Page 130 of Ruthless Ends

“He’s out of his goddamn mind,” mutters Anya.

“And you all!” Westcott points and throws his arm in a wide arc around the crowd. “How foolish, hownaïvecould you possibly be to think there would be no loss, no bloodshed in this war? How fragile your loyalty must have been to turn so easily. Maybe you don’t deserve what you seek if you’re fickle enough to make me your hero in one breath and your villain in the next.”

My feet take me forward of their own accord, slipping in and out of trees and behind bushes as I make my way down the hill. Judging by the crunching leaves and snow behind me, the others are following.

There’s no time for a more thought-out plan. Not when he has that many hostagesright there.All it would take is…

And I refuse to be too late.

Cam might think he can deal the killing blow, but his chances are much better if I can subdue Westcott first. And for that, I’ll need to be closer.

The bond feels stronger in my chest with Reid this close, but I can’t feel him the way I normally do, not enough to communicate. They must have given him something to cut off the connection. But he has to feel it too, that I’m closer now. That I’m coming. That I won’t let this be the end.

“Our purpose will live on for those with bravery in their hearts and logic in their minds. Not deserters who flee at the first sign of struggle.”

We’re halfway there now, the voices of the crowd growing louder, stronger, enough for me to pick out some of their words.

Traitor.

Coward.

Selfish.

Unfit.

You let them burn.

I inspect the thirteen on the posts as I get closer, but despite their disheveled states, none of them seems injured. As my eyes flick back to Westcott, I freeze when I realize Calla is staring right at me. I’ve made it to the back of the crowd now, hoping to blend in with the hundreds of other bodies, but she’s somehow already picked me out. We hold each other’s eyes for one beat, two. My heart hammers in my chest. If she alerts Westcott—

—but then she blinks and turns away.

I exhale shakily. Had I imagined it? Maybe she hadn’t been looking at me at all.

Or maybe…

“What’s truly saddening is that you have all known struggle before! It is what drew us together. What bonded us. You’ve seen hardship and cruelty, and yet you seem to forget who the true enemy is so easily!”

I can feel the magic in the air as I shoulder my way through the crowd. So many witches here. After a moment, I realize why none of them have tried anything with Westcott so close. There’s a shimmer in the air, barely visible, cutting off the platform from the crowd behind the wendigos. A magical protection barrier, if I had to guess.

I look around for Cam but don’t see him. Adrienne has one hand fisted in the back of my shirt and she shuffles along behind me so we don’t get separated.

“He’s holding the barrier,” she says in my ear, and I follow where she points to a witch standing beside the platform. I squint at him, trying to figure out how she can tell, when Anya splits off from us, disappearing into the crowd in his direction.

God, I hope no one recognizes her.

“What’s the plan, Val?” Adrienne asks.

I don’t relish the idea of getting any closer to a wendigo than I have to, but the more I look at them, the more I realize how much they’re for show. Compared to the number of people in this crowd, they alone would never manage to subdue them if a riot broke out. They’re here for intimidation.

Wescott is counting on that barrier not coming down. If that’s gone, we might not have to do much. The energy in the air buzzes louder with each passing second, the anger palpable. These people are ready to tear him limb from limb.

They probably had families in those compounds he let burn. Parents, friends, children.

And instead of acknowledging their pain and grief, he’s talking down to them. Questioning their loyalty, their character, and ranting up there like a madman, giving them more reason to question his suitability as their leader.

“Does this not remind you all of what we’ve been fighting for?” Westcott steps beside Reid and yanks his head back by his hair.

I freeze. Reid barely reacts to this. His hands and feet are chained down, and he doesn’t try to fight his restraints. His jaw is hard as he stares back at Westcott.

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