Devin had a single, frozen moment of clarity. He stopped struggling and instead angled his arm for the blade stashed near his shoulder. He gave the blade a quick twirl so he could plunge it backward. The enforcer’s hand flew up in defense. Devin spun and slashed, coming to a stop as the spray of blood rained around him.
And for one glorious minute, there was nothing between him and Graves. And in that heartbeat of time, the oozing, corrupted onyx and burgundy ambition that surrounded Graves held a tremor of pale, ashen fear.
Chapter Thirteen
Mirandafroze.
The world froze.
Devin faced Graves like he was about to enact the worst sort of violence and enjoy it. It wasn’t Graves’s fate that made her heart stop. It was the enforcer who leapt to prevent Devin from reaching him.
Miranda shouted a warning, but her voice seemed to carry in slow motion, the sound muted to her ears even as Devin charged.
Graves flailed backward, falling over himself in a comical parody of an escape. His collected superiority lost the moment real danger threatened him.
But he was not Devin’s target. Mid-sprint, Devin threw the knife in his hand, catching Miranda’s captor in the shoulder and allowing her to pull free. With his forward momentum he slid, kicking out the legs of the last enforcer so that they toppled over the railing and fell with a scream and a horrid, echoing squelch. The scream would draw every available enforcer to them.
Dodging past Graves, Devin headed toward the office. To Cordelia.
And Graves seized the opportunity, fleeing faster than Miranda could blink.
There wasn’t time to dwell on the effervescent emotions brimming in Miranda’s chest.
Enemies charged for the stairs from every direction. On the farther end of the warehouse, Miranda’s mother sent a stack of crates tumbling end over end. The thick crates bounced on each step as the heavy wood fractured and cracked and crushed all in its path, effectively blocking that staircase. Her mother was supposed to signal Gideon, but instead she had climbed from the roof and unsheathed her swords.
Miranda followed Devin to the office. He had already kicked the door in, but it was empty.
“No! Where did he take her?”
Devin pointed. “I don’t think he did, love.”
She followed his hand, noting a smashed window and, finally, taking in the chaos of the previously ordered office that suggested a struggle. Had they tossed her sister out the window?
Miranda ran to it, looking down for a sign of Cordelia’s body, but there was nothing. Heart squeezing as, once again, she had no idea of her sister’s fate, she glanced up at the crisscrossing walkways that comprised the upper floor.
Her eyes scanned for a moment before finding her. Cordelia, sprinting down a walkway toward the dangers below. Her nightdress was torn, but there was no sign of blood, only dirt smeared in the once pristine white linen.
Miranda didn’t question. She raced to her sister.
“Delia!”
Cordelia turned and a wide smile spread over her face. “Miri!” Miranda embraced her sister, spinning her off her feet, then heldher at arm’s length to inspect for damage. “I’m fine, honestly. You can let me go now.”
“How did you get away?” Miranda asked, unable to stop smiling. Her sister was okay.
“Oh,” Cordelia shrugged. “I’m slippery when I wish to be, but more importantly is thatourmother?”
Cordelia pointed to the woman, now on the ground floor, hacking through enforcers with her dual blades like they were mere weeds in her garden. Even after all these years her mother had not forgotten her training. When too many overpowered enforcers converged, her mother used her surroundings to compensate for the discrepancy, utilizing their makeshift wall system to create obstacles or uprooting shelves to divert their path. She wisely favored her agility to dodge their attacks, even blocking a blow from one of them might prove painful, and with the right timing a punch would miss her and hit their ally.
Miranda had watched her mother do a few demonstrations when she was younger and, factually, she knew her mother had gone through the same rigorous and thorough training as herself. Yet, watching her leap and twist, navigate the space with precision and purpose, and leave a wake of destruction and death was too jarring. This couldn’t be her mother. She commanded tea rooms, not converging enemy forces.
Or, it seemed, Miranda had to accept that her mother commanded both.
“Watch out, Miri,” Cordelia tugged Miranda to follow her. A group of enforcers had ascended the stairs closest to them.
“Stay behind me,” Miranda yelled as she drew her sword. The walkway forced the enemy into a side-by-side line of two bodies at a time. Miranda looked for Devin, but he wasn’t in sight. Did he go after Graves? She wouldn’t blame him. If his revenge was what he was here for, then she hoped he got it. She already owed him more than she could ever return.
Miranda surveyed her surroundings as she met swords with the first wave of enforcers. Each time her sword connected, the power they wielded threatened to knock her weapon from her hands. She was not going to win this by normal means. She had to adjust, reconsider, and make use of her surroundings. Just as her mother was doing. Her only goal was to get Cordelia to safety.
