Page 80 of Counting Quarters

“We need to get out of here, Blaire,” I called up the stairs to her. She had gone up there to shower a few minutes prior. The pipes already creaked from the running water.

She hadn’t heard me.

I snatched my phone from my coffee table and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time as I fumbled through my contacts for Tabitha’s number. She’d be able to warn the Quarters while we warned the town.

By the time I got through the bathroom door, revealing a puzzled Blaire peeking from behind her shower curtain, Tabitha answered.

“He’s coming,” I said breathlessly into the phone and to Blaire. “We need to get everyone together. We need to warn them. Now.”

Tabitha said something on the other end of the line that I didn't pay attention enough to hear, and then hung up. Blaire was shutting the water off when I walked out of the bathroom and toward her bedroom to pick something for her to wear.

Every second we spent in this apartment was a second we weren’t getting things ready. It was a disadvantage.

“Kyle, slow down. We can do this. We’ve been preparing for it. It’s going to be okay,” Blaire tried to soothe, but I ignored her.

She hadn’t heard what I’d heard. She had no idea.

“He’s got so much more support than we thought. They’re coming for blood. For your blood.”

They wanted to end the Quarters once and for all.

I didn’t watch her slip into the pants I had laid out on her bed. Instead, I headed for the stairs again. To get outside and warn everyone I could. I didn’t care if I had to scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of the street, I wasn’t going to let them take my town by surprise.

My mind was in absolute chaos.

Blaire was at my heels, tugging a shirt over her head as we descended the stairs. “You need to take a breath, Kyle. I can feel your panic. It’s scaring me.”

Rayner wasn’t going to slow down, though. And he wasn’t going to take my family away from me again.

He wasn’t going to touch Blaire.

“Kyle!” Blaire shouted my name from the porch. I had already made it down to the sidewalk before her voice startled me out of my racing thoughts.

“He isn’t going to get away from you this time. We’re going to help. Just please, stop for a second.”

It was the panic lacing her features that had me turning and doubling back over the front lawn. For a moment—just a split second—I allowed myself to take her in. Her green eyes shined in the evening sun, which emphasized the tiny freckles dancing along the top of her nose and spilling onto her cheeks. Her dark ginger hair, usually tied into a tight braid, fell over her shoulders in wild, wet waves. The black shirt and dark jeans she wore hugged her curves in all the right spots.

She was perfect.

She was worth fighting a war for.

“I love you,” I breathed out. “And for some reason, he likes to take away the things I love.”

Blaire’s face fell. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. Her feet carried her to me, closing the distance between us. “I love you, too.”

Her lips were on mine, but she only allowed them to linger for a second. She knew I was in a rush, so she didn’t make me push her away. Instead, she stepped back and nodded, ready to move forward.

Ready to fight.

We jogged to my cruiser, and I turned on the sirens, blasting them through the streets the whole drive to the police station. I still wasn't sure how many of my officers I could trust, but I had to try to gather as many as possible.

By the time we left the station and called in as many officers as we could, we drove into town and found that Tabitha and the Quarters had managed to get the majority of their supporters into the square. It was a much smaller group than I'd expected.

I made the terrifying comparison to the Movement's numbers in my head and my heart kicked back up. Blaire sensed my creeping anxiety and her hand found mine at my side, then squeezed reassuringly.

We've got this,she sent the thought into the air between us, and I caught it, offering a stiff nod as response.

I commanded my small police force of about ten officers—only three hadn't answered my call, including Stewart—while the Quarters instructed everyone else on what was expected of them. They handed out weapons to each citizen with grave expressions.

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