Page 73 of Echos and Empires
Alex pushed a hand through his spiky hair, skeptical. “You sure about this?” he asked, hazel eyes searching Chris’s face. “We don’t know what we’ll be up against.”
Chris met his gaze, unwavering. “I’m sure,” he said. Maybe more sure than ever. “It’s all or nothing now.”
Alex gave a quick nod, his cocky smirk reappearing. “Just wanted to hear you say it,” he said, and turned to start texting.
Chris watched the group split up, and watched the way they worked together. Liam and Alex, sending texts with grim efficiency. Emma, beside them, focused and intent, her determination lighting her up from within. The sight filled Chris with a mix of pride and fear, a potent cocktail that burned through his veins.
They were really doing this. There was no turning back.
Bash and William returned, silent but without a shred of concern on their faces..
“Nothing. Whatever Alex did, the truck’s computer plus powering the phones off seems to have protected us. For now.” Bash growled.
Chris caught William’s eye and felt a surge of gratitude. Twenty-four hours ago, he hadn’t been sure they’d get him back.
“No other tracks?” Liam asked.
“Nothing suspicious,” Bash reported, with a sharp nod. “No one around, just some animal trails.”
“Good,” Chris replied, feeling the tightness in his chest ease a fraction. “Help the others send texts.”
He watched Bash and William join the others, watched the way they all moved with purpose. It made him feel the depth of his trust in them, in what they were doing. It made him feel the weight of it, the urgency, the need to make this work.
He knelt down, grabbed a phone from the stash. It felt heavy in his hand, a lifeline or a death sentence. It was impossible to tell which. He started typing, each word feeling like it carried a thousand tons. Meet us. Join us. It’s a revolution now.
Chris could hear Victor’s voice in his head, cold and calculating, a sinister echo that sent a chill through him despite the heat. This was the hardest part—the waiting, the not knowing. But they were beyond doubt, beyond fear. He glanced at Emma, then at the rest of the group, a fierce determination blazing in his dark eyes.
They had to do this fast. They had to win this.
He ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. “We text every number we have,” he repeated. “Every single one unless we know they’re completely loyal to Victor.”
Chris crouched down and started digging for the phones. There were too many numbers to send texts one at a time. They each had to take a couple. It had to be fast.
“Burn them when you’re done,” he reminded the group, tossing each man and Emma a phone.
TWENTY-FIVE
Three hoursof trudging through thick underbrush left a dull ache in Emma’s muscles, but she wouldn’t let the boys carry her, not when she’d insisted on making the journey.
Her own feet. Her own strength.
Her babies deserved a mother who was as strong as possible for what came next.
She pushed on, legs trembling under her, and curls sticking to her neck in sweaty tendrils. A determined fire burned through her body even as her steps slowed and faltered. She saw her men exchange worried glances.
Chris raised an eyebrow. Bash set his jaw. Alex physically reached out for her. While she couldn’t see Liam or William, she knew Liam would have done the same if he weren’t leading, and William most certainly did behind her even though he didn’t need to.
They all saw her determination, and they all saw her slow. When she stopped at a tree, Bash swooped in without warning, pulling her into his arms. She barely had the energy to protest. “I am going to walk.”
He opened his mouth to protest and she scowled at him.
“I am going to walk.” She repeated, trying to keep the huff of low oxygen out of her words.
“You’re going to be like when we met.” Bash hadn’t asked a question. “Fine. For now.”
She tried not to smirk at the memory of them alone in her house that first night. If only she’d known who he truly was then, she would have never let him sleep in the main house…or sleep at all.
Pride braced her against the swelling fatigue. Emma had to be strong. For them, for the resistance. The hours dragged under the unyielding sun, each step an effort, each breath like lifting her chest out of deep waters. But she refused to give in. Stubborn. Her fingers grazed the rough bark of a tree for support, the terrain uneven and wild.
