45. CHAPTER 45 #2
Across the room, Kira fought with renewed vigor, unable to break free. His brother's hand muffled her screams.
Father gripped his shirt and drove him back against the wall so hard his head busted through the drywall.
The entire room shook.
“Get her under fucking control.” He grabbed Zayne's face with the same kind of conflicting force he often exerted toward him, hard and unyielding, but somehow tender. “It has to be her blood next time if you can't. Is that what you want, son?”
“No, sir.” Blood spilled from his mouth when he spoke, dribbling from his chin onto his shirt. He kept his eyes trained on his father's, meeting his gaze head-on when he desperately wanted to check on Kira.
The High General's face scrunched, frown deepening.
He gripped Zayne's shoulders and threw him down against his knee. Pain knifed between his ribs.
Zayne didn't resist his father shoving him to the ground. Nor the boot that slammed into his side, his gut, his ribs.
Every hit ripped at his back until a kick landed so close to his wound that a scream lodged in Zayne's chest. He gasped, gripped by pain.
What if it bled? Shit.
He lifted enough for his father's boot to hook below his body, so he could roll onto his back.
Fire seared the injury, but the ground now hid it from sight.
His head rolled to the side, vision swimming from lack of oxygen and the hit to his temple.
Pain swelled by the second, his ribs and back on fire.
He waited for the next kick, but it didn't come. That gave him the chance to drag in a full breath, chest aching.
Father tore across the room for Kira and ripped her from Luke. Threw her to the ground in front of Zayne.
An instinct too deeply rooted to stop drove Zayne forward, and he slid beneath her, his chest breaking her fall, hand catching the back of her head.
Clambering up on her forearms, Kira crawled over him, sheltering him from his father.
But the High General pushed her off Zayne. Towered over her.
“You forced me to hit my own kid.” He looked down on her with ruthlessly unsympathetic eyes. “I told you I don't like it when my son is hurt.”
Zayne's muscles clenched, deepening the cramping in his side and back.
Horrified green eyes stared back at his father.
Come on. Hadn't he proved his point? If he moved for Kira again, Zayne couldn't stay here on the ground.
“You'll return to the prison tonight.” The High General's upper lip curled with fury.
She'd be alone there. Locked away.
“Follow orders next time.”
No one spoke or moved. A twitch might push his father back into action.
But the man turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. All three of them remained frozen while the heavy steps disappeared down the hall.
Zayne breathed out and let himself fall limp, riding out the pain pulsing throughout his body.
Kira scooted backward toward him, watching Luke.
His older brother walked closer. If not for the way he watched them, Zayne would have pulled Kira behind him, but he knew not to show much he cared.
She bristled with each step he took, scooting back to block Zayne.
His brother knelt and extended a hand, but Zayne and Kira only stared. Bloody claw marks cut through his forearm from Kira's nails. A heavy sigh fell from his brother's mouth, and he rose back to his full height.
Without a word, he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Kira twisted around for Zayne then, face splotchy from crying. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
Breathing out slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, swallowing down the pain so Kira didn't see.
“Just rest,” she said, putting her hands out. “Please.”
“I'm fine.”
“This is my fault.” Her hand covered her mouth. “I'm so sorry.” Pulling her sleeve down, she pressed it to his lip gently, dabbing at the blood. “I didn't think he'd hurt you. I didn't—”
Zayne clasped her hand, eyes on hers, and lowered it from his face. “It's nothing. I've had worse sparring.”
“Zayne,” she whispered, sniffling.
“Any blood on my back?”
Looking behind him, she shook her head. “No.”
“Good.”
She'd be devastated returning to the prison, and he feared the Phaedra wouldn't be satisfied with his father's response. There was no telling what he'd do to Kira.
And Mom? How would she handle this?
“Kira,” he said, throat aching. “It's going to be hard going back. I know that, but—”
“I'm fine too,” she said, eyes back on the blood drying on his chin. “I knew the cost. Maybe I'm just a fool.” This time, when she lifted her sleeve, he didn't stop her. She cleaned the blood from his chin and lips. “All I did was get you hurt.”
So badly he wanted to tell her those seconds she stalled her mother saved the Followers. Kira slowed Becka down, and that gave the United enough time to regain their connection.
Someone might be listening though. So, Zayne could only shake his head no.
The terrible consequences reverberated through his mind. No longer would she be here with the comfort of a woman who loved her. Now Kira would sleep alone in that empty cell and wake just the same.
All this distance from her felt so pitiful and useless right now. He couldn't stand seeing her wither away in that cell like a flower cast on a cold, concrete floor. “I won't leave you alone in there.”
Pressure squeezed his chest until he felt like popping. He needed so badly to rip her away from what came next and ease the pain he knew throbbed in her heart. His arms needed to wrap around her and carry her away from the Phaedra and his ruthless empire.
When he stood, he perfectly controlled his expression, not betraying any of the pain tearing muscles all over his body.
Damn. His father didn't hold back.
“Stay behind me.”
Kira followed him out and grabbed the back of his shirt as they walked down the hall. Distantly, Zayne heard voices and descended the stairs toward the noise, holding up a hand for Kira to wait.
He eased quietly into the doorway.
His father was holding Mom's shoulders, talking to her in a quiet, gentle voice, but she tried to rip away from him.
“I had to respond,” he said. “The Phaedra will want blood.”
“Damn you, Brandon.” She beat her fist against his chest.
“Our children are soldiers.” He shook her shoulders once. “I'm their High General.”
She shoved him with her forearms, and he stepped back, releasing her, only for her to slap him hard across the face.
Zayne's eyes widened.
“You're their father.”
He didn't complain about the slap but just turned his face back to his wife. “That's all I want to be, but I have responsibilities. Do you understand what's at stake?”
“Do you?”
“He wanted to take it for her, and I let him. Would you rather I hit her?” His father froze and turned, seeing Zayne.
Mom gasped. “Zayne.” She ran to him, carefully touching his face, eyes on the remnants of blood.
“I'm fine.”
“Your teeth are covered in blood.” His father touched her, and she pushed him away. “You get far away from my son. And I don't ever want to see those soldiers who blocked me from the stairs again. Ever.”
Father groaned, lines deep on his forehead. “I didn't have a choice.”
“You never do. You're so helpless, High General.”
He didn't come to his father's rescue. That never helped when his parents fought, because Mom wasn't a fool.
“Did you tell her?” Zayne asked.
“Tell me what?” Mom's voice quivered with fear.
“He's sending Kira back to prison.”
The devastation wilted Mom's body. “No, Brandon. Don't do that to her. Let me help her.” She gripped her chest. “Don't do this.”
“It's already done,” the High General said and charged for the front door, ignoring Mom as she cried out to him.
“Do something. Do something for once in your life. She doesn't deserve to be held captive in that prison.”
His father didn't even look back.
When he was gone, Kira rushed past Zayne and didn't stop until she wrapped Mom in an embrace.
“I'm sorry,” Kira said. “I didn't want to break your heart.”
Mom never openly cried, but she wept holding Kira's head against her. “You've done nothing wrong. Don't fight just to fight. Promise me. Protect yourself the way you'd protect the rest of us.”
His head lowered, his entire body hurting from the restraint of not gunning down anyone who stood in his way of breaking Kira out. That wouldn't work. He knew it wouldn't.
And once again, Zayne had to start over, because breaking Kira out of a prison changed everything. She'd live on camera.
A month ago, he thought it was easier to break her out of prison, but that was before the United tried to kill her.
His body tried to drag him to the ground. He resisted, staring at the floor while the strongest women he'd ever met held each other in the midst of a war that looked impossible to win.
“Hold home in your heart,” Mom said. “Don't let it go.”
“I have peace,” Kira said. “I'll be okay.”
“When that peace breaks, remember we're with you.”
Zayne's watch vibrated, and his knuckles ached with the need to bash his fist into something—someone—when he read the message. “It's time. The transport is coming.”
Mom shook her head, clinging to Kira. “You matter,” she said. “Saving your life is as important as every other person you're trying to save. I love you, darling girl. You're mine now, hear me? You're my daughter too.”
“I love you too.” Kira grabbed her one more time. “You're mine too.”
Fuck.
Fuck this.
His muscles coiled, tearing at his sore back.
When the women separated, they clung to each other's hands for another second and finally pulled away. Mom covered her mouth and bowed forward.
He walked with Kira out of his parents’ house and down to a military vehicle. Before getting in, Kira's gaze shifted to a cloudless sky, maybe searching for the stars the city lights blotted out.
There was only darkness above them, but it felt like Kira poked as many holes in his armor as they saw during the meteor shower. Tiny pinpricks that let the starlight shine through.