We The Forlorn (Book #2) (Completed)

30. A Leader Forged From Hell

"What's going on?" Esme asked, appearing from below decks with wide eyes and covering her ears. She must have been lured up by the sound of gunfire, but Bo wished she had just stayed below. She might have remained hidden to the militia and gotten away. But now they would have seen her.

Bo sighed. "Silver here has decided that his greed for gold was more important than the fate of the hundreds of people who rely on Adam and the Forlorn."

Silver shrugged and smiled. "If it's not my fate, then I'm not too interested," he said.

Helga scoffed. "Disgusting."

Before Silver could reply, if he even wanted to reply at all, the militia tanks had surrounded the ship and forced it to stop and lower to the dust. It groaned as it set down, and Silver stood back from the controls with his arms crossed. Helga and Khan turned, looking like they would fight the militia men who poured onto the decks, but Adam held out an arm to stop them.

"Put the guns down," he said, glancing at Khan and Helga. "There's no use fighting them. We'lll give up this battle and hope we get another chance to win the war."

"That's a pretty big hope," Helga muttered, but she did as she was told and dropped her gun to the ground, kicking it toward the militia men who even in the perilous situation still stared in awe at her beauty. Khan didn't part as easily with his gun, but when Adam gave him a long and meaningful stare, he finally dropped it and stepped back. Adam and Bo followed suit a few seconds later, and as soon as all the Forlorn was disarmed, the militia swooped in with power-cuffs that clamped into place with powerful electric currents.

The men parted to reveal Clayton strolling onto the deck from the top of a tank, smiling and running a hand through his white-shocked hair. He steepled his fingers in front of his face, grinning over his fingertips, as he circled Bo and Adam.

"Well, well, it looks like we've caught ourselves a few little pests in an embarrassingly obvious trap," he said. "Did you really think trusting a random criminal was the best idea?"

"Unlike you, Clayton, we like to give chances to people. Let them have a chance at being human," Adam bit back.

Clayton sighed and turned to look at Helga and Esme, standing side by side. Ignoring Adam, he walked their way, scanning them from head to foot with his eyes. "Ah, the enchantress still sides with you, I see," he said, brushing his fingers along Helga's shoulder and under her chin. She snarled and lunged toward him, but the militia soldier behind her grabbed her just before she made any contact. Clayton laughed. "Don't worry, darling, I know better than to think any kind of civility can be gotten from your second-hand body." His eyes moved from Helga to Esme, who shrunk back as he stepped in front of her. "Now this one, on the other hand, looks a little more friendly."

He grabbed her wrists, just above the power-cuffs, and pulled her in so close that she was pressed against his chest. Her eyes widened as his breath stirred her black curls, and he gripped her chin in one hand. "A nomad?" he said, his eyes boring into hers. "I've heard so many stories."

"Leave her alone!" This came from Khan. He shook even with two militia soldiers restraining him, and they looked like they were barely holding onto him. His tanned face was red and mottled, and his teeth bared. "Or I'll kill you."

Clayton drew in a breath, but stepped away from Esme, releasing her. She stumbled back a few feet, almost relieved to be back in the clutches of the soldier who held her with only brute efficiency.