The Choice (The Gamble Series Book 2)

by Kathryn Jacques

  “Oof!” I’m so consumed by the trouble swirling through my mind, I don’t realize Ryder has stopped walking and blown out the lantern until I plow into him.

  “Shh!” he commands and I can only assume he glares at me even though I can’t see anything in the darkness as my eyes adjust to the loss of lantern light. “There’s people up ahead, ‘bout two hundred yards.”

  I’d love to know how he can possibly assess whether or not there are people so far ahead in the quiet blackness of the woods, but I also know he’s far more adept at this than I’ll ever be.

  “They’re comin’ this way,” he whispers, leaning down so he can speak against my ear.

  “Is it the League? Do we hide? How many are there?” Questions pour from my lips, one after another until he places a giant hand over my mouth to silence me.

  “Probably. No. And it sounds like two. I imagine the League has teams wanderin’ the woods tryin’ to figure out where we all ran off to. Or they know we’re with the Risers now and are comin’ to see what they’re up against.”

  Now I can hear them, soft footsteps crunching on the dense underbrush, the faint snap of a tree branch or rustle of leaves. If I hadn’t known to stop and listen, I’d have strolled right into them.

  With terror plastered over my face, blood frozen in my veins, I cast a hurried glance at Ryder.

  “This would be a good time to put your finger on the trigger,” he directs, his gruff voice so quiet I almost can’t hear him at all. I switch to the trigger, my hand quaking at the thought I might be killing another person tonight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The tension hovering over us fills the air, oppressive and dense. I shift nervously until Ryder shoots me a look that freezes me in place.

  “Don’t do anythin’ till I say otherwise,” he instructs, though I almost can’t hear him over the chaotic thrashing of my heart.

  Personally, I’d rather just turn and run away, but they’ll definitely hear me crashing through the woods like a lunatic. And what if they follow us back to the Risers’ compound? I’ll never risk my friends like that.

  With a grip on my arm, Ryder twists us into the shadows of the trees as two figures materialize along the thin path, almost invisible in their black clothing.

  “I swear I heard voices,” one says, the deep voice and wide shoulders identifying him as a man. Judging by the petit size of the other person, it’s unquestionably a woman. I can tell by their military-like clothing that they’re League, but they seem more uncertain and less confident than the other League scouts I’ve dealt with, like they’re unaccustomed to patrolling the woods in the dark. Maybe they’re newbies since we killed so many of the better-trained patrols. At least we have one thing going for us. Plus, I’m with Ryder. He’s the equivalent of three well-trained League members.

  But even with him beside me, a thick, muscular arm locked around my body and pinning me to the tree so I’m guarded from any stray gunfire, I can still feel the fear and alarm unfurl up through my chest. If I had a choice, I’d rather deal with the Gendarme officers every day for the remainder of my life than ever confront a League member again.

  Of course, as luck would have it…

  As the two people pass, unaware of our presence, Ryder slides from behind the tree, fluid and lithe. I follow, praying I don’t make any noise by stepping on a twig or smacking a shin into a rock or some other stupid mistake. My silence doesn’t matter though because a half second later I hear the now unpleasantly familiar click of a gun cocking.

  Ryder, finger on the trigger, has leveled his weapon at the back of the man’s head. “I suggest you don’t move.”

  Both League members halt and stiffen, their tension visible even in the poor moonlight that manages to infiltrate the trees. With a hefty sigh, I lift and cock my gun too, aiming for the woman.

  Please don’t let me have to kill anyone tonight. I can’t handle any more death, even if it is the League. I’m tired of washing blood from my hands only to have it return in my nightmares.

  The man reaches for his own gun and Ryder nudges the barrel of his weapon into the base of the man’s skull. “Nope. Now drop your weapons,” Ryder commands, his voice booming and authoritative and sounding almost exactly like my father.

  Neither move. Ryder jams his gun harder into the man’s neck, causing him to flinch. “I said drop them!”

  Guns clatter to the ground as the man and woman raise their now empty hands over their heads.

  “There’s more of us out here,” the man sneers.

  “Fantastic. If we happen to come across any that seem more interestin’, I’ll just shoot you and take them,” Ryder replies coolly. I have no doubt he will. I wonder, though, where he intends to take these two people. Back to the Risers’ boarding-school-turned-compound? Is that safe, or even wise? Where will we put them and what use does he think two League members will be anyway? But we can’t just kill them and we definitely can’t let them go. A million questions collide through my brain, but I don’t want to ask Ryder and make the League minions think we’re unplanned and unprepared. Or that I’m an idiot.

  “Now, we’re gonna start walkin’ and if either of you try anything funny, Kelsey here is gonna shoot you in the leg. I’m sure you know who she is by now and that she’s already killed four of your people in the brief time she’s been on the surface. At that rate, her track record will be better than mine within a year.”

  Both captives regard me with interest and I try to look menacing, scowling the way Jax did when he once stood before Elijah in my defense. I hope I look intimidating.

  Without warning, the man’s right arm lashes out, catching the tip of Ryder’s gun. The weapon fires, but with Ryder taken off guard, it now aims at the sky. From a nearby tree, birds shriek and scatter as the bullet tears through several leaves, sending a flurry of leafy remains fluttering to the ground.

  Striking again, the man catches Ryder in the throat directly above his Adam’s apple. Ryder staggers backward, choking and gasping for air as his eyes bulge and one hand flies to his neck.

  The woman dives at me, arms outstretched and before I can react or just have a moment to think, I’ve fired my gun. She recoils and topples into a thick tree trunk with a howl of pain. Even in the darkness, I see the shimmer of blood as it pumps from her shoulder and spills down her armor; a black, wet, dancing ribbon.

  I whip around to face the men, leveling my gun in time to see Ryder land a fist square to the League man’s jaw. The man drops to his knees, shaking his head in disorientation and spitting blood to the ground. Ryder adjusts his gun, holding it directly against the man’s forehead and I suck in my breath, wanting to look away, but unable to do so, dread filling me with cement and holding me steadfast and solid.

  I’m suddenly reminded of Ashlynn, the way the bullet exploded through her head that night Daniel was killed. I wince at the gruesome image ingrained in my mind. One I will never forget

  “What the hell did I just say?” Ryder demands, his voice raspy from the man’s blow, but somehow still calm, though now a harsh coldness laces his words.

  “Do it,” the man says, glaring up at Ryder in defiance, the same defiance I once showed Elijah knowing he’d probably kill me no matter what I said or did. It’s the strength of someone ready to die when no other options are left. The understanding that sometimes death is better than whatever else the future might hold.

  Ryder’s gun clicks as he re-cocks the trigger and my body turns cold as I watch in horror. Surely Ryder wouldn’t, not an unarmed prisoner. But his face remains impassive and terror grips at my heart. The world around me tunnels, the League man’s face all I can see as I realize I will watch him die.

  Then Ryder changes his aim and fires, hitting the man in the same shoulder in which I shot the woman. The man grunts and falls against the earth, one hand clutching the wound as he writhes and kicks at the ground with his legs. A string of curse words launches from his lips.

  “Good call on shooting
their shoulders, Kelsey,” Ryder says. “If we shoot ‘em in the leg then they can’t walk. I wasn’t even thinkin’. Now, both of you get up and if you try anythin’ stupid like that again, the next bullet really does go in your head.”

  I can only stare in horrified shock. Not at the injured man, but at Ryder, who pulled the trigger and wounded someone who knelt unarmed and defenseless before him. I know it’s the League and I know they attacked us first, but this fight was over, we were safe. Shooting our prisoner, that was just out of spite. It’s something the bad guy does, something I watched Sawyer and Elijah do, but not something my friends are supposed to do. Not when we’re supposed to be the good guys. Without realizing, I inch backward, away from Ryder.

  The League woman sobs, but the League man grits his teeth against the burning pain, rising to his feet and yanking the woman to hers.

  “Grab their guns, kiddo,” Ryder says. I don’t move, too horrified to do anything other than stare.

  “Kid!” Ryder growls. “I said grab their guns.”

  I shove my thoughts of disgust aside and scramble for the two extra weapons, swinging both over my shoulder and around my back before retraining my own gun on our prisoners. The added weight forces me to lean at an uncomfortable angle, but Ryder has already begun to head towards the new compound, our prisoners staggering ahead of him.

  I follow at a distance, not wanting to be too close to a man who shoots people for no reason. Within minutes, my arm grows sore and tired from holding my weapon steady, but I refuse to allow the gun to waiver so much as an inch. I hope Ryder doesn’t notice my apprehension of our captives. Even with him here, and the knowledge that he will only allow the League to take me over his dead body, it doesn’t appease my nerves. They’ve killed over much less, and my views on Ryder have suddenly shifted.

  Ryder guides us through the woods in silence. If our male prisoner told the truth and there are other League members in the woods tonight, we don’t encounter them. Eventually the large brick building I left earlier comes into view, a tiny beacon of golden candlelight on the first floor.

  As usual, guards are stationed out front and patrolling the edge of the forest. As we approach and they see we have prisoners, one immediately rushes inside calling for Nole and Charlie. The other, an older man with a complexion as dark as Daniel’s, frowns. “And what exactly are we supposed to do with them?”

  “Whatever Nole and Charlie deem best,” Ryder replies, prodding the League members with his gun and forcing them to kneel. Both glower, but drop to the ground upon seeing little room to argue. Sweat beads along their pale, grey-tinged skin. They’ve lost a lot of blood and I’m sure they’re in a lot of pain. Without medical attention, it’s possible Nole and Charlie won’t have to decide what to do.

  “I don’t like it,” the other man replies, lips drawn into a tight line and eyebrows knit together, but he says nothing else and moments later Nole and Charlie appear on the front steps, backlit from the lanterns hanging inside.

  “Found ‘em about a mile away in the woods,” Ryder says. “I shot one, Kelsey shot the other. They’ll need to see Camrie if we plan to keep ‘em alive.”

  Nole looks at both our prisoners, then at me, the hint of amusement glittering in his jet-black eyes. “Well, this is an interesting role reversal.”

  “This whole surface adventure is just one interesting episode after another,” I reply with an exasperated sigh, lowering my gun and offering the two weapons we took off the League members to a nearby guard.

  “I guess we should lock them up somewhere,” Charlie says, lifting an eyebrow in Nole’s direction as if seeking approval.

  He shrugs. “Up to you. The League has been terrorizing your people far more than mine these last few weeks and it’s your team that caught them.”

  Charlie steps closer to the prisoners, brushing long, auburn hair from her face. “If we keep them here, Sawyer will send more to get them back.”

  “Sawyer’s sending men to find us anyway,” Ryder announces. “I figure it’s why these clowns were in the woods in the first place.”

  The small crowd that has started to form shifts with unease and a few sideways glances. With a slight nod, Charlie chews her thin bottom lip. “And if we kill them, Sawyer will add it to his list of reasons for revenge against us, which seems to have already grown quite long.”

  “So? Like I said, they’re comin’ either way,” Ryder says again.

  Everyone is silent for several tense moments as we watch Charlie. I can’t understand how she must feel, weighing the safety of her people against killing two others in cold blood. With them both injured and weaponless, it would no longer be in self-defense but would become an execution, something I can’t foresee Charlie ever being able to justify. I hope she doesn’t, I hope she lets them live. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t have a second person tonight make me question the side on which I stand. We aren’t the League and we aren’t ROC. We can’t execute people for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Several curious Risers and some of our own compound members have stepped from the apartment. Behind this growing group of people I don’t know, I see the shiny black hair of Randolph and Evy… standing beside Jax.

  A twinge of sadness passes through me at the knowledge he didn’t come running to my side, that I wouldn’t have known he were there at all if I hadn’t scanned the small throng forming. His eyes catch mine and I hastily look away. What do I expect from him anyway after what I’ve done? Of course he doesn’t want to be with me.

  Everyone talks in hushed whispers, eyes darting between Charlie, Nole and our captives. I catch pieces of individual debates. Most don’t want the League members to live, and no one looks happy at all that Ryder brought them here.

  Then a figure brushes through the crowd and my stomach flip-flops when I recognize Rey’s golden hair.

  Stepping forward and circling around Ryder, he moves to stand beside me, his fingers lacing into mine. Without hesitation, I shake him off, jamming my hands into my pockets, his presence beside me causing more anxiety than comfort. The hurt on his face tear at my insides. I refuse to meet his gaze, instead casting a nervous glance at Jax, whose face has darkened into a deep scowl. So now everyone’s mad at me. At least I’m consistent.

  I assume Jax will storm away, but Charlie begins to speak again and everyone turns their attention to her.

  “I’m not executing two people, whatever some of you may think, so we might as well lock them up.”

  “Seriously?” a man demands, fury written on his features. “After everything the League has done to us?”

  “Yes, seriously. If you have a problem with it, Nathan, I’m happy to discuss it privately.”

  The man spits on the ground at the League’s feet. “Weak. That’s what you’re becoming, ever since that damn Sub showed up.”

  “Hey!” Nole shouts, but the man, Nathan, has already stormed away, several others following him in solidarity, all casting furious looks at Charlie over their shoulders.

  “Let him go,” Charlie says with a flick of her hand. “There’s no point arguing with anyone over this, he’s entitled to his opinion. Meanwhile, we can use the guys as hostages when Elijah and his men figure out where Kelsey and the rest of my compound are hiding. I have no illusions that it won’t be soon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  People glance at each other as Charlie voices what we don’t want to admit. Some eye the woods with trepidation. With the League already patrolling the area, we can’t argue another battle stalks closer to our doorstep. After our last attack, we’d be lying to ourselves if we say we didn’t see this coming. Not that it makes the idea sit any better in my head.

  Jax shifts from the crowd, ignoring my presence as if I have somehow gone invisible in the last few minutes. It’s so infuriating I’m tempted to jump in front of him and knock him on the nose or yell and scream until he acknowledges that I’m standing right here.

  “Randolph and I will take them to
the basement,” he offers. “We can take first watch.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Randolph grumbles with a look of discontent, but pulls his gun forward and prods at the League man. “Let’s go, buddy.”

  “Hold on!” someone barks and it takes me a second to realize it’s Rey. He moves forward to stand between Jax and Charlie, brow furrowed. “These people nearly killed Kelsey. Twice. And you want to just lock them up? What if they escape? And what do we do when the League arrives anyway? It’s time to come up with a plan rather than protect the enemy. I’m not going to sit around and watch Kelsey placed in danger a third time with the League. I say we shoot them.”

  I’m rendered speechless at Rey’s actions and his words, so out of character from the goofy, kind Rey I grew up with. The Rey that willingly added his number to the Gamble hundreds of times so others could survive, regardless of the outcome to himself. He’d never advocate to kill anyone, but this new Rey, I don’t know what to think of him as he stands tall before Charlie.

  “That’s not really your choice to make,” Nole says, voice stern and even.

  Rey flips around, showing no intimidation from Nole. “Why not? It’ll affect me won’t it? I’m one of you now. So is Kelsey. Shouldn’t we all vote on what happens to these two?”

  Charlie’s brow furrows. “There’s plenty I allow my people to vote on, but this won’t be one of those things. Not with emotions as high as they are right now around here. At the end of the day, my compound is not a democracy.”

  “So it’s a dictatorship?” Rey demands. “Awesome. The surface isn’t any better than ROC. A handful of people deciding they know what’s best for everyone while putting all out lives in danger.”