by Tara Quan
Her cheeks blanched. Even before she spoke, a chill went down Marcus’ spine. “Grandmother will call a Circle—her interpretation of the gladiatorial arena of ancient Rome. It serves as both entertainment and a warning. All members will be gathered in the central courtyard to watch me face an ever-increasing number of undead. The point is for them to see me torn apart limb from limb for failing to do what was required.”
The pensive expression on Dane’s face made Marcus’ blood run cold. The scenario Red described was ideal. They were both good enough tacticians to see it. But Dane was the only one who had the semblance of mind to speak. “All the children will be in one place, and everyone will be distracted. It’ll give us the perfect opportunity to take out the sentries and incapacitate the caretakers.”
With great difficulty, Marcus resisted the urge to punch his friend. “You can’t possibly be considering her proposal. For all you know, she’s coming up with the entire scheme so she can run in and warn her grandmother about us.”
Dane looked directly at him. “You trust her, and don’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise. You also know her plan will work.”
“It might get her killed,” Marcus spat out. “I’m not some fictional hero. I don’t care if hundreds of people I don’t know die as a result. Her life is the only one that matters.”
Red crossed her arms and turned. “Your faith in me is surprisingly low. You’ve seen me fight undead. I can hold them off until your team is in place, if need be. But that’s not what I’m proposing. A group of us have been planning a rebellion for years. Your appearance in the woods condensed our timeline, but we’re ready to fight. You don’t need to infiltrate the WITCH. We will secure the facility and return those children to you.”
Marcus didn’t bother trying to keep his voice down. “The injuries I’ve seen on you don’t exactly inspire confidence. Your little group of rebels, if they even exist, hasn’t lifted a finger to protect you this entire time. When we met, you had been sent to infiltrate a building full of undead. You had bruises, cuts, and stab wounds all over your body. You only recovered from them because of the enhanced cellular regeneration resulting from exposure to URV. Where were they then?” When she tried to move, he grabbed both her shoulders. “Their plan revolves around your public execution. Your safety is obviously the least of their concerns.”
She didn’t argue his point. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far if we didn’t take calculated risks. Everything is in place. Once the Circle is assembled, my friends will isolate the children and incapacitate the guards. This is an internal matter. You just need to stay out of our way.” Her head whipped to face Dane, who had gone unsettlingly quiet. “My help comes with one condition.”
“Name it.” The agent’s words threatened to snap the leash on Marcus’ temper.
“If what you claim is true, we won’t hesitate to return the children to their parents. But I was born in the WITCH, and many others joined it willingly. Once the dust settles, whether we want to stay in the wastelands or take our chances in the city should be our choice.”
Marcus clenched his jaw. If Red thought remaining here was an option, she had a surprise coming. But that was a conversation for another day.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Dane nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Marcus, let’s speak outside.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Marcus replied.
Dane’s icy expression gave Marcus a glimpse of the leader this man would one day be. “That’s tough shit. We’ve got a lot of logistical issues to sort out, and I’d rather not do it in your girlfriend’s presence. Move your ass and follow me.”
* * * *
“If you think I’m going along with this, you’re delusional,” Marcus roared the moment he finished bolting the cottage door.
Dane continued to stride into the woods. To Marcus’ surprise, none of their men were around. The agent had come alone. “It’s the best plan we’ve got and you know it. If we let this rebellion play itself out, we have a chance at a no-casualty scenario. If they fail, the ensuing chaos is to our advantage.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Marcus bit out. “If Nel was the one offering to put her neck on the chopping block, you wouldn’t consider the plan either.”
“Luckily for me, my wife is safe inside the city’s walls.” Dane stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “Look, I’ve been there. The best tactical decision doesn’t always feel right—especially not when it involves someone you care about. Nel almost died once because I followed protocol. Take emotion out of the equation and think. Her plan is risky, but it’s the best one we’ve got.”
Marcus combed his fingers through his hair. “Don’t preach to me about risk-reward calculations. I won’t lose her. I can’t lose her. If it means the damn cult burns to the ground with everyone in it, then that’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
Dane shook his head. “You talk a good game, but I know you better than that. You’ll do the right thing. More importantly, you’ll do what she wants.”
Marcus snorted. “You’re out of touch with reality. I’m no hero, and I have no intention of starting now.”
The agent’s eyes narrowed. “I never said you were. Your girl’s the one who’s about to have that claim to fame. All you need to do is get out of her way.”
“The woman,” Marcus argued, “is completely incapable of figuring out what’s in her best interest. She needs someone to keep her safe.”
Dane grabbed Marcus’ arm. Their gazes bore into each other. Marcus didn’t flinch. He rarely backed down, and he was the one with someone precious at stake.
In the end, it was Dane who relented. “We don’t have to follow her plan verbatim. You can lead a team and go in half an hour behind her. The rebellion is a welcome variable. We just need to form a strategy around it.”
Chapter 12
“Why did you come back?” Her grandmother seemed genuinely curious. The lines on the corners of her eyes and mouth deepened. Her brows were furrowed. Scarlet had managed to surprise her. Precious few did so and lived to tell the tale.
Scarlet glanced at the straitjacketed woman sitting on the dais behind Eleanor. She couldn’t profess to love a mother she barely knew. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall Mary’s voice. The woman’s break with reality had happened when Scarlet was too young. Her concern for Mary’s safety was a pale shadow of the burning emotions that once consumed her. Yet Scarlet’s answer wasn’t entirely a lie. “My mother shouldn’t have to die because I failed you.”
Her grandmother’s baby-soft hand brushed her cheek. Eleanor had never needed to do much herself. It didn’t make the woman any less lethal. She had a talent for making others do her dirty work. “And now you’ll die to save my daughter. How poetic.”
Scarlet glimpsed a flicker of lucidity in Mary’s eyes. It was as if reality had broken through the shield of denial for just a moment. But before she could be certain, all trace of it was gone. Her mother’s face remained the blank canvas it had been for over a decade. “My blood is on your hands. I’ll die because hatred consumes your every waking breath.”
Eleanor held her free hand in the air. Within moments, Belle placed a small blade on her palm. “You’ve always been a little fool. No matter how far I sent you, you raced back to me like a dog on a leash. It was as if you thought your paltry offerings would buy your way into my heart.”
Scarlet shook her head. “I stopped being that delusional a long time ago. I came back because this is my home. Even though you’ve turned it into a living hell, there are people here worth saving.”
The blade’s tip scratched her neck. Even if Scarlet’s hands weren’t bound, she wouldn’t have resisted. The Circle had been assembled. The gate to the arena was a few steps away. Countless eyes were watching. This was just for show.
Scarlet focused on steadying her breaths. The faster her heart rate, the shallower she inhaled, the more blood she would lose. Her stomach wound wasn’t deep. Belle�
��s stab hadn’t hit any major organs. But the blood loss would slowly strip away her strength. To the audience, Scarlett’s death would be at the jaws of the undead. Only Eleanor’s protectors knew the game was rigged for a single outcome. The real monster was the woman facing her.
“Since I’m about to die, I want to know—why do you hate her so much?”
It was as if something evil and dark slithered in the depths of her grandmother’s green eyes. The woman drew another line of blood over Scarlet’s skin. “Why does the answer matter?”
Scarlet hissed out a pained breath. The longer she remained here, the more time she gave her comrades to get in place, the better their chances of success. She could only hope she would live to see whether the plan came to fruition. “Your obsession shaped my life. I saw it. I sensed it. But I never understood it. What did she do to deserve everything you’ve done?”
For the first time in her life, Scarlet saw her grandmother’s lips curve into a genuine smile. “I’ve been quite successful, haven’t I? From the day you were born, Mary has watched you suffer. Now she’ll watch you die. It’s too bad it couldn’t be you and Angela both.” The maniacal expression on the doll-like face made the hairs on the back of Scarlet’s neck stand on end. It was a wonder so few saw the flaw in Eleanor’s psyche—the dark fire that had long since consumed their leader’s heart.
Her grandmother’s fist landed on Scarlet’s stomach and dug into her wound. For a few moments, Scarlet’s vision blurred from the pain. “Tell me why you did it. Tell me why you hate her this much.”
The old woman leaned in and whispered into her ear. “She is the product of my worst nightmare. Every time I see her face, every time I look into those eyes, I see him laughing back at me. The man who spawned her left me bloodied, broken, and begging for death. By the time I’m through with your mother, she’ll wish she was never born.”
Scarlet wanted to scream, but her voice was barely above a whisper. “She already does. She’s been doing that for as long as I can remember.”
Her grandmother straightened and patted Scarlet’s shoulder. “And she’ll continue to do so for as long as I breathe.”
“And how will you do that once you’ve killed me?” A younger and more innocent part of Scarlet still believed her grandmother didn’t want her dead. Her grown self knew Eleanor’s mercy had shriveled away decades ago.
The old woman pinched Scarlet’s cheek. “Clever girl. You’ve always been too clever for comfort. That’s why you’re my favorite.”
Scarlet’s chest tightened. The gesture brought back memories of years past. In her grandmother’s mind, the line between love and hate so often blurred. “Your daughter stopped being my mother when I was eight years old. I haven’t heard her say my name in fifteen years. You raised me. Do you really want me gone?”
Her grandmother’s laughter sounded like nails scraping over glass. “My life won’t be the same without you. But time is running out. You know it better than anyone here. I’ve spent my life creating this place, and I will die when it all crumbles and falls. Before then, your mother will watch you torn to pieces.”
Their gazes locked. Scarlet couldn’t help but wonder at the memory that had tainted what could have been her family. “What did that man do to you all those years ago?”
Eleanor’s frail shoulders lifted and fell. “He did enough to make me taste bile whenever I see his eyes on your mother’s face. He did enough to make me want to slice off her flesh piece by piece until all trace of him is gone.”
“That’s why you’ve always hated Angie more.” The tears Scarlet had held back until now finally fell. “I have your eyes. I have your hair. I have your face. She looks just like Mother.”
One corner of Eleanor’s mouth quirked up and down in an erratic tic. “You have no idea how tempted I was to shove ash down that child’s throat the day she was born. I couldn’t resist the temptation with all the ones who came after. You were the only grandchild I could love.”
Scarlet felt the cold clutches of despair surround her heart. “You see what you want to see—memories of a monster layered over the people who care for you. By making our lives a living hell, you’ve let him win over and over again.”
* * * *
“You’d better not pull that trigger.” Dane’s command threatened to make Marcus’ blood boil.
“This has gone on long enough,” Marcus hissed. “She’s injured, and they just shoved five more undead through those gates.” The Circle was a dirt arena surrounded by a chain-link fence. There were two gates—Red had stumbled in from one end, and undead funneled through the other. The cult’s leader sat on an elevated platform not far from the main gate. A woman wearing a straitjacket crouched on the floor behind her. Several hundred onlookers gathered around the spectacle. Not one made a move to stop it.
“She’ll be fine.” Dane’s voice held a hint of sympathy. “She’s moving slowly to buy her people time. I can see them getting into position behind the clusters of children. Everything is happening according to the plan she described.”
Marcus’ gaze didn’t leave Red’s moving form. “I’ve seen her fight. I can tell she has a stomach wound. They must have patched her up so the blood wouldn’t show. She’s getting less precise by the minute, and she’s letting those brain-eaters get too close to her.”
“The team isn’t in position. If you act now, it’ll trigger chaos. Children will die.” Dane placed his hand on Marcus’ shoulder and squeezed. “She’s hanging in there. I swear we’ll get her back to the city in one piece.”
“Keeping her safe is my priority,” Marcus warned in a low menacing voice. “The moment she’s in danger, I’ll fire. Here’s some unsolicited advice—factor me into the equation or watch your plans go to hell.”
* * * *
Scarlet weaved to the right and swung her blade in an arc, severing an undead’s head. It was becoming impossible to focus. Her vision was blurred by sweat and blood. Her heart was beating so fast she felt like retching. Her arms and legs felt heavy. The time lag between her thoughts and actions was becoming untenable.
What was taking Belle so long?
The execution had started with a single undead. Scarlet had drawn out the kill for as long as she could, knowing it would gain her nothing. The release of brain-eaters into the Circle occurred at timed intervals—unless she did something stupid like killing one ahead of schedule.
It had been a surprising relief when dual knives were shoved into her hands at the gate. She had recognized the brown-eyed girl who had cut her loose. Ella was one of the caregivers who had trained alongside Angie. The girl had a good heart and more courage than Scarlet imagined possible. Without her, they wouldn’t have known where the children would be positioned once the Circle was called.
If her gamble weren’t so close to playing out, Scarlet would be more worried about Ella’s safety. There was no doubt in her mind Eleanor had seen what transpired. If her grandmother managed to hold on to power after this attack, Ella would pay for this kindness with her life.
Scarlet heard the metallic clanging that signaled the gate’s opening. She shook her head in an attempt to clear the fog. Eight undead added to the three already inside. She was running behind, and it wasn’t on purpose. The blood seeping from her wound was draining away her strength. Each movement brought her a step closer to collapse.
She stumbled and fell. Gunfire startled her as she struggled to rise to her knees. She whipped her head around to face the main gate. All eyes were on the elevated platform that housed her grandmother.
A gravelly voice cut through the silence—it was familiar yet unrecognizable. “If they lay a hand on my daughter, your leader dies.”
Scarlet’s eyes grew wide. She could hardly believe what she saw. Eleanor had been taken captive, but not by Belle or anyone in the rebellion. Mary had not only freed herself from the straitjacket but had somehow acquired a shiv. With a weapon pressed against their leader’s throat, her grandmother’s personal guards
were frozen in place.
Belle held a pistol in each hand. Scarlet heard ten more shots. She didn’t need to turn around to know the bullets were buried in each undead’s head. Belle’s skill with the weapon was unparalleled. It was why she had been chosen to protect Eleanor.
Scarlet released a shaky breath. The situation was on a razor’s edge, and the shock would soon wear off. Without hesitation, she ran to the gate. Ella was already cutting away the padlock.
They raced up the steps to the platform together. The other guards had drawn their weapons. Their firearms were pointed in Belle’s direction. These were the WITCH’s elite soldiers, and one of their own had been too quick to break protocol. Belle had been identified as the greatest danger, not the deranged woman holding a makeshift blade to Eleanor’s throat.
As Scarlet reached Belle’s side, she marveled at the surrounding silence. The rebels had carried out their objectives to varied degrees of success. She turned to see sentries slumped at their posts and caregivers unconscious on the ground. But some of the soldiers had managed to get away. Their weapons were pointed at the few dozen women who had formed a circle around the crowd. Despite the tension, no one said a word. The nonaligned members hadn’t chosen a side.
Scarlet needed to trust her friends to handle themselves. The main threat had always been the cadre of fighters charged with protecting her grandmother. Belle might be one of the best marksmen the WITCH had ever seen, but even she couldn’t face off a score of the fighting elite.
Mary broke the silence. “Move and she dies.” Her gaze was alert and directed at the guards. “I’ve dreamed of killing my mother for decades. I’m the one you need to worry about.”
Scarlet’s fingers closed around the pistol Belle shoved into her hand. With her and Ella there, the odds still weren’t in Belle’s favor. But three was better than one.
Leveling her gaze at her grandmother’s personal guards, Scarlet asked, “Why are you protecting her?”