Page 119 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“I can keep her safe.”

“At the cost of how many others?”

Gunfire comes from the ballroom, followed by men yelling.

When the shooting pauses, Father speaks. “She goes to the Vault. No one touches her until we determine what to do.”

“I’ll take her,” Jack says.

“No,” I answer.

Laurel moves out from behind me. “I’ll go.” She glances at Jack. “Fighting it will only make me look guilty.”

“I don’t care how it looks,” I say.

“I do.” She keeps her eyes lowered. “I already made one decision because I thought I understood the danger better than everyone else. I’m not making another.”

“You aren’t choosing this.”

“Yes, I am.”

The words carry an echo from Sinners.

That choice belongs to me too.

I want to argue that this is different. Fear and guilt have narrowed her choices until only one remains. But deciding her reasons are invalid because they don’t give me what I want would make me exactly the man I promised I wouldn’t be.

Laurel turns toward Carr. “I’ll go willingly.”

Then she looks at me. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know. Silas did this.”

“But I might have stopped him.”

The denial rises inside me. Then I see Stretson on the floor again. His body covering Juliette’s. Her hand reaching out from under him. Laurel watches the words die before I can speak them. She doesn’t protest or demand I defend her. She simply stops looking at me like I might make this better.

“I don’t know.”

The truth is all I have left to give her. It’s also the cruelest thing I could have chosen.

“Neither do I.” Tears spill before she can blink them back. “That’s what I’ll think about every time I close my eyes.”

“Laurel.”

“And every person who died will be there when I open them again.”

More gunfire echoes from the back of the house. Someone yells my name. A Brother staggers through the kitchen door with blood pouring down his neck. “They’ve broken through the west entrance. Rebecca’s pinned behind the stairs.”

“Go,” Laurel says. “They need you.”

Jack’s men fall into place on either side of her. She walks into the hallway without resistance, her shoulders rigid and her head held high.

An explosion rips through the kitchen. Part of the ceiling crashes down beyond the swinging door.

I take one step after her, but she doesn’t look back.

Another scream comes from the ballroom. It cuts off abruptly.