She veered left, down one of the narrow alleys, then right, then left again, her muscle memory of running through Rinnia with Aidon as children proving more useful than any training ever could. She risked a glance over her shoulder as she darted down another side street, cursing as she saw a Bellare member closing in.
Only one remained, and yet…
It was Aidon who had been built for speed; Josie’s prowess was always force. She’d learned it long ago, racing through these very streets—had lost more copper than she cared to admit on ill-placed bets with her brother, and Clyde, and Lucas.
She’d never won a single one.
The rebel slammed into her, his arms wrapping aroundher torso as he sent them careening to the ground. Josie twisted, her hands clawing for his face as she tried to escape his grasp.
The man laughed as he clamored on top of her, his knees settling on either side of her waist as he pinned her to the ground. His hands found her neck, fingers digging into her flesh as Josie thrashed beneath his grip.
She dug her nails into the thin skin of his wrists, but it did not matter, it did notmatter, because he was bigger, and stronger, and Josie was…
A princess. Not a warrior.
It was her uncle’s voice in her head, that dry, dull tone Dominic had loved to wield against her and her dreams, and it had a fresh wave of fury cascading over Josie as she tried to suck in a breath against the rebel’s tightening grip.
She would be damned if that monster had the last word. She would not let Dominic’s memory steal her final moments with his poison and doubt.
The rebel screamed as Josie’s nails ripped into his skin, but he held firm, his grip crushing her windpipe as she tried—shetried—to free herself.
Not like this. She wouldnotdie like this. Not here, not now, not when—
The rebel’s grip loosened as he lurched forward with a choked gasp. Blood splattered onto Josie’s face, and she froze for a moment in surprise, her own reflected in the man’s wide eyes. And then he slumped sideways, his heavy weight sliding off her as he fell to the ground—dead.
Josie sucked in a lungful of air, blinking hard against the spots in her vision. There was a knife sticking out of the man’s skull, and behind him, staring down at his prone form, was—
“Natali,” Josie rasped.
She shoved herself up, her hand massaging her throat as she stared at the Saj. They’d traded their usual flowing pants and loose shirt for sturdy brown britches and a sleeveless vestfitted with another knife. Their silver hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of their neck, their brow furrowed as they strode forward and retrieved their blade.
“There’s no time to rest. There are more coming,” they urged. Their grip was tight as they heaved Josie to her feet. “Come. Follow me.”
Josie did so without question, even as her aching lungs screamed in protest at her exertion. The Saj kept a quick pace, weaving through backstreets and alleyways, their hand tight around Josie’s wrist lest she fall behind.
“Where are you taking me?” Josie croaked.
Their head swung left and right as they checked to ensure the cross street was clear before glancing back at Josie.
“Somewhere they won’t think to look for you.”
14
The cold bite of the iron table should have been a relief—a soothing balm to the white hot agony that radiated through Aya, carving a wound so deep, she was sure it would never heal.
But instead, the chill seeped into Aya’s bones, the unforgiving surface stinging the skin of her arms and legs as she thrashed within the confines of the chains that kept her pinned.
The woman’s hands were rough on her shoulders, her nails digging crescent moons into her flesh as she tilted her head back and grinned at the chorus of Aya’s screams.
It was a wonder Aya had any voice left at all.
How many had come to her today?
Three?
Four?
They’d once again dragged Aya from her cell with no windows and no light and no company save for her own raging thoughts and the screams of the prisoners—the humans—they were imparting power to.
