We The Forlorn (Book #2) (Completed)

37. Going Somewhere, Princess?

Helga whipped her gun up to meet theirs, but Bo couldn't access hers without toppling Adam. Besides, they would still be hopelessly outnumbered.

Clayton, still a few hundred feet away, smiled as he stepped forward and held out his hands. "Well, we thought maybe we'd never see you again! But it looks like you were just getting some trash out of the garbage before you left." He nodded at Adam, and Bo gritted her teeth.

"We should have killed him back on the ship," Aston snarled, gripping his gun so tightly that it shivered and jumped.

"But see, then we would have a situation where the Forlorn look upon their poor dead leader as a symbol of rebellion. Nothing lights the fire of men's hearts more than someone dying to further the cause," Clayton said, signaling to his men to follow him as he walked toward Bo's group. "It's much better to crush the trust they put in their hero. When they find out their precious leader cracked and told us where they were hiding, I don't think many will be willing to keep fighting."

Bo inhaled sharply. They'd been torturing Adam so that he would tell where the Forlorn had hidden themselves? She glanced at Adam by her side, at his profile and the way he stared in defiance at Clayton, even though his ribs were broken and he was bleeding from multiple cuts. He'd never tell Clayton anything, and that filled Bo with even more love than she'd felt before.

Bo tightened her grip on Adam's waist. "Adam would never tell you anything," she yelled.

Clayton laughed. "I know. We tried hard, but he's got lips of stone. But—" He was now close enough to throw a stone at... if there had been any stones around. He stood directly in front of the hoppers, blocking any chance Bo and the rest had of grabbing one and hotwiring it before being shot. "I don't think he'll be as quiet when we string up the little kitten, or rip the braid off the temptress, or see what dances the nomad has for the men. Or," he stared her straight in the face. "What it sounds like to hear the throat of the one person he loves slit open as slowly as possible."

Adam snarled, jerking forward, but Bo held him steady. "You won't touch them," he snapped.

"Well, my guns say I will," Clayton said. "Aston will be more than happy to dispose of the girl who took everything from him. And I'm sure he'll get lots of satisfaction from knowing that the slower it is, the more it will drive you insane."

Bo's eyes slung to Aston, who glared at them from behind Clayton.

"Aston, don't do this. You were my brother. You love my father, you love me."

Aston laughed, cold and hard. "I don't know anything about love. All I know is survival, and that is best done alone."

"You wouldn't kill me," Bo insisted, but she saw the hardness in Aston's eyes. Whatever had happened to him after he'd left their camp, it was enough to turn him into the monster she'd always thought the aliens were.

"Well, not to interrupt your desperate begging," Clayton said. "But we do have other things to do, and I'd like to find the Forlorn as fast as possible."

He turned to his men, and while his gaze was directed elsewhere, Khan leaned forward toward Bo. His voice was low, only loud enough for her and the others to hear.

"They must have given Silver a new airship, because his old one is parked over there behind that tank." Bo followed his gaze to where the familiar ship sat a few hundred yards away. She quickly returned her eyes to the militia, hoping they hadn't noticed what she was focusing on.