Bound by Prophecy (Descendants Series) - By Melissa Wright Page 0,3

ice and fire.

I leaned closer, my whisper of disbelief cut short by shooting pain.

I gasped, grabbing my shoulder, and then got my voice back. “Why did you drop me?”

Her mouth twisted with what might have been humor. One shoulder lifted. “I thought you’d be easier to handle this way.”

I stared at her open-mouthed. This was not my Brianna.

Chapter Two

Deception

I was lying to her.

This poor girl was clearly Brianna’s sister, and I couldn’t tell her the truth. There was no way I could reunite them.

It wasn’t safe.

“Emily,” I said, coming to a standstill despite the insistent tugging on my arm. “Where are you dragging me?”

Her brows dropped, unbelievably, lower. After a long, uncomfortably silent wait in the shed, she’d decided the policemen were no longer a threat and gone ahead with her mission, pulling me up from the floor to follow her through the maze of containers and outbuildings surrounding the warehouse. Her mood had decidedly not improved after my capture.

“I have to get my bag,” she explained, “and I can’t very well trust you not to run off, now can I?”

There was no accounting for the way her anger consistently caused the corner of my mouth to twitch, but I bit down against it. Her tone made everything she hadn’t said perfectly clear. I was a psychopathic kidnapper. No two ways about it.

She pulled forward again, and then, two steps later, came to an abrupt halt. I started to question the pause when she spun on me, her chest heaving long, angry breaths.

When she at last spoke, she punctuated each word. “How. Did. You. Know. My. Name?”

My lips pursed. I knew better than to answer.

I hadn’t actually known the name was hers. It had only been whispered in sleep, loosed in restless sobbing. I had assumed the name belonged to the girl’s mother. But I’d not known she had a twin. I hadn’t understood.

She stared fire at me.

“Your sister,” I finally answered. “Brianna.”

Her face twisted at the words, and I felt a sudden stab of guilt. I was protecting her, I reminded myself. Protecting us all. This was the only way.

And then she hauled off and punched me.

It might not have hurt if I wasn’t sporting a broken shoulder. I automatically gripped my arm at the elbow to support the injury, and cursed. For one brief instant, I considered leaving her. Touching her face, dropping her into a coma, and walking away.

But I couldn’t. Morgan would find her. Use her.

We stared at each other for a long moment, both of us knowing there was no other way.

And then she grabbed my arm again, yanking even harder as she tugged me behind her.

We passed the side entrance I’d used when spying on Morgan. Before I got caught, I thought bitterly, and it steeled my resolve. I had to help this girl. If for no other reason, Morgan could use her against Brianna.

Emily let go of my arm as we came to a pair of trash dumpsters, and slipped into the narrow space between the two. The smell was rancid, as if somehow this empty warehouse churned out fish guts instead of lawn furniture. And then I remembered even the furniture hadn’t been produced here in years. The metal scraps that littered the yard were aged, rusting.

So Morgan’s goons were using these buildings for something. Something that reeked of death. My eyes narrowed on the dumpster’s lid.

“Are you having an episode or something?” Emily snapped as she reappeared inches from me. “Is this part of your ‘condition’?”

I didn’t open the lid, which was probably a good thing, since this angry young woman would no doubt think I was responsible for whatever lay inside.

“You have your bag,” I said levelly. “What now?”

She shrugged the duffle bag further up her shoulder. Concentrated for a moment. Screwed up her mouth. “I don’t suppose you have a car or something nearby?”

“No, I don’t suppose I do.”

Her shoulder rose and fell in a sigh. “Well, then I guess we walk back.”

She turned to go and I reached up to stop her. The instant my hand touched her left shoulder, the bag dropped from her right and she spun to strike me.

“Whoa,” I said, throwing my hands up. “Easy.”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t touch me.”

I resisted the urge to bring up the dozen or so times she’d had a hold of me since we’d met. “Fine,” I answered. I waited a moment for her to calm. “What do you mean ‘back?’”

Her face relaxed to confusion. “Back to the house