“Don’t move!” snarls Consul.
I don’t know why she says it. I couldn’t move if my life depended on it—and I guess it does.
“Get off of her.” A new voice enters the fray.
Eames.
Consul’s voice grows louder. “You come a step closer and I tear her arm free of its socket.”
“Get off the girl now.” That would be Nonna.Oh no, no, no.She’s not supposed to be here. Her voice is all firm disapproval, and it’s the exact same tone she used on me and my sisters when we were misbehaving.
I blink, craning my head a little. I can barely see through the curtain of my brown-and-pink hair.
Eames stands perhaps ten feet away. He has Piperbehind him, one arm held out protectively. The other holds Nonna’s bread knife. The serrated edge gives it a wicked look.
Nonna is beside him, her worn hands clenched into fists.
“Let her go,” says Nonna fiercely.
Consul’s knee presses even harder into my back. My spine creaks in protest and my visor digs into the bridge of my nose, sending another jolt of agony through me. “Run.” I barely manage to make my lips shape the word.
Their attempt to save me is admirable, but they have no way to stop Consul. She can tear my arm out of its socket, grab her fallen weapon, and have them all at her mercy in a few moments. She won’t even break a sweat. Consul was trained to handle criminals; a kid, an eighteen-year-old boy, and an eighty-something old lady won’t stand a chance.
“Good, you’re all here,” says Consul. She doesn’t even sound winded by the fight. Damn it. “That will make things easier. Give me the girl.”
“Don’t,” I rasp. “She’s going to kill you all anyway.”
I scream as Consul pulls harder on my arm.
“Give me the girl,” says Consul again.
Eames tells her no. With a few expletives thrown in for good measure. “You let Augusta go right now.”
“Or what?” Consul laughs hollowly. “You’ll stab me with a bread knife? Face it, kid. You and your sister are useless. The only valuable thing about you is what people are willing to pay. I’m going to kill this wraith, and you, and the old lady. Then I’m going to sell your sister to the highest bidder. Might be Vale, might not be. We’ll see.”
“Yes,” says Hannah Vale coldly. “We will.”
For a moment, the world whites out. I can’t hear anything but a vague ringing in my ears. A high-pitched whine, a whisper of heat.
It’s only in the echo that I hear it: a single shot of gunfire.
I’m shaking before I realize what’s happened. Consul’s stranglehold on me loosens. Something wet and warm splatters against my cheek.
Consul hits the floor beside me.
I remain there for a few heartbeats, waiting to see if a new pain will make itself known. Maybe I’ve been shot and just don’t know it yet. But the only things I feel are the throb of my broken nose, the soreness of my back, and the bright pain of my shoulder.
I push myself upright, balancing on my elbows.
Consul lies beside me, blood pooling beneath her.
“I didn’t want to pay her anyway.” Vale stands by the railing, her gun loose in her hand. She looks at me, then past me.
“Mom.” The word rasps out of Eames. One syllable, but it carries a world of hurt.
“Will.” Vale’s voice hardens. She looks at her son, and contempt flares in her deep blue eyes. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well, I have something to say,” says Eames. “Leave us alone. Go. Do whatever the hell you want to, but you don’t get to drag us with you.”
