24

Once again, I had a guard on each arm. Two in front of me. Three between me and Roman. The five councilmen and General Bickens formed a wall between me and the Sisters.

Otter addressed them first. "Geneva Carmichael."

"Freddie," she drawled.

"That's Councilman Otter to you."

"You know this woman?" Langley hissed.

"She attached herself to me in the ball rotations of our graduating year," Otter confided in a snide tone. "No doubt she hoped to snatch herself a prize. But I know a shark when I see it."

Thorpe took a daring step forward.

Geneva lifted her rifle and pointed it at him, the butt cradled in the hollow of her shoulder. "I wouldn't take another step if I were you."

Thorpe called her bluff and took another step. "Am I supposed to be worried that you know how to shoot that?"

He made a valid point. I'd only ever seen a rifle, any weapon other than what the Guard carried, in the documented screenings of the Fertility Plague. There'd been a lot of violence once people realized their world was dying.

Geneva shifted her aim at a drop of banner hanging from the ceiling and pulled the trigger. My teeth snapped together and my head jerked to the side, away from the deafening cacophony that eclipsed my senses. I couldn't see, hear, think, as a ricochet of explosive echoes and screams bounced throughout the hall.

When I could think again, when I could hear, the thunder had been replaced with shocked silence, mixed with the odd gulping sob from across the room.

"My aim may need some practice," Geneva said casually, bringing the long barrel around again to Thorpe. "Care to volunteer?"

My gaze darted to the wall hanging she'd shot at. The material was shredded, but there was no blood, no dead bodies on the ground.

Thorpe had dropped into a crouch, palms clamped over his ears. He shuffled backward to the safety of his group before he rose to his full height.

Geneva looked at him, waiting. When it seemed he had nothing more to say, she issued, "Release Georga West. She belongs with us."

"Lay down your weapons," Julian called out, "and you can have her."

"Or I can plow through all of you to get her," Geneva counter-offered.

"You do that, and you risk a stray bullet striking her."

Geneva's eyes hooded as she stood there, straight and tall in stylish black pants and a jacket, this outfit matched with a white cotton blouse. She made an impressive figure, and she looked slightly bored. "That's a chance I'm willing to take."

I believed her.

Julian didn't. He glanced over his shoulder at me—or rather, at my guards. "Hold tight."

"Ladies," Geneva drawled.

Rose and Eliza adjusted the rifles in their arms and took aim.

The guard on my left bent closer, his voice low and urgent at my ear, "Is it true?"

I reared away from his breath, glared at him. Is what true?

"That there are women in The Smoke?" His brown eyes searched mine. He wasn't young, maybe in his mid-thirties. "More women than there are men?"

I glanced down at the grip of his fingers on my upper arm, and what he was asking hit me in the stomach. There was no citizen ring tattoo. It was a double whammy. I was always fixated on the women of Capra. We bore the brunt of our society's restrictions, that was true, but the men weren't untouched. The ratio of 7:3 meant that more than half our men, upstanding citizens who'd never done any wrong—were denied wives, denied a life partner, and by default denied a family.

I gave him a grim nod. I had no idea what all he'd heard, I'd missed most of the screening, but if I'd said it, then it was the God honest truth.

"It's all true," I whispered.

His eyes pinned the guard on my other side. I glanced that way. I didn't know his story—how many stories were out there?—but I recognized the look of pain that crossed his face. The look of loss.

He took a moment, then he released my arm and the brown-eyed guard tugged me out from behind the others. It happened so fast, I was on the edge of our oppressive group before his intention registered.

I wasn't the only one taken by surprise. Then again, everyone's focus was on Geneva and the rifles pointed at them.

The guard released my arm. He'd already dropped his baton and now he unhooked the Taser from his hip and tossed it aside, raising both hands in the air as he crossed with me to the other camp.

"Powell!" General Bickens cut into the tense silence at our backs. "What are you doing? If you don't get back here…!"

The empty threat trailed off, because that's exactly what it was. We were almost across the divide. Almost there.

Then all hell broke loose.

Bickens rushed us, rushed into the divide, and that deafening, mind-bending cacophony of thunder split my skull. My guard threw an arm around my shoulder, shoving me to the ground as he flung himself over me like a human shield.

For long, long seconds, I couldn't think. And when I could, when I became aware of his body crouched over me, I didn't know what to think.

He rolled off me and I started to lift myself up onto my elbows.

"Daddy!" Lisa screamed, bursting forward.

Her mother yanked her back.

Distant cries, more screams, other muffled sounds, all filtered through the ringing in my ears, and then Roman was reaching for me, gathering me up from the ground.

His mask was shattered, the look on his face a ravaged valley of hard edges and dark shadows. "Georga."

I tried to work saliva into my mouth to answer, to assure him I was okay, but an awful, crooning sound drew my attention and my gaze skimmed wide.

"Don't look." Roman tucked me to his chest, his large palm tenderly cupping my head, but it was too late.

I'd seen the blood gurgling from General Bickens' leg. I'd seen the bone sticking out from his shattered knee.

Hot bile churned up my throat and gathered at the back of my mouth.

Roman held me close, his heart a steady beat against my cheek, drowning out the gore and chaos around us.

My stomach settled.

For a moment, just a single moment, I thought we might make it through the rest of this night, that the worst was over.

Then Geneva started barking out commands and that moment fractured into a nightmare.

At first, the orders were justified. I stood to one side with Roman, saying nothing, watching with a stone-cold heart as the councilmen were rounded up. Their wrists were bound with ties, and more of our Sisters streamed in from the outside to assist as they were marched from the premises.

A couple of the guards were granted permission to collect General Bickens and cart him off to the clinic. Lisa and Mrs. Bickens went with them.

My brown-eyed guard, the one who'd surrendered and thrown himself over me as a human shield, was ignored. All the rest were bound at the wrist and marched off, and they didn't put up any fight, didn't show an ounce of resistance.

Maybe it was the show of weapons, and Geneva's trigger-happy finger.

For some, it probably was.

For others, I wondered if it was their stories.

Then Roman was torn from my arms and they took Daniel, they took five other boys and men as well, all council heirs, and I couldn't find Geneva to make her hear me, to make her give Roman back to me. She'd swept out of the hall at some point, and the other Sisters only cared about following her direct orders.

Rose was immune to my fury. "Let tonight play out, Georga."

Play out how? Roman was injured. He'd been through enough without spending the night in a holding cell.

I stabbed a finger at her. "If they touch a hair on—"

She swatted my finger and my threat aside with the muzzle of her rifle. "We have our hands full right now, Georga. Do you not see what's happening here? This isn't a rebellion." Her eyes glazed with fervor. "This is a full-blown revolution. We're taking Capra for the Sisterhood."

Of course I saw what was happening. How could I miss it? My gaze washed over the hall, from the shredded banner to the stain of General Bickens' blood to the pale, shocked faces on the other side.

This was nothing like the gentle rebellion of my imagination. This was a war of blood, not a war of words and reason.

I got it, I seriously did, and that's exactly why I had to ensure Roman didn't end up one of Geneva's casualties.

I wasn't getting anywhere with Rose, though, or any of the other Sisters. I forced down a calming breath, and another.

I was the spark of this revolution.

I brought the flame.

I brought the fire.

I would not be helpless.

I would not be unheard.