And our people. They were the meat Ardaton could distribute as needed—throw into the pit of mindless labor or plant on the pedestal of reproduction.
That was it. Ilasall’s non-fertile folk weren’t worth the trouble, and the government had decided to reduce the number of…rabble.
“Pigs,” Sadira sneered. She flipped her knife, curling her lip at the steel. “Damn it. This is all I have left.”
I rubbed at my face, momentarily blinding myself. Both from my palms blocking my sight and the flames erupting in my broken ribs. “We’re fucked.” The empty handgun I had shoved into my thigh holster and my two knives couldn’t change our odds.
“Yup.” She flinched as a rogue bullet lodged in the car concealing us. “It’s like Ardaton was prepared for this.”
Their army was too organized to deny it.
Twisting around, I joined her in sneaking a look at the soldiers slamming the back doors of their military trucks and driving away, making space for empty vehicles to take their place—new wagons to transport human cattle.
On the other side of the crossroad, a heap of short, golden-brown hair popped out from around the back of a bus. I dug my nails into the meat of my palms to stop myself from yelling at Zion to hide.
The idiot was offering himself as target practice for the enemy’s army.
Pushing past the pulse roaring in my ears, I mused, “Someone told Ardaton we would go for the Spire.” Their troopshad marched straight to the glass building instead of sweeping the neighborhoods clean of any rebels first.
“Who would do that?” Sadira tucked a thin ebony braid back into the knot atop her head. The sleeves of her violet hoodie fell to the middle of her forearms, revealing a strip of crimson-soaked fabric wrapped around her dark skin. “The cities never fought each other’s battles before. Who would employ Ardaton’s support?”
A voice I’d learned to loathe drawled behind us, “Me.”
76
GEDEON
My instincts went on alert, alarm bells ringing so loud they pounded my head like a sledgehammer. But I didn’t need to turn around to know who had admitted their sins.
Sadira’s thick, brownish bottom lip dropped, her mouth falling open. “Shit.”
As she spun around, away from the car and toward the sidewalk, so did I.
Looming above us, the apartment buildings behind him as gray as his button-up shirt, Ezra flashed a grin full of missing teeth. “Miss me?”
“You,” I growled. My fucking brother by blood.
“Yes, me.” He tilted his head aside, his brown frizzy strands a stark contrast to the dotted-in-scarlet gauze secured around his soft face. The medical fabric protected the hole where his ear had used to be and the five vertical slices in his cheek. Zion had opened Ezra’s mouth to the elements during his time in our underground.
“Why do you think the Spire exploded? I knew that’s where you’d go. All I needed to do was wait until I was sure you had reached the top floor.” Ezra folded his arms, failing to mask awince as his nailless fingers brushed against his biceps. “But for some reason, you’re freaking unkillable.”
Shuffling into a fighter’s squat, Sadira brandished her knife. “Want to see if the same theory applies to you?”
But there was no point in preparing for assault when Ezra’s standing form served as a beacon to Ardaton’s men streaming the streets and filling the intersection.
We had been spotted.
And Ezra was well aware—his conceited smile born from Sadira’s taunt proved it.
“What about your father?” Unhurriedly, I rose to my full height. “Did you know he was up there—at the top of the Spire—with us?”
Despite my protesting ribs, I extended a hand to Sadira to help her get up. With the gaping wound in her calf, she staggered before straightening and finding her balance.
“My father,” Ezra scoffed. “After I crawled out of your basement and returned to Ilasall, he left me to fend for myself.” Disdain contorted his features as he spat on the ground. The blob of his saliva darkened the concrete tiles. “He’s dead to me.”
No surprise there. I highly doubted Peter would have succeeded in serving as a fatherly figure, even if he had chosen to try.
But if my brother wasn’t doing our father’s bidding…
