Page 46 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

Chapter Thirteen

M iranda froze.

The world froze.

Devin faced Graves like he was about to enact the worst sort of violence and enjoy it. It wasn’t Graves’s fate that made her heart stop. It was the enforcer who leapt to prevent Devin from reaching him.

Miranda shouted a warning, but her voice seemed to carry in slow motion, the sound muted to her ears even as Devin charged.

Graves flailed backward, falling over himself in a comical parody of an escape. His collected superiority lost the moment real danger threatened him.

But he was not Devin’s target. Mid-sprint, Devin threw the knife in his hand, catching Miranda’s captor in the shoulder and allowing her to pull free.

With his forward momentum he slid, kicking out the legs of the last enforcer so that they toppled over the railing and fell with a scream and a horrid, echoing squelch.

The scream would draw every available enforcer to them.

Dodging past Graves, Devin headed toward the office. To Cordelia.

And Graves seized the opportunity, fleeing faster than Miranda could blink.

There wasn’t time to dwell on the effervescent emotions brimming in Miranda’s chest.

Enemies charged for the stairs from every direction.

On the farther end of the warehouse, Miranda’s mother sent a stack of crates tumbling end over end.

The thick crates bounced on each step as the heavy wood fractured and cracked and crushed all in its path, effectively blocking that staircase.

Her mother was supposed to signal Gideon, but instead she had climbed from the roof and unsheathed her swords.

Miranda followed Devin to the office. He had already kicked the door in, but it was empty.

“No! Where did he take her?”

Devin pointed. “I don’t think he did, love.”

She followed his hand, noting a smashed window and, finally, taking in the chaos of the previously ordered office that suggested a struggle. Had they tossed her sister out the window?

Miranda ran to it, looking down for a sign of Cordelia’s body, but there was nothing. Heart squeezing as, once again, she had no idea of her sister’s fate, she glanced up at the crisscrossing walkways that comprised the upper floor.

Her eyes scanned for a moment before finding her. Cordelia, sprinting down a walkway toward the dangers below. Her nightdress was torn, but there was no sign of blood, only dirt smeared in the once pristine white linen.

Miranda didn’t question. She raced to her sister.

“Delia!”

Cordelia turned and a wide smile spread over her face. “Miri!” Miranda embraced her sister, spinning her off her feet, then held her at arm’s length to inspect for damage. “I’m fine, honestly. You can let me go now.”

“How did you get away?” Miranda asked, unable to stop smiling. Her sister was okay.

“Oh,” Cordelia shrugged. “I’m slippery when I wish to be, but more importantly is that our mother?”

Cordelia pointed to the woman, now on the ground floor, hacking through enforcers with her dual blades like they were mere weeds in her garden.

Even after all these years her mother had not forgotten her training.

When too many overpowered enforcers converged, her mother used her surroundings to compensate for the discrepancy, utilizing their makeshift wall system to create obstacles or uprooting shelves to divert their path.

She wisely favored her agility to dodge their attacks, even blocking a blow from one of them might prove painful, and with the right timing a punch would miss her and hit their ally.

Miranda had watched her mother do a few demonstrations when she was younger and, factually, she knew her mother had gone through the same rigorous and thorough training as herself.

Yet, watching her leap and twist, navigate the space with precision and purpose, and leave a wake of destruction and death was too jarring.

This couldn’t be her mother. She commanded tea rooms, not converging enemy forces.

Or, it seemed, Miranda had to accept that her mother commanded both.

“Watch out, Miri,” Cordelia tugged Miranda to follow her. A group of enforcers had ascended the stairs closest to them.

“Stay behind me,” Miranda yelled as she drew her sword.

The walkway forced the enemy into a side-by-side line of two bodies at a time.

Miranda looked for Devin, but he wasn’t in sight.

Did he go after Graves? She wouldn’t blame him.

If his revenge was what he was here for, then she hoped he got it.

She already owed him more than she could ever return.

Miranda surveyed her surroundings as she met swords with the first wave of enforcers.

Each time her sword connected, the power they wielded threatened to knock her weapon from her hands.

She was not going to win this by normal means.

She had to adjust, reconsider, and make use of her surroundings.

Just as her mother was doing. Her only goal was to get Cordelia to safety.

A hard downward swing forced Miranda to a knee. Her sword tip sank into the wooden planks of the floor. A simple tug wouldn’t free it.

On her left was the outer wall of the building and on the other side, a railing, and past the railing were parallel catwalks.

The wall was bare, just a flat sheet of metal, but over the edge of the railing were ropes and pulleys for heavier cargo.

Below was too far to jump, though in a pinch they’d survive it if necessary.

Miranda side-stepped an incoming blow, kicking at the enforcer’s arm so their swing overcorrected and their weapon went spinning over the railing.

Miranda took out a knife and threw it, the blade sinking into the enforcer’s chest. It seemed there were endless reinforcements and she was running out of blades.

While Miranda struggled to keep the enemy from reaching them, their position was gradually losing ground. The enforcers kept advancing and Miranda kept retreating. They were nearing the set of stairs her mother had filled with shipping crates. Her mother.

Miranda searched while navigating attacks and keeping forward momentum, tugging her sister this way and that to keep her from harm.

Her mother was fighting her own battle on the ground floor. They locked eyes for a moment as Miranda looked to Cordelia and back, her mother followed the motions and signaled her understanding with a nod. If she could get Cordelia to her mother, they could escape easier from the ground floor.

Miranda took Cordelia’s hand and put some distance between them and the enforcers, running instead of fighting.

Clear of their forces for a moment, Miranda kicked at the railing. Once. Twice.

The enforcers were gaining. Sweat started to bead on her forehead.

She kicked again, the railing gave. The final blow and the railing broke with a screeching metallic groan.

She pried the metal tube of the railing free just in time to swipe at an enforcer’s face.

Still, it had been too close, and she lost her footing as she desperately tried to keep herself poised between them and Cordelia.

Strategically, she realized there were too many variables limiting her. She was alone, guarding her sister, no resources, and little room for movement or cover.

Miranda might not win.

Her mind spun, ticking through options that now wouldn’t include her own survival, all that mattered was Cordelia’s survival.

She considered pushing her sister over the newly exposed ledge and hope her mother caught her in time, because they were about to be pinned down and her metal bar was already starting to bend and dent and wouldn’t hold much longer.

“Looks like you could use a hand, love.”

Miranda’s head whirled around, and there was Devin on a parallel walkway, in just his shirt and vest once again and how did he still look immaculate when she was covered in sweat and gore?

Or, maybe he only seemed perfect, because she had not expected him to return and yet she was not at all surprised that he had. The fact that he was here did things to her heart she couldn’t explore right then.

He had somehow wrangled the thick ropes and he used the heavy, metal pulley mechanism to swing one over.

She took it, grabbed Cordelia, and jumped.

Devin caught her on the upper swing and held the rope steady with one hand, pulling her up with the other. The enforcers had already changed course, sprinting for the connecting path.

“We need to get Cordelia to my mother,” Miranda said, panicked.

“Understood.” Devin heaved the rope further onto the walkway, then started to force the thick, resistant cord into some kind of knot.

He was panting when he finished, but there was a loop in the rope now, and he tested it with his foot, pushing against it with his boot to see if it would unravel. When it held, he turned to her sister.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Wilde. May I?”

Cordelia looked to Miranda.

“You can trust him,” Miranda said, earning a quick look from Devin. His brow raised incredulously. “With getting you to safety. Beyond that, who can say.”

He smiled as he continued adjusting the rope. “Hate to be predictable.”

Assured, Cordelia gave him a single nod and took his offered hand.

Devin lifted Cordelia with ease, hefting her to sit on the railing as he kept her steady. He aligned her foot into the loop and pushed the rope into her hands.

“Put your weight on your right foot, and do not let go. Can you do that, Cordelia?”

Cordelia looked stricken for the first time since this whole mess started. Her sister nodded, unspeaking.

“I heard you in Graves’s office. There’s not many who would speak to Graves like that.

You’re as strong as your sister. Which is why I know you can handle this.

” He winked, like an incorrigible scoundrel and Miranda was torn between throttling him for it and kissing him for putting her sister at ease.

Red bloomed on Cordelia’s cheeks and her only response was to nod silently.