Marked

Chapter Forty-Seven

She moved up onto her knees, and realizing that her legs were now functioning, she made a rash decision.

There was no way Hector was getting out of there alive unless she did something about it.

Without a second thought, she yanked the grenades from his vest and jumped out onto the middle of the street. Except her legs weren't as strong as she'd anticipated and she fell hard onto her knees.

"Rachel, what the hell are you doing?"

Hector followed after her and as soon as he came into view, bullets began to pelt the ground where he stood, missing him by mere inches.

Rachel scrambled to her feet and jumped in front of Hector, shielding as much of his body as she could with her own.

She spread her arms out and faced the poachers. Almost immediately the bullets stopped, though she could still hear their echo ricocheting down the city block.

She wondered if Nicolas had broadcasted her face to every poacher so that they knew not to shoot her. At least, she hoped that was what was happening now or else they were both dead.

"Stop!" She screamed. "Everyone stay where you are."

The poachers were lined up perfectly across from her, about fifty feet away, in a uniform way that only the voice in their heads could command them to do. The buildings behind them began to glitter as rays of sunlight hit them at an angle, depositing gentle golden rays upon their uniforms, turning them from a dove gray to an incandescent taupe.

She held the grenades high in the air so they could get a clear look.

"Hector, go find cover. Please, just trust me."

"I'm not leaving you alone—"

"Please," She begged. "They won't hurt me."

"Rachel—"

"I can't focus on what I need to do while I'm worried about you being killed. Please."

"Damn it, Rachel."

She heard him shuffling away and saw him step safely behind the metal of a car although part of his body remained uncovered as he kept his gun trained on the poachers.

She'd never been a gambler but on this, she was willing to bet that Nicholas's love would be enough to keep the poachers before her from shooting her dead.

"I know you can hear me, Nicolas," She shouted. She glanced around her, watching the massive screens change from advertisements to an image of the man who claimed to be her father.

His temple where she'd struck him was still bloody; he hadn't even bothered to clean up.

"You let them out of here now or I swear I'll take the pins out of these babies and take as many of you as I can with me."

"You're being unreasonable," Nicolas said to her.

"No, I'm being realistic." She spat at him. "Guess I got that from you. So you either let them out of here, unharmed or you can watch me die."

"You wouldn't do that," Nicolas said gently. "If you kill yourself, Rachel, who is going to keep your boyfriend safe? With you gone, he is just another forehead to mark."

Rachel glanced at Hector, still crouched by the car, his gun trained on the dozens of poachers across from her. It was a mistake. When she looked back at the screen, Nicolas was tilting his head, studying her.

She gritted her teeth and cursed herself. She took a few more steps toward the poachers, keeping her target in mind. Just a few more feet, just a few more steps should do it.