Page 167 of Harnessed in Gold

I peer down. I no longer have the gun.

I look at Leo.

Who’s looking at Juniper.

As a hawk drops the gun into her waiting hands.

With a flick of her wrist, the rats disperse. She yanks Rime up by the shirt until he’s sitting, head hanging and eyelids fluttering. Sneering, she points the gun at his head.

A strangled whisper seems to echo off the trees,Leo, Leo, Leo, Leo, Leo. It’s me, trying to breathe. It’s me begging Leo to make this nightmare end.

Burdock approaches, the hawk on his shoulder. “The keys, plant weaver.”

Eyes glued to Rime, Leo digs in his front jeans pocket and produces his car keys. Burdock grabs them before I can blink and strides over to the car. It takes only one wrong guess for him to find the correct fob. He hits the button, the lights flicker, and the trunk latch pops.

Rime groans, his eyes opening. He knows what’s happening, but he’s too dazed to act.

Leo and I jump when Burdock slams the trunk closed. He stalks our way, the lead box in his hands. “Interesting piece, saoi.” He turns it this way and that, pretending to study it from all angles. “Research artifact?”

Leo doesn’t respond.

Suddenly impatient, Burdock opens the lid, snatches the bracelet, and flicks the box into the trees. “Hmm, so it’s not a ring.”

“Could be a decoy,” Juniper warns, attention still on Rime.

“It’s not,” Burdock assures her, flipping it between his thumb and middle finger. “I can feel it.”

I’m already planning, wondering if Leo is doing the same. Burdock and Juniper may have the bracelet, but they still have to get away. Their car isn’t close by, and that’s assuming they drove.

We just have to get that gun away from Juniper.

I glance up at the towering pines. Above them, the bare branches of the deciduous trees slash the moonlit sky. From where we are by the car, they seem too far away to use, but maybe with my help… I grab Leo’s hand, ready to feed him energy at a moment’s notice.

He turns to me, eyes flashing in alarm as he tries to wrest his hand free. I glare back at him, informing him without words that Iwilluse my power if I need to.

Just try to stop me.

For someone who has to orchestrate a getaway, Burdock is surprisingly calm. But not Juniper. Even from a few yards away, I can see the gun shaking in her hand.

My heartbeat pounds in my skull.

She’s going to kill Rime.

From behind us, Burdock shoves between Leo and me, breaking our connection. “Playtime’s over,” he calls to Juniper. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink. Instead, she stills the shaky gun by pressing the barrel to Rime’s skull. “A life for a life,” she snarls. “To restore the balance.”

Panicked, I reach for Leo, but Burdock and his hawk block my way. I’m petrified, afraid to move and startle Juniper into pulling the trigger.

“Juniper—” Burdock warns. “It’s time to go.” The bird on his shoulder twitches and flutters its wings, sidestepping and bobbing its head.

It seems… agitated.

Itfeelsagitated. Or is that Burdock?

“Now, Juniper!” he commands. “You’re wasting my time.” Annoyance, impatience, arrogance.I’m in charge, fall in line.

Between waves of panic, it hits me: Leo’s tunnel was a barely conceived idea, born of need and desperation. And because I strengthened his emotional connection to the roots, they understood his impulse and carried out his desires.