“Yes, he does.” I plant my left hand on the street and push myself upright, my right arm still cradled across my lap. “And so do I. But we also understand justice, something you don’t seem to grasp.”

“Climb down.”

“No.”

His eyes blaze. “Climb down or I’ll make you regret ever breaking your promise to me.”

I lift my chin and meet his gaze without flinching. “I’ll make another promise to you, Ian. One I am wholeheartedly committed to keeping.” I lean close, and a draft of moist, cool air rises out of the hole in the street.

“I, Rachel Adams, promise to kill you, Ian McEntire, for the crimes of destroying Baalboden and killing thousands of innocent people.” I match the ferocity of his anger with a heaping dose of my own. “And I’ll make it hurt. You like pain atonement. You should appreciate that.”

His lip curls, and he says, “One last chance. Climb down.”

“No.” I hurl the word at him.

He balls up his fist and slams it into the side of my head. For one fleeting moment, I can still hear the distant sounds of fighting. Still feel the roughness of the stone beneath me. Still see Ian’s eyes glaring into mine.

But then my ears ring, my eyes close, and darkness takes me.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

LOGAN

My sword slams against a tracker’s blade as I battle my way toward where I last saw Rachel. The smoke is lifting, shredding into long slices of gray, but I can’t see her. The man I’m fighting spins, blade slashing, and I parry his blow.

Easily.

Another slash. Another parry. Fighting him is like sparring with one of our newer guards. It takes very little effort on my part to keep him at bay.

A quick glance behind me shows that Adam, Frankie, Drake, and Nola are holding off the trackers easily as well. Which means they aren’t trying to kill us. They’re just trying to slow us down enough to let Ian get away.

“Rachel!” I yell her name and cough as acrid smoke burns my throat. The tracker lifts his sword for another attack, but I’m done playing cat and mouse. Turning on my heel, I run toward the southern corner of the square—toward where I last saw Rachel and Quinn.

I lunge forward, holding my cloak to my nose, but I can’t see more than a yard in front of me. The bell keeps clanging. Bodies brush past me in the smoky haze, but I can’t tell if they’re trackers or my own people. A hand grabs my cloak, and suddenly Willow is in my face, her dark eyes lit with fury.

“They’re gone.”

“Who’s gone?” I ask, though the terrible fear coursing through me is answer enough.

“Quinn, Rachel, and Ian.”

“The gate,” I say, and she doesn’t wait for more explanation.

The smoke is a thinning haze as we hurry out of the square. My people are all still standing, but most of the trackers are gone. Whether they left with Ian or just disappeared back into the depths of Lankenshire to keep an eye out for any perceived disloyalty toward Rowansmark, I have no idea.

We leap out of the square and onto the pale stone road that leads toward the gate and start running. It takes less than three minutes to race from the square to the gate. I spend the entire time alternately praying that Rachel is okay and thinking of terrible things to do to Ian.

We skid around the last curve of the spiraling road and find the gate locked. Coleman Pritchard, along with fifteen of his guards, stands in our way.

“Move,” Willow snaps.

He acts like he didn’t hear her.

“Did a tall boy about my age just come through the gate with a red-haired girl and a dark-haired boy?” I ask Coleman.

“No one’s come through this gate in over an hour,” he says, and there’s something heavy in his tone.

“They used the tunnels,” Willow says. “I know where those let out.” She turns back to Coleman and snarls, “Get out of our way.”

“I can’t do that,” he says.

“I’ll make it easy on you.” Willow nocks an arrow and whips it toward his face. “Move or die.”

“You can kill me, but that gate isn’t opening. We’re on lockdown. No one can open the gate except the triumvirate, now.”

“Lockdown? Why?” I grip my sword so hard it hurts. “We need out of that gate, Coleman. Ian is a killer, and he has the only people we can still call family.”

He nods as if he’s sympathetic, but there’s something dark in his eyes. Something that worries me.

“I’ll tell you why we’re on lockdown, Logan McEntire of Rowansmark.” He steps aside and gestures toward the gate. “Because you have yet another powerful enemy you neglected to tell us about, and now you’ve endangered all of Lankenshire.”

I step past him as the other guards part to let me through, and despair washes over me as I see the Commander’s army surrounding the city. It’s a sea of red uniforms mixed with the blue of Baalboden guards as far as the eye can see, and near the front, the Commander sits astride his horse, his face turned toward the gate.

“That man is really starting to get on my last nerve,” Willow says, and shifts her arrow to point through the bars of the gate at the distant Commander.

The Commander spurs his horse forward a few steps and shouts, “People of Lankenshire, this is Commander Jason Chase of Baalboden. I have no quarrel with you. Give me the Baalboden citizens you have sheltered within your walls, along with their belongings, and you will remain unharmed. You have until dawn. If you choose not to comply, we will attack you with intent to destroy.”