The Offering (The Pledge 3)

I looked down at my hand, still clenched tightly around the hilt and now smeared in blood that seemed to cover everything. My mouth went dry. I thought I might be sick right there . . . on his corpse.

You’ve killed before, Sabara whispered, her taunt as vicious as those that had come from the man I stood above. You’ll kill again. It’s who you are. It’s who we are.

But she was wrong. I’d killed, yes. But never with my bare hands.

I’d never felt someone take their last breath.

I’d never had blood on my hands.

“No,” I said, closing my eyes and releasing the handle of the blood-covered knife. “I’m not you. I’m not you.”

When I glanced up, I saw Eden.

I barely registered that she wasn’t alone, that she was flanked on either side by soldiers wearing the same ravenfaced masks as the man I’d just killed. I hardly saw the other soldiers, those whose bodies littered the hillside behind Eden and our enemies.

I was tempted, so incredibly tempted, to draw from Sabara’s powers to save her, but I couldn’t take the risk that Sabara would overtake me once more.

I might have blinked, or I might not have, when one of Eden’s captors saw me there, my hands covered in the blood of his fallen comrade, and he released his grip on her. I was in his sights.

Me. He was after me now.

Run, I heard Eden’s words repeat in my head. Run, run, run!

I let go of the knife, which was still stuck in his neck, and with no other thought than reaching the VAN, I ran as fast as I could. There wasn’t much distance between me and the soldier behind me, but there also wasn’t much distance between me and the VAN.

Ten steps . . .

Five . . .

Two . . .

I launched myself up the steps and shoved my shoulder against the closed door. It opened inward—the way it did—and I exhaled as I tumbled inside, landing in a heap on the floor.

Without looking over my shoulder, I reached up and punched the button with my fist, the one that would close the door again. I needed to keep him out for only a second. Just long enough to reach the weapons cache in back.

Long enough to arm myself.

I leapt to my feet, hopeful that I’d made it. I was safe at last.

And then a voice stopped me cold. “That was impressive. I had no idea you had that in you.” I recognized it immediately, but even if I hadn’t, Sabara had.

My entire body started to tingle, starting in the pit of my belly and spreading outward. It was a reaction that made tears burn my eyes.

They weren’t my tears, however. They were hers.

I loathed her. For this and a million other reasons, I loathed her.

But it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the one holding me captive inside my own body.

“Niko,” I gasped, confused to find him here, inside the VAN. “What are you doing here?” I tried to think past Sabara’s response to him. I shoved past him. It didn’t matter why he was here. He was here and he could help. “Elena’s soldiers are out there, and they have Eden. We have to get to the guns.”

I reached the place where the crates of munitions had been carefully packed and stowed.

They were open now, the packing materials strewn everywhere and the weapons missing, as if they’d been pillaged in our absence. I dug through the shredded paper, searching in vain for a gun or a dagger or a bow. Anything.

My heart was racing, this time not at all because of Sabara or Niko.

Outside, I realized the soldier wasn’t even trying to gain entrance. He hadn’t even tried the door.

I glanced back over my shoulder to where Niko was contemplating me.

“Get up, Charlaina.” His voice was quiet, tender even. “Wh-what are you doing?”

He withdrew a gun from behind his back and sighed. He was still watching me with his familiar golden eyes—eyes I’d dreamed of more than once. And for a moment—just for a moment—I could almost believe he meant it when he said, “I’m sorry I have to do this.”

brooklynn It was the last thing Brook had ever expected.

The attack by the bird-faced warriors.

Eden unleashing her rounds into the knolls as Charlie sprinted across the plain, trying to escape to the VAN.

And then Charlie . . . her defensive skills. Battling a combatant at least twice her size.

Where the hell had she learned moves like those? When had she become someone who could kill in cold blood?

She’d watched it all from her perch near the top of the hill. She hadn’t even made it to the cave.

Had she thought she had a chance, she’d have joined the fray. Helped Charlie and Eden defend against their attackers.

But they were outnumbered, plain and simple. The strategist in her warned her to wait it out. To stay where she was and observe. To let this battle play out so she could plan her countermeasure.

Battles weren’t won by responding rashly. They were won by outmaneuvering your opponent. By staying one step ahead. Keeping a clear head.

That was what Brook needed now, a clear head.

If only she hadn’t witnessed that other part, that last thing, where she’d seen Niko walking Charlie out of the VAN, a gun aimed directly at the back of her head.

Niko . . . that swine! She rolled his traitorous name around and around in her head, wondering how they’d ever trusted him. How they’d ever allowed him to accompany Xander to Elena’s queendom in the first place. They should’ve known better, especially since Charlie had revealed what he truly was.

Brook didn’t know what he was up to—or why he appeared to be working in tandem with Elena’s soldiers—but if he was involved in this, it was no good.