Page 20 of Entangled

The silence is thunderous.

Sam climbs up onto an enormous, fallen tree. Up high above us all, his shadow is cast against the cliff, as though he’s backed by a demon, stretching its blackened claws out in threat. The fire rages and burns in front of him—too much like Bristlebrook. Too wild and unkempt to be anything but unholy.

“We lost a brother tonight, and you’re fighting like you want to lose another.”

The sorrow that twines through the anger is convincing. Peeking up from Madison, I watch his eyes gleam in the writhing light.

“Ourbrothersdied in droves for you—and for nothing!” a voice shouts back, and a few more join in.

“Is your spine that soft?” Sam snarls. “We destroyed an enemy on our doorstep. This is avictory.”

The fire hisses and cracks.

“We are the hunters in the night. We are the last who stand against extinction. Only Sinners will live.” Sam lifts his gun, his voice bouncing off the rock with an unearthly resonance. “The Final War was acorrection. The human cattle died in their broken cities, the weak starved for what they weren’t strong enough to claim, and every bloated, soft-handed prick who thought their bank accounts made them strong finally realized the lie. Because it wasuswho stole, and killed, and took. The righteous died. And the wicked won.”

I watch with a frisson of dismay, and the men rise, their approving murmurs rippling like a changing tide. The starved expectation in the air is more frightening than the firefight.

Sam’s teeth shine through his beard, but not in a smile. He looks like an animal, feral and mean, in command of his pack.

“Only the strong survive, my brothers—and we are the strong. We do not apologize. We do not moralize. This world is ours now.Wemake the rules.”

Dread ekes into my marrow at the answering jeer, and Madison squeezes tighter.

“The Sinners will sprawl across this country. Banded together, who could stop us? Every one of us will live like a king. The best houses, the best food, the best medicine—and the women will get on their knees andthank usfor our protection. The way it used to be. The way italwaysshould have been.”

“Oh my God.” The horrified whisper escapes before I can stop it, and Madison gives me a grim look as the men cheer.

Not all of them, maybe. But more than just Sam’s group.

Far, far too many.

I finally start to see it. How it happened. Sam doesn’t need to be smart. Smart was a problem for suits and offices, for cutthroat business and barbed conversations. Because he’s right. All he needs is men like him, who are stronger and better armed than the rest of us. The ones who were armed and ruthless and ready to begin with. All he needs to do is appeal to the thugs and thieves and rapists and promise them everything, and he’ll have a horde at his feet.

Sheer, brutal numbers.

Their weapons clatter like bones clapping together, and Sam laughs, wild and raw.

“We are at war for our new life—at war against every weak, pathetic shit stain who hid in the shadows long enough to make it this far. But we are warriors, and a warrior does not fear death. Heembracesit.” Sam grins as the clattering becomes raucous, unhinged. “Have I not given you food?”

The men holler in agreement.

“Have I not given you a home?”

They shout back.

“Do you not have women sucking your cocks?”

Their cheering, sneering laughter makes me cold to the bone. I stare at them, desperate with my terrible vision and poor light to make out one kind face, one example of enraged disapproval.

But I can’t find it.

I see Alastair and Mateo over by their monolithic tree, uncaught by the fire. I can hardly make them out in the dark, except to see that they are very, very still.

Horror clutches at me. Surely they can’t all be like this? Surely they can’t wantthis?

Logan clutches at Akira as he jeers in approval, and her face is pale as she hides under his arm.

I was wrong. This isn’t Sam’s men versus Alastair’s. Not bad versus good. Whatever respect Alastair holds, I suddenly doubt the strength of its grasp.

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