Descendants Series

by Melissa Wright

  I dropped my head back and kicked off my boots. In my fatigue, I was no longer concerned about being carted barefoot out a window.

  I must have dozed off, but when the scent of warm food hit my senses, I was jerked awake. I stretched, surveying the room to find two plates of chicken and rice with steamed vegetables on the table. Thinking it was odd that they’d left me alone, I crept silently toward it, realizing I probably resembled prey sniffing bait and not caring. And then I noticed my bedroom door had been shifted partially closed.

  My bare feet were noiseless on the plush carpet, but Logan wasn’t surprised to find me peeking through the open door. His jaw was tight as he disassembled a small black box near my bureau. He didn’t explain what he was doing, but I could see by the collection of plastic fragments scattered over the cabinet’s top that he’d been breaking apart several electronic security devices while I slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were Brendan’s.

  When he dropped the last piece onto the dresser, he looked up at me with what appeared to be conflict in his eyes. Two heartbeats later, it changed to determination. He reached down to pick up a bag that lay at his feet and pulled out a few wires and tools before handing it to me. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His expression left no doubt now. Brendan was trying to bypass Logan’s protection. And we were leaving.

  I threw a pair of jeans, two sweatshirts, and a toothbrush into the bag while Logan stepped into the hall with his men. He didn’t speak as he led me to the car, and was still silent the first twenty miles of road. But when the traffic thinned and the Division house became more distant, his silence became less angry and more … Logan. The street lights, more and more infrequent, flashed through the darkened windows to illuminate his face.

  There was no question he would be strong. Given his line, his position among Council, Logan would no doubt be as talented as any when it came to using his sway. He could have anything. It was so easy for them to take advantage, when a simple handshake and a smile, a brief word, could cause someone to do whatever they liked. To give whatever they wanted. I’d seen it among the ranks at Division. I’d seen the way Brendan’s select few had lived, the only thing keeping them in check Council and Morgan’s own designs on power and gain.

  Morgan hadn’t settled on money, though. He’d wanted control. Not political power, but ultimate control. Reign. A return to the day they’d ruled as kings. As gods.

  But the man beside me had no interest in any of that. He’d left his position at Council to save his people. He’d chosen to help me.

  He’d chosen this.

  “That’s very distracting,” Logan said, not taking his eyes off the road.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You.” His gaze met mine. “Staring at me.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t look away.

  The corner of his lips twitched.

  “I don’t think he does it on purpose,” I said after a pause.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Logan answered, knowing I was talking about Brendan’s poor decision making. “He put you in danger.” He glanced at the side mirror before changing lanes. “He put all of us in danger.”

  He was right. After Morgan had placed sway on so many of the men, no one could be safely trusted unless I’d personally searched their connections, seen for myself they weren’t under his control. But that wasn’t Brendan’s fault. He was confident in his own men, allowed them access to all of the security systems.

  Because we hadn’t told him everything. Because we hadn’t trusted anyone else with the knowledge of my other power.

  I looked out the window, the outskirts of the city passing by in a blur of shadow and light. Headlights reflected off darkened windows, everything closed down too early. I didn’t recognize the view. I opened my mouth to ask where we were going when Logan turned off the main road, taking a few scenic side streets before pulling into the drive of a three-story apartment building. The path curved around the back where a second-story parking garage was nestled between it and another building. Logan pulled the car between two similar-looking sedans and got out, carrying my bag.

  The closing door echoed across the walled-in garage as he placed a hand on my lower back and led me toward the elevator. It was sleek and stainless, and apparently private. No buttons or numbers lined the wall, merely a small touchscreen that Logan pressed a finger to before the doors sealed us in. On the top floor, we exited to a small foyer where Logan keyed in his passcode to the main door. As he released the lever, he looked back at me, expression unreadable as he paused for just a moment before finally opening the door. He took my hand, walking me forward as he dropped the bag onto a side table.

  The apartment was beautiful. Not in the lavish way the Division houses were; there was no excess here. The furniture was all clean lines, centered in a large, open living space that led to a kitchen and dining area. Of the two doors, one remained open, revealing a single bedroom and private bath. The east wall was solid glass.

  Logan noticed what caught my attention. “It’s one-way glass. It’s completely safe. No one even knows this place exists.”

  I looked up at him. “No one?”

  He pressed his lips. “Aern is the only one who knows where it is, but he wouldn’t expect me to bring you here.”

  His words brought abrupt understanding, and my hand automatically went toward the flutter in my stomach. I stopped it halfway, smoothing the hem of my shirt before sliding the hand into a back pocket. Unable to face him, I stared straight ahead, across the empty apartment into the open door of a bedroom—Logan’s bedroom—and was only reminded we were entirely alone. In his home.

  Chapter Eight

  Histories

  Logan gestured toward the open door, changing the subject before I had time for further reaction. “The bedroom, bath.” He abruptly turned toward the kitchen, remembering we’d left our dinner uneaten at Southmont. “Hungry?”

  I nodded numbly. “Sure. Thanks.”

  He walked past me to the kitchen, brushing the arm that was braced into my jeans pocket. I swallowed hard, and turned to follow him.

  Logan was at ease here, more casual than I’d seen him before. He rested an arm on the open pantry door, staring in as he decided on dinner. “There’s not much left,” he said, throwing an apologetic smile over his shoulder before reaching in for some canned vegetables. “I’ve not been here lately.”

  He left the door open as he shifted to place a saucepan on the stove, and I peered into the cabinet. Logan noticed my slow smile. “What is it?”

  I stared at the clear plastic jars with bright red lids. “Peanut butter.”

  He watched my smile for a heartbeat longer than was probably socially acceptable, and it faltered as that nervous thrill resurfaced. Logan returned his attention to the saucepan.

  I ran a finger over the dark granite counter top. “Is there something I can do?”

  He pursed his lips. “Actually, you could stir this while I go change.”

  “Sure,” I said, and watched in mock outrage as he turned down the burner. “You don’t trust me for five minutes?”

  One brow raised, and in that simple gesture he reminded me that I’d just grinned goofily over peanut butter. I chuckled despite myself.

  Logan was gone in an instant, leaving the bedroom door cracked as he washed up. I studied the pot in front of me, stirring mindlessly until I was once again on the verge of sleep. I stifled a yawn, and a hand on my waist startled me out of it.

  Logan took the spoon and gestured for me to sit. He was wearing a soft gray T-shirt, a bulge in the fabric hinting at a pistol tucked into the back of his broken-in jeans. He ladled out two bowls and brought them to the table, sitting beside me without so much as a word. It was nice, being with him, being near him. And Emily was with Aern. He would protect her. He would do anything he could. Despite the constant warnings, it felt safe. Safer than it had in a long time.

  “Brianna,” Logan said after I’d finished m
ost of my soup. “You’re asleep on your feet.” He slid out of his chair. “Come on.”

  I followed him to the bedroom door where he handed me my bag. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” he said, pointing toward the couch.

  “Thanks,” I replied, clutching the pack too tight against my chest.

  Logan pulled the door nearly closed behind him, leaving only a narrow strip of the living room visible from where I stood. He disappeared from view as he moved toward the kitchen to clean up dinner, so I walked slowly across the smooth, dark wood floors to the bath. I sat the bag on the sink, pulling my hair back to splash my face with cool water. When I reached for a towel, I noticed Logan’s shirt draped over the rack, which abruptly reminded me that I was in his house. Alone with him. I pressed the towel hard against my face, trying to blot out the remembered vision of our not-yet-happened kiss.

  It didn’t work.

  I ran a hand through my hair, pulling out the band as I made a face at my train of thought in the mirror. I needed to go to sleep. That was all.

  I unzipped the pack, reaching in to find that I had neglected to pack pajamas. A whispered curse slipped through my lips at the two sweatshirts and jeans. I really did need sleep. I glanced down at the shirt I’d been wearing, the one I’d have to wear tomorrow beneath my sweatshirt, and frowned. My gaze trailed to Logan’s shirt, then back to my own. It felt wrong, somehow, but I managed to convince myself I was being ridiculous. I tugged off my own clothes to place across the rack, and drew Logan’s too-big shirt over my head. It hung loose, draping me to about mid-thigh, and it smelled like him. A hand came up to bring the material closer to my face, but I stopped it, glaring at myself in the mirror as I clicked off the light. Ridiculous.

  I crossed the bedroom in the dim light from a small lamp on the table, leaving it on as I crawled beneath the charcoal gray comforter. The blankets were soft and warm, and the scent of Logan was everywhere. I lay still, listening for some sign of him in the front room, but there was nothing except the empty hum of silence. I tried counting. Reciting Latin. I even practiced breathing. But nothing worked. Eventually, I gave up, folding the blankets back to walk barefoot through the room.

  My eyes had adjusted to the light, and I followed the perimeter, trailing a finger over the edge of his dresser, across the top of a low side table, stopping midway to pick up a small metal sculpture. It was dull silver, like pewter, but heavier, with a rounded top that fit neatly into the palm of my hand. I cradled it there for a moment before reaching to place it back on its stand.

  My hand hovered over the table as the words came to me, welding themselves firmly in my mind. Another warning. Another version of the future.

  The words came less often than the visions, but they held more gravity. They hit with force, and my hand trembled, fumbling the metal to thunk on the table. I caught it before it had a chance to roll to the floor, setting it to rights just as the door swung open.

  Logan stood, hand on the lever, freezing as the sight of me unharmed prevented whatever rescue he’d been planning.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, indicating the sculpture as my apology trailed off.

  He looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

  I met his eyes, concerned that my clumsiness had not been the cause of his reaction, but it was not fear that held him there. It was something else. And then I remembered I was wearing his shirt. Only his shirt.

  In his bedroom.

  Logan’s fingers were tight on the lever; he stood stock still. His gaze didn’t shift from my face, but there was no question he’d noticed.

  I felt my bottom lip draw in, but stopped, clearing my throat. “I, uh …” I ran a hand over the hem of the shirt, cringing when it hit the bare skin of my legs too soon. “Sorry,” I said again.

  His other hand tightened on the door frame, as if it was holding him there.

  “I was just …” His jaw flexed, and I couldn’t help but recall his words from the hall, wonder if those were the words running through his mind. Is it now? I cleared my throat. “… going back to bed,” I managed.

  He nodded, seeming to recover himself, and pulled the door closed behind him. The latch touched frame, but didn’t click shut. It was a full minute before his footsteps receded.

  My hip fell to lean against the table, my heart pounding. Days, Brianna. You’ve known him for days.

  I’d eventually fallen asleep by placing a pillow over my head to smother the nonexistent sounds of silence. It had taken a while, given the new words of prophecy and my encounter with Logan, but he let me sleep until late morning, when the scent of pancakes made its way into the room. I splashed my face and pulled on a pair of jeans before hanging the borrowed shirt on the rack and replacing it with my navy blue sweatshirt.

  Logan didn’t look up at me when I came into the kitchen, so I took a stool at the narrow island behind him. He stacked three pancakes onto a plate and slid it across to me, not meeting my eyes as he turned back to clear the counter. He opened the refrigerator and checked the date on a box of juice before pouring it into a short glass. I had a forkful at my mouth when he sat down and finally, deliberately, looked at me.

  His hand flattened on the countertop. “When you’re ready, there are some documents we think might help.”

  I swallowed the too-big bite. “We?”

  “Aern. We discussed the problem you were having, and he’s agreed to give you access to the secured texts.” Logan shrugged a shoulder. “There probably isn’t much difference to what you’ve already seen, but anything we can do to help.”

  “The prophecy?” I whispered.

  He nodded, and purposefully looked away. I took one last big bite before hurrying to get my shoes. Halfway to the bedroom door, I remembered myself and turned to thank Logan for making breakfast. He was watching me, a dishtowel wadded beneath his hand on the counter, and I stumbled over the words in my haste.

  He waved it away. “Get your shoes, Brianna.”

  We were in the car within minutes, and I had a hard time sitting still. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what the prophecy said; I had learned it by heart before I could write. It was that I was finally going to see it. To touch that document, the indisputable proof that the words were in place a thousand years before I was born. I scrunched my nose. It was silly of me, I knew. The prophecy had been spoken in my own head, after all. But still, it mattered.

  “Wait, shouldn’t we be headed that way?” I asked when I realized the car had been traveling in the wrong direction from the city.

  “We aren’t going to Council,” Logan said.

  “But I thought …” I trailed off as Logan glanced at me, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

  “The documents were moved. To keep them safe. We’ll find them at the Adair house.”

  I recognized that name. Aern had sent a team there, the day Morgan had attacked the Division at Southmont. Brendan had been angry, certain his own men could protect the occupants of the house. He’d said they couldn’t spare their best team, but Aern had insisted. My gaze found Logan. “The others don’t know.”

  His jaw flexed. “There were three who knew, before the fighting. The case at the Council building holds a replica, and that version has always been regarded as the original. But the true text was hidden, passed down between the elders for safe-keeping for centuries.” He turned off the main road, taking a deserted lane lined with potted trees. “When the disputes boiled over, one of those elders was killed. And so it was passed on to a new protector.”

  I stared at him. He wasn’t only Morgan’s protector, he was responsible for the prophecy. “You said Aern agreed ...”

  “Things went bad. There are only two of us now. He and I.” He wet his lips before continuing, somewhat reluctant. “I know what you are, Brianna. I know you’re trying to save us. But it was just something I couldn’t do without Aern’s accord.”

  I nodded. “I understand.” He hadn’t needed to apologize for hiding the prophecy
from me. I had gone through my whole life keeping secrets. I was doing it still.

  Chapter Nine

  Prophecy

  We drove down a wooded lane, where the road turned toward a private park. Ivy climbed over a tall, wrought-iron fence that ran parallel to the path and then opened into an ornate double gate to the Adair house.

  Logan pulled the car around the building and we went in through a side entrance. It reminded me of the Southmont house, but the colors were lighter, more welcoming, and the furnishings a bit more modern. And, like all Division houses, it was fully stocked with well-dressed guards and attractive young staffers, whom we met right away. The guards, apparently recognizing Logan as a superior, simply gave us a small nod of acknowledgement before averting their eyes. A slim brunette in a business suit, however, marched toward us in her four inch designer heels.

  “Mr. Black,” she said, “we were not made aware of your visit.”

  Logan slid a hand onto my lower back to guide me in an attempt to evade her, but she adjusted course, determined to stop us in our path.

  She straightened the sleeve of her blazer without taking her gaze from us. “I’m certain Mr. Samuels will want to be informed of your itinerary. How long will you be staying?”

  “You can tell Brendan we’ll be here for two nights,” Logan said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Brianna has been suffering from a great lack of sleep.”

  The corner of her right eye twitched, but her expression did not change. “Miss Drake,” she said, tilting her head as she stepped aside.

  Logan pressed me forward, apparently eager to be out of the main areas of the house. We took a wide staircase to the second level and walked down a hall lined with doors.

  “We’re staying for two days?” I asked.

  One side of Logan’s mouth rose. “I said she could tell Brendan we’d be here for two days.” He glanced over his shoulder before stopping at the fifth door on the right. “I was trying to buy us some time.” He keyed the door open and ushered me inside. “We won’t have as long to work as I’d hoped.”