Unravel Me: The Juliette Chronicles Book 2

glass.
    The message from the sky is clear: we are pissed.
    We are pissed and we will punish you and we will make you pay for the blood you spill so freely. We will not sit idly by, not anymore, not ever again. We will ruin you, is what the sky says to us.
    How could you do this to me? it whispers in the wind.
    I gave you everything , it says to us.
    Nothing will ever be the same again.
    I’m wondering why I still can’t see any sign of the army. I don’t see anyone else from Omega Point. I don’t see anyone at all. In fact, I’m starting to feel like this compound is a little too peaceful.
    I’m about to suggest we move when I hear a door slam open.
    “This is the last of them,” someone shouts. “She was hiding out over here.” A soldier is dragging a crying woman out from the compound we’re huddled against and she’s screaming, she’s begging for mercy and asking about her husband and the soldier barks at her to shut up.
    I have to keep the emotions from spilling out of my eyes, my mouth.
    I do not speak.
    I do not breathe.
    Another soldier jogs over from somewhere I can’t see. He shouts some kind of approving message and makes a motion with his hands that I don’t understand. I feel Kenji stiffen beside me.
    Something is wrong.
    “Toss her in with everyone else,” the second soldier shouts. “And then we’ll call this area clear.”
    The woman is hysterical. She’s screeching, clawing at the soldier, telling him she’s done nothing wrong, she doesn’t understand, where is her husband, she’s been looking for her daughter everywhere and what is happening, she cries, she screams, she flails her fists at the man gripping her like an animal.
    He presses the barrel of his gun to her neck. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot you right now.”
    She whimpers once, twice, and then she’s limp. She’s fainted in his arms and the soldier looks disgusted as he pulls her out of sight toward wherever they’re keeping everyone else. I have no idea what’s happening. I don’t understand what’s happening.
    We follow them.
    The wind and the rain pick up in pace and there’s enough noise in the air and distance between us and the soldiers that I feel safe to speak. I squeeze Kenji’s hand. He’s still the glue between me and Adam, projecting his powers to keep us all invisible. “What do you think is going on?” I ask.
    He doesn’t answer right away.
    “They’re rounding them up,” he says after a moment. “They’re creating groups of people to kill all at once.”
    “The woman—”
    “Yeah.” I hear him clear his throat. “Yeah, she and whoever else they think might be connected to the protests. They don’t just kill the inciters,” he tells me. “They kill the friends and the family members, too. It’s the best way to keep people in line. It never fails to scare the shit out of the few left alive.”
    I have to swallow back the vomit threatening to overpower me.
    “There has to be a way to get them out of there,” Adam says. “Maybe we can take out the soldiers in charge.”
    “Yeah, but listen, you guys know I’m going to have to let go of you, right? I’m already kind of losing strength; my Energy is fading faster than normal. So you’ll be visible,” Kenji says. “You’ll be a clearer target.”
    “But what other choice do we have?” I ask.
    “We could try to take them out sniper-style,” Kenji says. “We don’t have to engage in direct combat. We have that option.” He pauses. “Juliette, you’ve never been in this kind of situation before. I want you to know I’d respect your decision to stay out of the direct line of fire. Not everyone can stomach what we might see if we follow those soldiers. There’s no shame or blame in that.”
    I taste metal in my mouth as I lie. “I’ll be okay.”
    He’s quiet a moment. “Just—all right—but don’t be afraid to use your abilities to defend yourself,” he says to me. “I know you’re all weird about not wanting to hurt people or whatever, but these guys aren’t messing around. They will try to kill you.”
    I nod even though I know he can’t see me. “Right,” I say.
    “Yeah.” But I’m panicked through my mind.
    “Let’s go,” I whisper.

SIXTY-FIVE
    I can’t feel my knees.
    There are 27 people lined up, standing side by side in the middle of a big, barren field. Men and women and children of all different ages. All different sizes. All standing before what could be called a firing squad