For the Clan Page 16

  "No." Roan leaned forward and cupped her cheek. "No. You don't stay. You leave. Your place is with everyone else. You have to guide them. Jace can't right now, so you need to. Be his wife in everything that means and do what he can't. That's what he's trusting you with. That's what you need to do."

  He walked around the table and took her hands. Cayra's fingers trembled against his palms. "You need to get out of here." Roan squeezed her hands until they steadied. "Get everyone to Windsor Eight. Set up camp. You know what needs to be done. You need to be Clan Leader. You need to be your father's daughter. Save the family you have, the way you couldn't for Deliverance. I'll stay here with everyone who's fighting. When the smoke clears, I'll get them to Windsor."

  Unwilling to wait for her answer, he kissed her just as she took a breath. Cayra slumped into him, exhaling with a groan. If she wanted to argue, he didn't want to hear it. She had other things to worry about. Things she likely didn't realize he knew.

  Roan hugged her waist. Residual magic around his fingers numbed his hands, feeding on an unseen source. His back twitched again, his insides alternating between hot and cold. If he were in his right mind, he would've stepped away from her.

  Instead he held her tighter, grateful that she didn't turn him away. She didn't hate him as much as she seemed to think she should.

  "Don't you dare leave us," she whispered. "You'd better come back alive. Lose a few pieces if you have to, but you get home. Don't you dare break our hearts."

  "I love how it's 'our'. After earlier, I thought you'd be done with me."

  "They didn't change things as much as I thought they had," Cayra admitted, tensing before sighing. "I was reacting. I didn't know how to handle it. And with you there, and him like that, I couldn't help it. But then I see you like this… You're not okay. You're doing too much too fast. It's hurting you. I can't just ignore it and believe you don't care." She pulled back to look at him, her smile crooked. "I have too much to thank you for. Had you and Jace never been through everything, I wouldn't have ever had him, not like he is. I owe you a little faith at least."

  "Funny," Roan said, leaning his forehead against hers, "I figured I owed you."

  "For what? Letting you and him be together?"

  "More than that. You took care of him when I wasn't there. You gave him someone. Without you, I probably wouldn't have had anything to come back to." Roan caressed Cayra's cheeks with his thumbs. "Which is why you can't stay longer than you need to. You have to go, get a head start. You can't be here when they come."

  "But you need help. I can't shoot, but I can do other things. I'm not stupid. Just because I hate these things doesn't make me useless."

  "No, it doesn't." Taking a breath, Roan rested his hand on her hip. A blast of energy surged through him. Beneath his touch, something stirred. Images of white light and red irises in a small, round face filled his thoughts. Magic connected to magic. "But you've got more than just yourself to worry about now. You can't go around being the hero you think you should be. Heroes have to pay a price. And in your case, it's a price you'll be horrified to pay. It'll tear you apart. It won't be worth it. Give the baby the best chance to survive."

  Cayra's eyes widened. She stepped back but didn't leave his embrace. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Exactly what you know it does. There's no point in either of us pretending."

  "So you know," she murmured.

  "Probably before you did." Roan slid his palm to her stomach, ignoring the pain raging through his head, pummeling the inside of his skull. His mind screamed, telling him to pull away and save himself the agony, but he was drawn to her. The child would be a Ven, he knew that much. Other than the magic the fetus already possessed, the rule of Ven genetics dictated their genes dominated, no matter who they procreated with. Their DNA overrode all others when it came to the offending alleles and sequences that made them a separate race.

  Despite everything he'd said to Jace about not wanting children, he couldn't help but wonder what the child inside Cayra would be like. How much of him, other than the magic, would come through?

  "No one told me we can sense these things," Roan said quietly. "Guess it just slipped their minds. The fact I started feeling it around the same time you got sick just made it more obvious."

  "I'm sorry." Cayra moved closer. "This wasn't… I didn't think… It wasn't planned. I didn't expect it. I've wanted to tell you for days, but didn't know how. We never discussed this, the three of us. I just thought we were having some fun, making the best of things. I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't want to run you off. I didn't want to make it complicated."

  "I know. None of us did. We got so wrapped up in things. I got wrapped up in it. And now we're here." And I have no idea what I feel about it, but I can't tell you that. And I definitely don't have time for this.

  "We need to talk about it," Cayra said, clasping his arms.

  "We can't, not right now." Roan sucked in a breath. "We have to keep our heads in the game. We can't afford distractions. I can't think about this when my head's full of killing people. I have to focus on that part of our present or our future won't mean a damn thing."

  She didn't buy his explanation, her skeptical glance leaving him feeling smaller than he already did. It wasn't a lie, just not the full truth. He couldn't tell her the real reason without making things worse.

  You're already under too much stress. I'm not going to add another thing to it. If we start talking now, I'll just say something we'll both regret. You'll get hurt. Just because I don't know what to feel doesn't mean I can crush your hopes or steal whatever shred of happiness you've still got. I won't be that guy.

  "We'll talk about it after we get through this," Roan murmured, holding her again. If they survived, he'd have a better idea of what he wanted. He hadn't expected to feel anything for Cayra, but he did, the emotions creeping into his consciousness over time. Now he cared for her almost as much as he did Jace.

  Maybe it would be the same for their child. Maybe he could find a part of him that wasn't terrified of being a father. Maybe he could love Jace, Cayra, and whatever children came of their relationship, giving them every tender touch, meaningful word, and unapologetic hope they deserved.

  Maybes, that's all I've got. That's all we've got to see us through tomorrow. Maybe I'll live. Maybe he'll die. Maybe we'll end up one happy freaking family. Maybe we'll lose our minds. All of it, coming down to this one thing.

  For the umpteenth time, he wondered if he'd ever stopped feeling trapped.

  12

  She would never forgive him for this.

  And if I die, I'll never forgive myself. But I can't be in two places at once. They're not doing this without me. Kiss my ass and kill me first if they don't like it.

  Jace squeezed Cayra's hand in reassurance before she climbed into the dirt-covered SUV. The engine roared as Emma clutched the gearshift and grinned, threatening to gun it.

  "Down, girl," Cayra told her.

  Emma barked and whined in reply. Cayra slapped her playfully.

  What I'd give to watch you two goof off all day instead of doing this. Jace slammed the passenger door shut and folded his arms over the window well. The headlights flicked on, white light cutting through the stark darkness of the early morning and casting an eerie glow on the crops and forest.

  Around them, hushed voices grew quieter. More doors slammed shut. Families crammed into the old vehicles the clan had salvaged and maintained, some faring better than others. Most were considered antiques, obtained from the trading posts or found abandoned, but they did the job, moving the clan in times of emergency. The solar-powered units would keep the engines running for at least eight hours if not more.

  The trip to Windsor would take only two hours. Although with the manic way Emma drove, it could possibly take little more than an hour.

  "Try not to kill anyone, would you?" Jace regarded Emma, lowering his chin to show her he meant what he said.

  Emma tsked, flipping
her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. "Angels' butts, boss, you're worse than my mother." She tugged her bandana down and secured the edges behind her ears. "And I still don't listen to her. Right, Ma?"

  At least two people in the back seat snorted.

  "Child, don't even get me started," Rosamine said from where she sat on her husband's lap, cramped in the middle of the back. "Just put the car in drive, and prove to me why I shouldn't have drowned you as a baby."

  Emma stuck her pierced tongue out at the rearview mirror. "Still your favourite, Ma, and don't forget it." She winked at Jace. "Can't stop Deliverance from showin' our love, babe. If we ain't drownin' our babies, we're drownin' in insults." With both gloved hands, she patted down her bulletproof vest. "Good thing I'm packing and wearing this tight shit. Nothing's sticking it to me today, not even Ma's deranged love. I even did my makeup for this. Damn it all to hell, if I go down I'm looking beautiful. "

  Cayra's laughter took Jace by surprise. Even at a dour time, the sound of her finding joy in a single moment made him smile.

  Inside, it twisted Jace's stomach in knots. If only he could tell her…

  Doesn't matter what my plans are or aren't. The fact they're going at all is what's killing me. And she's going to be so pissed when she finds out. Better there than here, right?

  Emma patted Cayra's knee. "Ready to go, sweets? Cover of darkness and all."

  "Yeah." Cayra clutched Jace's arms. "Last car, right? That's what you said?"

  "Yeah, with Hart," Jace replied, shifting his feet. "Assuming he's not a complete liar and killed the thing when none of us were looking."

  "Please." Emma snorted, caressing the vintage AK47 strapped to the dashboard. "You know he babies that junk of a truck like I do my precious here. It's not like he poured a gallon of whiskey in the tank and said 'make it so'. The boy'll kill you, but never that beast."

  Cayra tilted her head. "Either way, you get there and find me. I'll be the one probably still talking and negotiating our way into refugee status. You remember I told you how much they love to talk." She stared at the ceiling. "Por favor, Madre, give me the gift of your gab and make them think it's you telling them how it's going down."

  Jace rubbed her shoulder. "You'll do fine. You're better at it than me, anyway. You're nicer on the eyes."

  "Debatable," Emma sang, tapping the steering wheel.

  When she started dancing in her seat, Jace took the hint. "You need to get going. We've still got things to do here." Leaning through the window, he kissed Cayra.

  She kissed him back, harder than he expected. Please don't tell me she suspects anything.

  "Last car," Cayra reminded him, drawing her hand across his cheek. "And tell Roan—"

  "To get his ass in gear and save a few lives," Roan finished from behind Jace. He leaned against the door frame. "Yeah, thanks Cay, I'll do that." A small smile crossed his lips as he swept back her hair and caressed the back of her neck. "Just get there and get settled. Everything else is handled. Now stop stalling and go."

  "Thank you." Emma revved the engine. "I'm good at gittin' it, so let's git 'er done."

  "Bye," Cayra whispered, raising her hand. The SUV sped ahead, rambling over the field. The rest of the entourage followed, the vehicles jolting back and forth, the dirt they kicked up flying through the light of the high beams. They disappeared around the forest.

  Jace sighed at his derailed thoughts. Please let Cayra arrive in one piece. Let her work things out. At least let something go right before Hart gets there and she starts plotting my death.

  Roan slipped his arm around Jace's waist. "She'll be fine. Emma's crazy, but crazy enough to make sure they get there alive."

  "I know."

  "She'll do fine," Roan murmured, his lips brushing Jace's forehead. "She's already been chatting with them. She knows how to get what she wants. Just look at us. Windsor's a bunch of idiots if they turn on her."

  Jace held onto Roan, only partially comforted by Roan's tightened grasp. "What if they do? They need a place to go. Safe. Secure."

  "Then you'll be there to talk them into it."

  Or not…

  "The last time she went off by herself, she found Deliverance wasted," Jace explained. "I came in way after and found her in hysterics, hugging Maria's dead body. And they weren't far from us. Windsor's further off than they were."

  "So get your crap together and go already. Give her backup. I've got everything here. Thirty men plus whatever's coming. And I'm apparently as good as twenty on my own." Roan pushed Jace back. "So go. Get ready. You're lucky to be up and walking at all, so don't waste it. I'm sick of staring at Hart's face anyway. If that punk wasn't going with you, I'd kick his ass out myself."

  Jace shook his head. "I just…" He scanned the camp, studying the silhouette of the remaining tents. Dark figures weaved around them, moving boxes and weapons into position. His gaze stopped on the tent where they stored old parts and tools. If he was going to be useful, he needed to send Cayra help.

  "I've got something to do before he leaves," Jace said, spinning on his heel. No one bothered him on his way to the mechanics tent, which suited him. It was difficult enough to accept his plan and mentally kick himself every second without lying to everyone. Roan would kill him. Then Cayra would bust the rest of whatever was left of him.

  Just when you thought you were feeling better.

  Not everything he'd said in the last hour had been a lie. He'd told Cayra and Roan he felt good. And he did. While nausea ran him over every few steps and he shivered occasionally, the rest of the symptoms had all but disappeared. To his relief, the hallucinations and dreams had stopped. He loved his father, but he didn't need him in his head.

  What he needed was to lie in Roan's and Cayra's arms, holding onto both of them—not choosing between giving up one or the other or both. Loss isn't an option this time, and I won't just roll over and take it.

  No, the fight was on. From what he could tell, Roan's magic had healed him. Even if it didn't cure the sickness, it gave Jace enough of a reprieve to hold a weapon and do harm. Teach won't be your bitch anymore, governtary, and you can suck on it until your gums bleed. This is for my father, for Roan, for me, and for every person in my clan you endanger. If I'm going down, I'll take you with me, and we can all dance in the fires of hell and scream halle-fucking-lujah.

  In the corner of the tent, Jace ripped back the dusty cover hiding a black and red generator. He grabbed the flashlight from the folding table behind him and shone the light on the broken machine. For months, he'd tinkered with the generator, trying to make it work again. They rarely used it, but he'd insisted they keep it, just in case. His father had traded three month's rations for it at market, and throwing it away made little sense. Most of the clans insisted on living off the fruits of the earth, but the potential for electricity was a precious luxury they coveted. Every once in awhile, they liked to enjoy something the metropolises took for granted.

  With another few turns of the screws and poking at the insides, he could get the generator going. It would be his gift to Cayra for smoother negotiations. If they could offer something valuable in exchange for taking over a space no one wanted, they could minimize the threat and perhaps make friends in the process.

  Clenching the flashlight between his teeth, Jace picked up his wrench and screwdriver from the generator and continued where he'd left off. If no one bothered him, he could finish in an hour. After thinking for weeks about how to fix it, the answer had dawned on him hours ago, when logic and schematics taunted him between hallucinations. Wires and bolts made more sense when they weren't twisting around his neck and suffocating him…

  Half an hour later, the roar of the generator made him shiver.

  Voices yelled from the other side of the tent. Half of them wanted to know what the sound was; the other half yelled about the other clans arriving.

  Time for Hart to get going.

  Jace slumped and stared at the vibrating generator. After this, he could
no longer stall for time. He would have to face Roan. It was a fight he needed to win no matter how much he hated arguing with Roan.

  The only one making the decisions for me is me. Not my father. Not Roan or Cay. Just me. I can't stand up to the governtary on the clan's behalf if I can't even stand up for myself. Screw pride. I've got more dignity than that. I won't be able to look at myself if I don't do this. And what kind of example would it set for our child? 'Oh, hey, it's fine to shoot up people, kiddo, just as long as you let other people walk all over you and control your life'.

  Jace wiped his hands on the rag from the table. The notion of being a father scared him enough without considering the lessons he'd pass down. From his father, he'd learned about loss, heartbreak, and what it meant to be a leader. Although they were valuable lessons, they weren't what he wanted to teach his child. Freedom and the right to live a happy, safe life topped his list of lessons to pass down, even if he had to steal them with the end of a gun.

  Moham would've rolled in his grave if he'd had one.

  Jace turned off the generator and left the tent. Headlights blinded him. He raised his arm over his eyes, straining to see bodies pouring out of the parked vehicles. In the distance, more lights appeared. Were they representatives from all four clans he'd been in contact with, or was that just Dixon or Gin's people?

  Introductions will have to wait. Jace waved four of Teach's men over. "I need your help getting this to Hart's truck."

  The men agreed without question, carrying the machine to the blue pickup truck waiting on the edge of the camp. The bed of the pickup was filled with containers of food, water, blankets, tents, and medical supplies, all strapped down by tangled cords. The back seat hid under more supplies. The front was empty except for a box of guns. What remained was just enough room for two people: Hart and Jace. There was no space for anything else, let alone a cumbersome generator that would take up the entire back seat.