Finale

my chest.
    The tires popped over gravel, steadily rolling uphill, until at last the engine died. My captors unchained my feet, dragged me outside and through a door, and yanked the bag off my head.
    I was right; there were three of them. Two males, one female. They’d brought me to a log cabin, and they rechained my arms to a decorative wooden post that ran from the main level up to
the tie beams at the ceiling. No lights, but that may have well been because the power had been shut off. Furniture was sparse, and covered in white sheets. The air couldn’t have been more
than a degree or two warmer than outside, telling me the furnace wasn’t on. Whoever the cabin belonged to had closed up for winter.
    “Don’t bother screaming,” the bulkiest of them told me. “There isn’t another warm body around for miles.” He hid behind a cowboy hat and sunglasses, but his
precaution was unnecessary; I was positive I’d never seen him before. My heightened sixth sense identified all three as Nephilim. But what they wanted from me . . . I didn’t have a
clue.
    I jerked against the chains, but other than producing a weak grinding sound, they didn’t budge.
    “If you were a
real
Nephil, you’d be able to break out of the chains,” the Nephil in the cowboy hat snarled. He seemed to be the spokesman for the other two, who hung
back, limiting their communication with me to glares of disgust.
    “What do you want?” I repeated icily.
    Cowboy Hat’s mouth curled into a sneer. “I want to know how a little princess like yourself thinks she can pull off a Nephilim revolution.”
    I held his hateful gaze, wishing I could fling the truth in his face. There wasn’t going to be a revolution. Once Cheshvan started in less than two days, he and his friends
would
be possessed by fallen angels. Hank Millar had had the easy part: filling their heads with notions of rebellion and freedom. And now I was left to work the actual miracle.
    And I wasn’t going to.
    “I looked into you,” Cowboy Hat said, pacing in front of me. “I asked around and found out you’re dating Patch Cipriano, a fallen angel. How’s that relationship
working out for you?”
    I swallowed discreetly. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to.” I knew the danger I faced if my relationship with Patch were found out. I’d been careful, but it
was starting to look like not careful enough. “But I ended things with Patch,” I lied. “Whatever we had is in the past. I know where my loyalties lie. As soon as I became a
Nephil—”
    He thrust his face in mine. “You aren’t Nephilim!” His eyes raked over me with contempt. “Look at you. You’re pathetic. You don’t get the right to call
yourself Nephilim. When I look at you, I see human. I see a weak, sniveling, entitled little girl.”
    “You’re angry because I’m not as physically strong as you,” I stated calmly.
    “Who said anything about strength! You don’t have pride. There’s no sense of loyalty inside you. I respected the Black Hand as a leader because he earned that respect. He had a
vision. He took action. He named you his successor, but that means nothing to me. You want my respect? Make me give it to you.” He snapped his fingers savagely in my face. “
Earn
it
, princess.”
    Earn his respect? So I could be like Hank? Hank was a cheat and a liar. He’d promised his people the impossible with smooth words and flattery. He’d used and deceived my mom and
turned me into a pawn in his agenda. The more I thought about the position he’d put me in, leaving me to carry out his demented vision, the more maddened I grew.
    I met Cowboy Hat’s eyes coldly . . . then bucked my foot up with all the force I had and planted it squarely in his chest. He sailed backward into the wall and crumpled on the floor.
    The other two rushed forward, but my anger had started a fire inside me. A foreign and violent power swelled in me, and I strained against the chains, hearing the metal creak as the links
snapped apart. The chains dropped to the floor, and I didn’t waste a minute before lashing out with my fists. I pummeled the nearest Nephil in the ribs and gave the female a roundhouse kick.
My foot collided with her thigh, and I was amazed by the solid mass of muscle I found there. Never before in my life had I encountered a woman of such strength and durability.
    Dante was right; I didn’t know how to fight. A moment too late, I realized I should have followed through,