray hair behind an ear.
She saw Brendan’s face again, the mangled mess they’d left of his body, and she leaned into Logan’s palm to gather her courage. “You can’t.” His thumb brushed her cheek, urging her to look at him, and she said, “He’s too strong, Logan. And there’s something about him that’s just not right.”
Logan sighed. “We can’t leave him to…” He broke off, frustrated at their lack of information. “Whatever he’s doing, Brianna, it’s wrong. We have to find him. He held you captive. He was working with Morgan.” Logan’s list stopped as he realized they had the key.
He was suddenly standing, seemingly decided that Morgan would be able to at least give them a headstart, but Brianna said, “No.”
“We’ll just talk to him. That’s all. We won’t make any decisions until we find out what Morgan has to say.” She could almost hear the planning beneath his words: It wasn’t going to be easy, but they had Aern. And Aern had this new sway.
Brianna stood as well. “That’s not why you can’t go after him.” She’d been thinking about this for days, since before she’d known about Brendan. Since she’d realized what she and Emily were. She didn’t know if it was r
ight, if it was the plan her mother had laid in place, but she wouldn’t be able to live with doing anything different. She had to protect them.
Logan was watching her, waiting. It was clear she wasn’t ready to make this decision. But she didn’t see any other way. “He’s too powerful, Logan. I have to help you.” She glanced at her hands. “I have to give you the tools to keep us all safe.”
It was not what he’d expected to hear. But Logan wasn’t a fool, and it didn’t take long for him to understand.
They were in over their heads.
There was more danger, something Brianna didn’t see them coming safely through. He stepped forward, eyes on her for a long moment before he asked in a low voice, “How bad is it?” At her hesitation, he said, “You have to tell me, Brianna. We need to know what we’re up against.”
She felt sick at the idea of what might come, at how bad it might get. She didn’t want to tell him that, didn’t want to say that it was all about to be torn away from them. But he was right, they had to know.
“They’re shadows,” she said. “They’ve got every power you’ve ever dreamt of. And they’re coming for us.”
***
Brianna was alone in the dim light of the sitting room, ankles crossed under the edge of the chair. Her hands rested on her lap, tattoos staring up at her, a faint glow gathering over the center of her palms. It wasn’t bright, not entirely real, but instead more like a tracer, like the trail of a sparkler, fleeting and half-there. She knew only she could see it. She and the other shadows. Whatever this otherworldly aura was, the human eye couldn’t detect it, and the Seven were closer to human than shadow. Her power hummed through her, more tangible than the visions of light.
There was a soft click across the room, Logan entering behind her, and she drew back the power. She needed to use it, to learn to control and strengthen it, but she needed to hear Logan more, to see what he’d found out. And using the power exhausted her.
He stepped up behind her, hands wrapping over her shoulders to massage away the tension, and she leaned into him, tilting her head back.
Her eyes were closed, but she could feel him watching her as his hands stilled. A thumb rolled slowly up the side of her neck and she breathed deep, relaxing into the feel of his fingers as they came higher to trail feather-light over her cheek, her temple, barely brushing her eyelid. Logan’s breath came out in what might have been a whisper, and then she felt him move, lips touching hers so gently that she couldn’t resist reaching for him, to pull him closer where he leaned over her.
She cared for him. In a matter of days, weeks, she’d fallen for Logan in a way that was deeper than anything she’d believed possible, and it hurt. It hurt because she didn’t understand it, didn’t know if this was a bond, distinct from the one her sister had formed with Aern, or whether it was led by the prophecies, those visions of him before she’d even known him. She didn’t know why she was here and how her mother and the others had guided her. But what hurt most was that she couldn’t let herself fall into him further. She couldn’t let go, because she didn't know why they’d pushed her, or what was going to happen with this war.
If he was going to live.
The idea wounded her, even unspoken, and Logan drew back, his fingers meeting the dampness on her cheek. “Brianna?”
She shook her head, hand tightening over his, and refused to open her eyes. Not yet. Logan stayed where he stood, free hand sliding to cup the base of her throat, thumb crossing her chin. “Brianna,” he whispered again.
“I’m sorry, Logan.” The words were soft, an apology for so much more than she could explain to him, and his hand tightened in hers. Don’t, he’d told her before. Don’t apologize for saving us. She blinked the dampness away, staring up at him. He was right. Even if she didn’t believe she could save them, it was time to stop apologizing and start doing.
“What did you find out?”
Logan seemed to forget his purpose, as if he’d been lost in some absent thoughts of his own, some worry beyond what should have been paramount to both of them. He straightened, keeping her hand as he moved to sit across from her. “He’d used the name Jackson. We’re fairly certain the shadows planted him, because Morgan didn’t seem to mind that we were questioning him. He didn’t even know the man’s background.”
It wasn't that far of a jump in speculation, because Morgan had every member of his team checked thoroughly. If Morgan didn’t know his background, then he had likely been swayed as such. Pushed by this man to believe him, like the others, the shadows who had been living among the Seven for years without anyone noticing.
“Did anything seem familiar to Aern?” she asked.
Logan shook his head. “It seems this Jackson came on board after our split with council. No one here appears to remember anything about him.” His eyes came back to her. “Except you.”
Except her. Brianna wasn’t just a shadow, she couldn’t be swayed. She couldn’t be forced to forget him. But somehow, this man was throwing visions into her head. And that was a line he shouldn’t have been able to cross.
“Get Aern and Emily,” she said. “It’s time we started preparing for the fight.”
Chapter Six
Aern
Aern stood in front of Brianna, hands clasped with hers as she searched his connections. He could feel Emily behind him from her spot on the edge of the sofa. He didn’t need to look to imagine her, hands twisted as she watched her sister work to restore some long-gone power within him. The bond was changing, becoming stronger—more real every moment—and he could sense her distress. This wasn’t some experiment to work toward a vague prophecy. This was Brianna’s last-chance gamble to save them from a vision she knew was true, a fight that was coming to them. A war they couldn’t escape.
Brianna set another thread into place, connected another link, and her shoulders slumped with the effort. He felt a tug on the bond again, Emily’s worry, and he resisted the urge to look back at her. He didn’t want this. None of them wanted this. But he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her alive.
“Maybe that’s enough for now,” Emily said from behind him. He could hear the concern in her voice, and he knew Logan had been watching Brianna’s strength wane with about all the restraint he possessed.
Brianna opened her eyes. “Are you tired?”
Aern considered the question, shrugged. “Not like before. I actually just feel”—he flexed his fingers, drew his shoulders back— “stronger.” He should have felt like sleeping for days, the need to heal sending him into a kind of comatose state, but his senses were only slightly dulled. He could see that the work had taken its toll on Brianna, though, so he pulled his hands free of hers.
Logan slid a chair behind her and she took it gratefully, beckoning to Emily at the same time. “Okay, now you.”
Emily stood, moving to Aern’s side. “No, Brianna. You need to rest.”
Her argument was cut short by the buzz of Aern’s pocket. He pulled the device out, confused by the message that flashed over the screen. “I have to—” And then his own words fell off. He was at a loss to explain.
Brianna waved it away. “It’s fine. I can work with Logan until the two of you are free.”
Aern nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder before lacing his fingers into Emily’s to lead her from the room.
When they stepped outside, Wesley was already moving up the corridor to meet them, the color drained from his face. “She’s in the west hall. They’re deciding which surgeries to go ahead with, so you’ve probably only got a minute to talk to her.”
Emily’s fingers tightened in Aern’s. She’d have no idea who they were speaking of, but from the look on Wesley’s face, it would be clear it was someone they knew personally.
Aern didn’t explain; she’d see soon enough. Only the search teams he’d sent out knew that Brendan might still be alive, but no one had suspected they’d saved one of the others.
Six men waited outside her room
. Seven more were standing just inside the entrance. He nodded to them briefly as they moved aside, grateful they’d managed to return. And then his eyes found her, and his hand went slack in Emily’s.
There was a prep team working to move her, clearing the blood that was caked along her right side. He crossed the room, vaguely aware of Emily’s intake of breath beside him, the way her free hand came up to cover her mouth.
Aern placed a palm against Ellin’s left cheek, the only spot not marred by cuts or bruising, and she opened her eye. It was a moment before she recognized him, took in her surroundings, and then something changed in her face, a kind of relief, despite the damage that ravaged her.
Her lips parted, struggling to form a word, and Aern knelt closer.
“We think she’s trying to tell us about Brendan,” Eric said from behind them, his voice quiet.
Ellin’s eye closed tighter.
“No,” Aern said. “Brianna. She’s trying to warn us about Brianna.” A grateful breath escaped her, and she opened her eye to close it again, in a long blink. A yes.
His thumb slid over her cheek. “Don’t worry, Ellin. We have her. She’s safe.” Her gaze moved to his, another warning, and he answered, “We know they’re coming for her, but she’s safe.”
Ellin hadn’t had a chance to learn about the battle with Morgan, hadn’t seen anything except the men who had taken her and Brendan. But Aern wouldn’t tell her yet. Not here. This room was filled with men and women of the Seven Lines, but they only knew what they’d witnessed of Brianna—the wind that had whipped around her, the power that had surged from her hands. No one had dared speak of the others, to even whisper shadow. “Rest,” he said. “We are all safe.”
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