Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 52

The force of Bren leaping across the table to collide with me knocks the chair back, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders to send us both crashing to the floor. The copper cups scatter on the table, Darlene's mother releases a gasp as if she had no idea this was going to happen, and Renit becomes a physical wall to keep Darlene's father from nocking another arrow. It doesn't take much, I half watch him, half shake Bren's body on the floor.

Renit delivers a blow to Darlene's father's cheek, knocking him sideways. Ultimately, he falls to the ground on his side and Renit stands over him with the bow in his hands, an arrow already pointing at his scrambling target. "Please!" he cries. "She's the enemy! I had to!"

Renit says something I can't hear, that arrow still poised to sink into the flesh of Darlene's father, but now that I know he's disabled and Renit stands over him, I turn my focus to Bren. He moans. I push him off as gently as I can and untangle myself from the legs of the chair to kneel at his side.

I don't care that Darlene's mother monitors us all, surveying the scene but not doing a damn thing to lessen the tempers of a possible death sentence by arrow.

"Bren," I say, my voice shaken. I roll him onto his back and shove the chair away. It skids against the wall we nearly slammed against, but narrowly missed. The kitchen is cramped; there's not nearly enough room for us to stretch out the entire way. I feel like I'm in a coffin.

His lower half is under the table and I'm very aware of the arrow fletching catching on the corner of the table to cause more damage than what it's worth. Carefully, I push him away, towards the middle, and he hisses. In a split moment of desperation, he reaches for that wound before I can grab his hand.

The arrow is long, but it's not deep inside. His armor caught the brunt of it, that I can tell from the lack of blood streaming from the wound. That'll change if I have to dig out the pointed head. It can't stay in there.

"You'll be fine," I promise. My hands shake as I cut away the fabric, remove his armor, and behold the wound.

Renit drags Darlene's father into the room and forces him into the empty chair next to his wife. Bren sat there. They watch us carefully, neither of them moving to help or apologize, but I know their stares don't linger on the two males in the room. It's me they're watching, and the tattoo so starkly placed on my hand for everyone to see. I knew the markings would be my downfall. It was only a matter of time.

Weapons removed, attackers quarantined, Renit kneels down on Bren's other side and surveys the wound before him. "We'll have to remove it," he suggests. The bottom tips of the arrowhead are sticking out. The wound isn't deep at all, but pain is pain.

I growl through my teeth and spring to my feet. "You had no right!" I shout at Darlene's father. Both their eyes grow wide as if I've suddenly grown a second head on my shoulder. "We have done nothing to you!"

Then I feel it. What they're staring at. Not the tattoo or the rage in my eyes. The glowing red veins over my skin, my power making itself visible, and the cottage rocking underneath my feet. My eyes glow, the heat traveling to my hands clenched into fists and covered in Bren's blood. I appear to have fire in my veins, but ground is presenting itself. Somewhere deep down, lava spits. My power is warning them.

This isn't an Outburst; I'd know that from a mile away. This is my power speaking for itself and defending me when it knows my life was narrowly taken away.

Renit appears in my eye line, blocking Darlene's startled and huddled parents, and grabs onto my chin. Hard. The red veins disappear, the heat in my head diminished, and I blink away the pressure in my mind. The power of ground demands more attention. Demands fear.