The Fire and the Sky (Book 3 of the... - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

Overcome with emotion, May let out a primal cry of frustration. A part of her wanted to hit something—to drive her fist through the wall just to give all the anger and despair somewhere to go—but she knew it wouldn't fix anything. Instead, she whirled around and stomped away from the others. Being near them only made things worse.
May stormed to the stairs and peered up. There, crouched at the very top, Gaten blinked down at her. With a sigh, she motioned for him to come down.
"It's okay, buddy," she said, softening her voice as best she could. "Your mom and dad are here."
"What?" Rue gasped in disbelief, lurching forward toward the stairs.
The sound of her voice piqued Gaten's attention. Instantly he was on his feet.
"Mommy?" he asked, his high little voice jittering with every step he bounded down. May stepped out of the way, letting Rue take her place at the base of the stairs. Rue let out a joyous cry at the sight of her son and immediately broke down. Gaten leaped from the stairs into her arms. She clutched him to her desperately, sobbing into the soft ringlets of his unkempt hair.
Then, before May could move away, Rue looked up and caught her eye.
"Thank you," Rue said. She smiled and May wondered if she had ever seen her do so before. "Thank you for saving our baby."
The only response May could muster was a weak nod.
May watched this tearful reunion between mother and son, quickly joined by Connor, as if through a television screen. This had been exactly what she and Em had set out to accomplish when they first agreed to help WIND. This was the reason they couldn't just walk away. She was happy for Rue and Connor, having spent countless hours imagining just how gutted they must have been and knowing how equally desperate she would have been in their situation. She was relieved for Gaten. There was no doubt a lot of healing in his future, but at least he was home with the people who loved him most. But still, May knew these things rather than felt them. Knowing Em was in immediate danger had created an emotional chasm between her and what was supposed to be an important victory. The only thing she felt was numb.
While Rue and Connor fussed and cried over their son, May turned and shuffled into the kitchen. Jeremy and Priva followed without speaking, and kept their distance—though May couldn't tell if it was out of respect or something else.
"What's the plan then?" May asked, rounding on the two of them. "How are we going to get Em back?"
Priva shot Jeremy a tense look and folded her arms across her chest. For his part, Jeremy gaped, his mouth trying to work on words that just wouldn't come. May glared between the two of them.
"Well? Come on, we're wasting time."
From the hallway, where the young family was still huddled together, Rue gasped and let out a heartbreaking wail. Before the others could react, Connor blew into the room.
"We have to go," he said, addressing Jeremy and Priva in turn. "Right now. Grab only what you can carry."
Jeremy hesitated. He looked to May, his expression conflicted, but Connor turned back to face him with a strong hand on his slight shoulder.
"We don't have a choice, Jeremy. Now, go."
May was confused. "Go where? What's happening?"
Connor stepped toward her, pausing to whisper something to Priva, who nodded and left without a word. His eyes—the same ones he had passed down to his child—were glassy and betrayed his regret. "I'm sorry, May. We can't take you with us."
"What?" May snapped. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end—something was wrong. "No, you're not ditching me again. We need to save Em!"
For someone as formidably built as Connor, he moved fast. So fast, in fact, that May didn't have time to process what was happening when he lunged for her. His arms encircled her like a lasso and pinned her with breathtaking force.
"What are you doing?" May cried, kicking her legs wildly. As she had more than once already in her life, she aimed her feet for knees and ankles, but Connor was ready for her. None of her strikes landed. She felt like she was encased in cement.
"I'm so sorry," Connor grunted in her ear as he lifted her off the ground and carried her across the room. "I really am. I hope you'll be able to forgive us one day."
Out of the corner of her eye, May saw Priva dash back into the room. Her arms were laden with thick rope. As if he were handling a doll rather than a full-grown human, Connor sat May down in one of the kitchen chairs and held her in place while Priva bound her hands and feet.
May did her best to fight back, thrashing and screaming until her lungs ached, but she was easily overpowered.
"Why are you doing this?" she shrieked. For a moment, Priva got too close and May snapped her teeth at her, narrowly missing the flesh of her arm as she pulled away. May felt wild, like a fox in a snare. "I trusted you!"
Rue stood in the kitchen doorway with Gaten in her arms. Her expression was a mix of despondence and rage.
"We can't help you, May. Not with Em, not with the wishing star, not with any of it," she said. Her voice trembled.
"I fucking knew it," May shouted, struggling against her binds. Already she could feel the bite of the coarse rope cutting into her wrists, but she didn't care. "You sold us out! This whole time we were just bait to get you what you wanted!"
"No, May," Connor insisted. He crouched in front of her as if begging her to hear him. "It's not like that at all. The Loyals have left us with no choice—the only reason we weren't killed on the spot for what we've done is because they forced us to stand down instead."
May couldn't bring herself to feel bad for them this time. "You cowards. After everything Em has done for you, you're just going to turn your backs on her when she needs you most? I should have known you only cared about protecting yourselves."
At this, Rue stormed forward. She planted Gaten—wide-eyed and baffled Gaten—on the floor in front of her and tugged the collar of his sweater down to reveal a scar.
No, it wasn't quite healed enough to be called a scar. The wound was still a painful shade of red. Evidence of where stitches had been not that long ago puckered the boy's otherwise smooth, unmarred skin.
The Loyals had implanted the same device on Gaten they had long used to control his parents and their friends.
May felt her stomach turn. "But... he's just a child."
"Oh, please," Rue scoffed, bundling her son back into her arms. "Has anything that has happened so far suggested these monsters have a moral compass?"
Connor rose, creating a barrier between his wife and May with his body. "My love, I'll take care of her. Go grab our things—I'll meet you out front."
Rue didn't argue. Casting one last devastated look at May, she hurried from the room. In that moment, May realized the others had left too. It was just her, bound and helpless, and Connor. Their silence filled the room to bursting.
May saw no point in arguing or pleading with him. For starters, Connor had already turned his back on her and was rooting around in the drawers for something. But, more than that, she was tired of trying to reason with WIND. The team had long since proven their commitment to poor choices and questionable plans. If she was going to get out of this, she was going to have to rely on herself to do so.
While May struggled, she could hear the others racing around the house. One by one, footsteps hammered down the stairs. She heard two sets leave through the front door. The third stopped at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating a moment, before turning for the kitchen.
"We're ready," Jeremy's voice, low and without inflection, came from the hallway. He hadn't come close enough for May to see him. Connor nodded.
"Okay, I'll be right there."
As Jeremy's footsteps receded down the hall, May changed her mind.
"If you ever really cared about Audrey, you wouldn't walk away right now," she shouted.
Jeremy stopped. Connor gazed down the hallway after him and May held her breath.
The moment hung.
And then he walked away.
That was the moment May lost hope. Despite herself, she started to cry, and it only made her angrier. Growling, she thrashed and pulled. She felt unhinged.
"Stop," Connor said, turning away from the counter to face her. "You're going to hurt yourself."
"What do you care—"
May froze.
Connor's hands hung loosely at his sides. Clutched carefully in one was a knife, gleaming in the yellow kitchen light. It was small with serrated teeth—the kind of knife used to saw through tough meat.
Her blood ran cold. "What are you doing?"
"Relax," Connor replied, coming to crouch by her side. May tried to flinch away, but there was no use. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Before she could scream or argue or both, Connor gently pried open one of her tightly balled fists with the fingers of his empty hand and pressed the handle of the knife into it.
"You're a tough woman," he said, smiling sadly at her. "You're going to figure this all out—I know it. Use this to cut yourself loose. By the time you do, we'll be gone."
May didn't believe she was out of danger until his hands pulled away. As she watched him stand, her anger flooded back, hotter than before.
"Gee, thanks."
"I really am sorry, May," Connor said. He sounded genuine. May was sure he was.
"I really don't care."
Connor sighed. "Fair enough." He strode across the room, pausing at the doorway that led to the hall. He looked back over his shoulder at her one last time.
"Good luck out there."