• This is the second book of The Collected series •
"Those who bring pain are here to save, and those who bring hope will bring death. A great evil rests on the horizon, eating away at each setting sun. Nothing is as it seems while you beg for salva...
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The way the ship shook did not lead me to believe that we were finally taking off. Neither did Axell or Zillah's faces.
"What did you do to my ship?" Zillah snapped, accusation and a look of weariness in her eyes.
"That wasn't me, you imbecile." he grunted, frantically prodding at the controls, "we aren't alone."
"I sure hope you're talking about your army." I gripped the armrest of my chair, the metal folding in on itself beneath my touch.
"I told you, I sent them ahead. If this ship wasn't so poorly put together, they wouldn't be so far away. We're on our own now." He glared back at me, eyeing my hands.
"Well who's out there?" Max approached the windows and scanned the area.
"Someone who wants to kill you no doubt. Either the makeshift army of nobodies I've been fighting against, or your old friends. The Collectors."
"I have a feeling it's neither." Nicholas appeared in the doorway, in his hands he clutched his mask, "I do know that whoever it is, does want to kill us."
"Number Eight." I hissed between my teeth, slightly curious to see who this person was. If they were a person. As they most likely were not.
"Bingo." Nicholas sneered, putting the mask over his pained expression, "this time, I'm sure of it. Get ready to fight."
I hated the way we all stood. So empowered. Empty adrenaline coursing through our veins. Zillah and Axell stood by the controls, their body language screaming, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." I could feel Cate just behind me, and if I looked back I was sure Max and Torryn would be standing on either side of her like some sort of bodyguards. She didn't need bodyguards. Despite her small figure, I could see the fire beneath her eyes.
Jasper was still injured. Both on the inside and the out. I didn't expect him to be here. But we were missing someone. The one we'd chosen to pretend was the weakest of us all.
Estelle.
I'd never seen someone fight like the way she did on the day of our escape. The day we thought Nicholas died.
"Torryn." I turned my head- sure enough, he stood to the left of Cate, "go get your sister."
"No." He shook his head, the feathers on his wings lifting defensively. There was something about him that used to scare me. Maybe the way his jaw was set, or the way his eyes sparkled emptily in the light. I couldn't tell if it was Cate who'd softened his edges or if it was the realization that this strong act of his was just to protect his little sister.
"We need everyone who can fight," Nicholas turned, motioning for us to follow him, "Estelle can fight."
The ship shook again, leaving no room for protest. Torryn muttered something angrily before ducking out of the room, hopefully going off to find his sister.
