Chapter 38
After Will gave his orders, he and Graven were upon each other in a violent clash of smoke and lightning.
Stormfist blew holes in the warehouse.
Will disappeared and reappeared in curls of black smoke.
Ford dove for Lockwood’s body, digging the Skystone from his pocket.
Bullets ricocheted around the room, a handful finding their targets in Victor’s men.
Amaya kept her eyes shut through all of it, her ears ringing. If she opened them, the dizzying warehouse-turned-battleground would send her spiraling. There was nothing worse than being trapped, knowing she was powerless to save herself.
This always happened. Why did this always happen?
No one here actually wanted her dead, but that didn’t eliminate the possibility of stray bullets.
And Will can’t kill Graven.
If Graven had Genesis, Will didn’t stand a chance. No one did.
So much for not spiraling.
“Amaya, I’ve got you.” Victor’s breath warmed her ear, his deep timbre pushing through the cacophony of noise.
“Victor.” Amaya opened her eyes and met his, relieved to see a face that didn’t belong to Lockwood or Graven. She shook her head. “No—help Grace first. Please.”
He didn’t listen. The rough ropes on her wrists loosened as Victor sawed them away with a knife, her hands warming as the blood flow returned.
Once her top half was no longer bound to the chair, Amaya bent down to tug the knots around her ankles loose, wincing as the abrasive fibers scraped her skin.
Crowe helped Grace, who sprung to her feet the second she was free, wide-eyed and trembling.
Amaya was unsteady as she stood, but Victor wrapped his arm around her waist to help her up.
That was when she noticed he’d abandoned his cane, and his eyebrows twitched every time he put weight on his bad foot.
For a moment—just a moment—Amaya felt a wave of genuine affection for her fiancé.
“Thanks,” she said, grasping his shoulder as she found her balance.
“Don’t mention it. Are you all right?”
“I think so.” Adrenaline had absorbed her headache, and Graven’s arrival had shocked her remaining dulled senses back into vivid focus.
Victor’s brow twinged again.
“Are you okay?” Amaya asked.
“I’ll be fine. Let’s get you out of here.”
Grace screamed as Crowe scooped her up, throwing her over one of his shoulders.
“Amaya! Help!”
“Grace!” Crowe wouldn’t hurt them, but Grace didn’t know that. “Grace, it’s okay, he’s helping! Just breathe.”
Crowe turned on Amaya next, offering his other arm.
“Come. Now.”
Victor tensed, one arm tightening around Amaya as he held out his gun.
“You’ll have to get through me, first.”
Crowe almost looked amused, and Amaya knew why. He could throw Victor across the warehouse like a rag doll if he wanted.
Victor held Amaya to his chest and began backing away toward the side door, keeping his weapon trained on Crowe.
Grace continued to struggle, beating on Crowe’s back and demanding to be set down, but her efforts were in vain.
Crowe didn’t react, stalking toward Victor and Amaya with easy confidence.
“Amaya comes with us,” the giant said, narrowing his eyes at Victor. “Easy way, or hard way?”
Victor dragged Amaya back another few feet, in the direction of Lockwood’s body. She struggled against him, grateful for his help but irritated at continually being dragged around.
“Victor, let me go,” she demanded.
As they passed Lockwood’s body, Amaya noticed a glimmer of chrome; Deadeye lay clutched in his frozen hands.
Before she knew what she was doing, she intensified her efforts to escape Victor’s hold.
“Hey—Amaya!” Victor fought to keep his hold on her.
“I want that gun!” she fired back. Ducking, she managed to squeeze out from under his arm and make a mad dash for it.
The relic shone like a beacon, promising power and protection. With Eagle Eye and Deadeye’s abilities compounded, she’d be unstoppable. No more waiting for Will. No more damsel in distress.
Amaya knelt down at Lockwood’s side, forcing herself not to perceive the horror and agony etched into his features. Though he was still, his eyes remained saturated with fear.
Amaya couldn’t decide if she was truly sad or not, but she was taking his gun either way.
She pried the shotgun from his stiff fingers and picked it up, intending to whirl around and start firing at Graven, at the automatons—but then she realized she didn’t know how to hold a shotgun properly. Up to this point, she’d only worked with pistols.
She could figure it out; this wasn’t entirely new territory anymore, and she’d watched Lockwood use it. Amaya fiddled with the gun, pressing it against her shoulder like he had during their training sessions.
She squinted through the scope, and Eagle Eye slowed down time as she took careful aim at the clockwork heart in Graven’s chest. Maybe if she could damage it, Will could finish the job.
Amaya didn’t get to take her shot. Just as she was about to pull the trigger, she was plucked off the ground by a strong arm. A shoulder collided with her stomach like a sucker punch.
“Crowe!” Amaya cried, scrambling to keep a hold on Deadeye. “Crowe, stop it!”
“I have orders,” he said simply.
Grace still dangled over his other shoulder, looking just as bewildered and distressed as Amaya felt. Crowe picked up speed. His muscled shoulder pressed painfully into Amaya’s gut, forcing the air out of her with every pounding step.
“Amaya!” Victor shouted after them, but his injured foot slowed him down and he wouldn’t dare shoot.
“Where are you taking us?” Grace asked.
“Home,” Crowe grunted.
Amaya didn’t have to ask if he meant her home or his.
Crowe kept running until they were nearly a quarter mile away from the warehouse, where a tarp concealed three windskiffs. He dropped Amaya and Grace to their feet, not giving them any time to catch their breath.
“Get on,” he said, tearing away the tarp and jerking his head toward one of the skiffs.
Grace glanced back toward the warehouse, but then hopped on without question. When Amaya hesitated, Grace turned around and tilted her head.
“Well? Aren’t you coming?”
Amaya wasn’t worried about herself. “Grace, I don’t think you should—”
“This is going to the Maelstrom, correct?” Grace asked Crowe.
The man nodded gruffly, and Grace looked smug. “There you have it. As harrowing and untoward as that was . . .” She cut a pointed glare at Crowe as she claimed her seat on the skiff. “I intend to see this through.”
Amaya cradled Deadeye to her chest the same way she hugged Daisy for comfort.
“Grace . . .”
Before she could articulate her concerns, the low rumble of an engine emerged from the distant roar of chaos. Victor rode out of the darkness on a Royal Fleet motorbike, the sharp lines of his face hard and angry.
“Face me, you coward!” he said, directing his outburst at Crowe.
Adrenaline numbing his pain was the only explanation for the way Victor leapt off the motorbike, standing upright and sturdy like there wasn’t a hole in his foot.
He drew his gun at the same moment Crowe activated the Ironskin medallion on his chest. Silver shimmered over Crowe, and the bullet bounced off him like a rubber ball.
Victor looked down at his gun, then back at Crowe. “How did
you . . . ?”
“Kill him?” Crowe looked at Amaya, as if asking her permission.
Amaya shook her head. “No, please don’t.”
In response, Crowe gave a stiff nod.
With few alternatives, Victor fired again. The bullet bounced right off of Crowe’s forehead; the giant didn’t even flinch.
“Fucking hell,” Victor snarled. “Amaya, run!”
Seeming to realize the futility of the gun, Victor drew his sword instead. Amaya took a few hurried steps back while he brought the blade down on Crowe. The pirate responded by taking Victor’s arm before the blade could touch him and twisting it, hard.
Amaya winced as Victor cried out, a sickening pop signaling a dislocated shoulder. Grace gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth while Crowe’s other massive fist went for Victor’s gut, throwing him back several paces.
Amaya reached for her own shoulder, an empathetic ache spreading through her bones. But she remained silent, not saying a word in his defense.
Crowe shook out his fist and turned back to the windskiffs, clearly not expecting Victor to follow. But he stubbornly forced himself to stand, throwing all of his weight onto his uninjured foot and seething through the pain.
“Oh, no. We’re not done,” he snarled, holding out his sword with his left arm while his right one dangled uselessly. Crowe grunted and looked back, more annoyed than intimidated.
Victor was nothing more than a bug for Crowe to crush under his boot.
Amaya knew it, Grace knew it, and Victor probably did, too.
But still, he persisted. Amaya didn’t know what to think.
Surely she wasn’t worth this much to him.
Perhaps it was fear of her father instilling him with such foolish bravery.
When Victor made another rush at Crowe, he didn’t even get the chance to swing. His face collided with Crowe’s fist, and with another nauseating crack, he fell to the ground once more. Grace yelped, and Amaya nearly dropped Deadeye.
This time, Victor didn’t get up. He rolled onto his back and groaned in anguish, his one working hand covering a bloody broken nose.
“Now we’re done,” Crowe said.
“Victor!” Amaya cried, no longer able to stand still and watch. She started to go to him, but Crowe held up his arm, blocking her way. She stopped, looking up to see him shake his head almost imperceptibly.
“We cannot stay here,” he said.
Amaya was torn. She didn’t love Victor the way he wanted her to, but that didn’t mean she wanted to leave him like this. Not when he’d tried to rescue her.
In the distance, a massive bolt of purple lightning blasted out of the warehouse, splitting the midnight sky in two. Amaya pressed her lips together in a grim line. Was that the blow that claimed Will’s life? Maker above, she hoped not.
Don’t try to be a hero, Will, she thought. Just get out.
“Should we go back and—”
“No,” Crowe cut her off. “We have orders.”
Amaya wasn’t good at following orders, but it wasn’t lost on her that Will was currently risking his life to help her escape. Graven was after her, not him. Not Victor.
And Victor . . . his injuries weren’t life-threatening. He’d be fine.
He’d be fine.
Reluctantly, Amaya placed her small hand in Crowe’s huge one and let him help her onto the windskiff with Grace, still clutching Deadeye.
“Amaya?”
The sadness and betrayal permeating Victor’s tone was soul-wrenching. This was the most heartless, selfish thing Amaya had ever done, but she convinced herself she had no other choice.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking her seat on the skiff. “Please don’t come looking for me. And tell my dad I’m okay, will you?”
Crowe mounted the windskiff in front of Amaya. He revved the engine and they climbed to the clouds, leaving Victor in the dust.