past. Like feelings, people change. Only time will prove her wrong.
She nods and says, “I am. Unfortunately.”
Relief crashes over me, cool and sweet. At some point, one of those bonded Myriadians must have entered Troika, not just the Grid.
“We’ll keep Mr. Flynn safe,” Shamus says, “and you’ll vote to Resurrect General Orion.”
That is a thinly veiled threat, I’m sure of it. I’m supposed to pick which of this year’s fallen soldiers rises from the dead. “Why Orion, and not Levi?”
“Our reasons do not matter.” Luciana flexes her grip. “A bargain is a bargain.”
Exactly. “I never enter into a bargain lightly. Any bargain. I never agree to terms until I know all the ins and outs.”
Still in the process of disarming Killian, Shamus crouches and snags a gun holstered at his ankle. A quick snatch and grab. In and out. “Orion will put Troika first. Nothing else matters.”
Wrong. Something else matters greatly. We need someone who will put all people first. But I make no mention of this fact right now. “I’ll vote for the person who shares my vision for a better tomorrow.” So far I think I’ve narrowed my choices down to Archer, Meredith and Levi. I’m sorry, Elizabeth.
But no pressure, right?
Killian’s eyes blink open. He stumbles to his feet and backs away from us, shaking his head before banging a fist into his temple. Then, moving with lightning fast speed, he palms a hidden dagger, one Shamus missed, and points it—at me.
“You live,” he snarls, and his accent is gone.
I almost despair. Every word he utters now comes with an edge sharp enough to cut through steel.
The problem is, my heart isn’t made of steel but something akin to silk. If this keeps up, the organ will be shredded, leaving me raw, vulnerable.
“What happened to your accent?” I ask. I know him. He hides it only when he wants to keep someone at a distance.
“Why do you live?” he continues, as if I haven’t spoken. “You were supposed to die.”
Supposed to die? As in, he planned to kill me with the bond all along?
Yep. Shredded.
I must be mistaken about his meaning. My Killian would never do such a thing. Never! His love for me was—is—genuine. Something is very wrong here.
The madness...
I tremble as Shamus gives me a look: Told you.
He expects me to crumble, doesn’t he? Determined, I lift my chin and focus fully on Killian. We’ll get through this. We must. “What you’re feeling right now is—”
“Shut up. Just shut up. You are... I can’t...” He gives a violent shake of his head, then bangs the dagger’s hilt into his temple once, twice; pain lances through my temple, and I wince. “I’m going to kill you.”
Five minutes ago, he kissed me as if he couldn’t breathe without me. Now he hates me and wants me dead?
Still mistaken, Lockwood?
Surely. Life cannot be this cruel.
Who am I kidding? Life can be far crueler.
“He doesn’t remember you,” Luciana says, and sighs. “They never do.”
No, no. Killian would never forget me. But okay, say she’s right. Knowledge is power. I need to learn more. “Will he ever remember me?” I swallow the barbed lump growing in my throat. “Will I later forget him?”
“I don’t know.” Now she shrugs, and it’s obvious she doesn’t care. “We had to ensure no couples survived more than a few weeks together.”
Meaning, what? She murdered the couples?
Oh, zero. That’s exactly what she did.
I suck in a mouthful of air, but my lungs constrict, refusing to accept the breath. If I wasn’t a Conduit, she would murder me, too. That much, she’d already made clear.
Stomach churning, I meet Killian’s narrowed gaze. “Remember me. Please.” Help me. I’m not sure I can do this on my own.
“I’ll kill you,” he says, and frowns. “But I don’t want to kill you.”
Well, thank the Firstking for that. My Killian is still in there. “Fight this,” I tell him, relief giving me strength. “Fight for me. For us.” For our cause. There’s so much left to do.
“Fight for a target?” He sneers at me, as if I’m not just an enemy but a foolish enemy.
Wait. He considered me a target? He truly doesn’t remember me.
I struggle to maintain my composure, every nerve ending frazzled. The bond was supposed to bring us closer together, not rip us apart.
Shamus uses Killian’s distraction to his advantage and tries to kick the weapon from his hand. But Killian kicks back. Unprepared, Shamus hunches over even as he stumbles.
Killian is a skilled fighter. The best I’ve ever seen. Whatever weapon he holds at any given time becomes a part of him. But he’s in no condition to fight, a fact made clear when Shamus gains his bearings, leaps at him and whales. Jab, jab, jab. Meaty fists hammer at Killian’s face.
I gasp with shock, horror and pain, feeling as if I’m the one being pummeled. Stars wink before my eyes, though they fail to obscure the glittering Lifeblood pouring from Killian’s nose. A warm gush of Lifeblood pours down my chin.
Huffing and puffing as if I just ran a marathon, I wipe my face with a shaky hand. In the crackling firelight, the liquid on my fingers is as breathtaking as it is priceless. Every drop ensures my survival. The more I lose, the weaker I become. At least Luciana’s warning has been verified. Whatever injury Killian sustains, I will experience, too.
As Killian stumbles backward, Shamus finishes disarming him. But I know Killian, and I know what he’s capable of—does he let the General do this?
I manage to wrench free of Luciana’s hold and rush between the combatants with my arms extended.
Shadows cackle with glee, and I cringe. Does close proximity to Killian strengthen the darkness?
Flames still glitter in his eyes—eyes wild and crazed. Does close proximity to me strengthen his Light?
“Please, stop this,” I say. “You’re hurt.” He needs to eat ambrosia, Myriad’s version of manna. He’ll heal in seconds. “Do you have—”
He lashes out his arm and wraps his hand around my bicep. If I’d been human, the force of his grip would have broken my humerus.
Shamus and Luciana rush toward us, but Killian spins me, putting my back to his chest as he places the dagger at my throat. But what is worse? He does it without pause. Cold metal meets
