Fireblood (Fireblood 1)

Sebastian presses a hand to the gash on his face. “You bastard.”

“How?” Devlan shouts.

“Pull the lever to lower the voltage on Excalibur.” His eyes travel between Devlan and me. Blood seeps between his fingers. “With no juice, they’re just empty vessels.”

I step toward the open door to the control room, but before I reach it I see Devlan grip his chest and fall to his knees.

Oh, God.

I move toward Devlan, but Sebastian moves quicker and yanks me into his arms, enclosing me. He presses me against his chest, holding a knife to my throat.

Devlan’s eyes find mine, and I hold his gaze. “Power it down,” I tell him, forcing my voice to hold steady. “Get to your feet, Devlan. Power down the mainframe. They have to be stopped. Now.” I gasp as Sebastian slides the blade against my skin, drawing blood.

Devlan climbs to his feet. “Let her go.”

Sebastian breathes heavily against my ear. “There’s a syringe in the control room.” He presses the blade to my throat. “Inject yourself first, then I’ll let her go.”

I widen my eyes at Devlan, imploring him to pull the lever. He’s right there, so close to it. “Devlan,” I breathe his name. “Do what’s right. Duty first.”

His eyes close, and he takes two deep breaths, his hand pressing his chest. When his eyes open, their pale blue shimmers as they find my gaze. “I love you,” he says. “I choose you, Zara.” Then he steps inside the control room and grabs the syringe.

My heart stops.

He raises the needle to his arm, ready to inject the new strain of Virus—to allow Sebastian to control him.

He’s chosen me over the mission.

But I choose us.

I press my back into Sebastian’s chest, feigning weakness, and his body molds to mine. He holds me closer, as if he’s enjoying my suffering. While his attention is on Devlan, I snake my arm behind me and grab my father’s dagger from his belt.

I jab the blade into his thigh. With a cry, he releases me. I start toward Devlan, but Sebastian grabs a handful of my hair, jerking me backward. I scream and yank free, and the sound of hair tearing from my scalp fills my ears. I turn and face him, then drive the blade into his heart.

His eyes widen, and his lips move, silently questioning. He sputters out a strangled breath before he covers my hands with his. I hold onto the hilt with both hands, forcing the blade deeper. His blood spills over my skin. His eyes lock onto mine; their golden light dims.

I step back as he plummets to the ground, his hands now grasping the dagger. My eyes hold his a moment longer, making sure he’s gone. Devlan’s arms encircle me, and I fall into his embrace. We sink to the floor.

FORTY-TWO

I rest my forehead against Devlan’s and press my hands over his wound, trying to staunch the blood. It’s higher up on his chest than I thought—just below his collar bone. I lift up and look into his eyes. “Hold strong,” I say, then get to my feet.

I stumble into the control room and slam the lever down.

Pressing my hands against the glass wall, I hold my breath. Almost immediately, the Taken drop their weapons. They stand still—still as death. The Rebels that have survived glance around the field,

confused. Then cries sound over the battlefield, penetrating the thick walls of the chamber, and they raise their weapons into the air. I watch as they wrap their arms around the Taken, hugging their long-lost family and friends.

I take in a shaky breath, then a laugh tumbles from my mouth. I’m delirious, exhausted, beaten, and shaken, but the sight on the field fills me with so much elation that I nearly fall over.

“Oh, my God,” a voice says from inside the chamber. I turn and see Fallon leaning over Devlan.

My joyous mood vanishes. I limp over to Devlan and fall beside his splayed body. I run my hands through his hair, pleading for him to open his eyes.

When he doesn’t, I choke out a sob. I press my hand to his wound, bury my head between his neck and shoulder. Fallon is quiet beside me. I forget she’s there.

I rise up, hovering above him, and stare down. Then I brush my hand over his pale face. “You just admitted that you love me,” I whisper, barely audible, as my chest crushes my heart like a vise. “You’re not getting out of that.”

His chest rises, and a shallow breath escapes his mouth. Hope fills me, and I release a sob with a hiccup. It burns my throat. His lips curl into his beautiful smile, and I laugh with relief.