Free Retribution by B. C. Burgess

mind, and I'm not going to change it.”
    “That's not how it works, Quin.”
    “That's how it's working this time, Layla.”
    She took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. “You can't force me to do this.”
    His jaw tightened as he stared into her beautiful and angry eyes. “Are you going to leave without me?”
    Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly closed it, her eyes narrowing as she icily whispered. “I'm not asking people to die for me.”
    “You're right.” He knew what was coming, so he reluctantly loosened his hold. “You're not, but I am.”
    “But... You can't... This isn't...” Her face turned red as she looked for an escape, but there wasn’t one. She would never leave him. He knew it, and she knew it, so threats would be useless and immature.
    Layla’s nostrils flared as her lungs burned, and she clenched her fists, digging nails into her palms. The fact that he could control her was nothing new. A week had passed since she realized he had the power to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. But the fact that he was willing to use that power to strip away hers was something new, and it pissed her off. He'd made her weak and helpless, everything she was tired of being. Blah!
    Soaring from his lap, she flew into the master bedroom and magically slammed the door.
    Quin watched her go, and it felt like she'd taken half of him with her. He was riddled with holes that only her touch and forgiveness would fill, and it left him drained of energy and confidence. He ran a hand down his face then looked at his dad. “She didn't like that.”
    Kemble sympathetically shrugged. “It's for her own good. She’d never accept help, no matter how badly she wants to stay.” He paused, sadly searching the air around his son. Then he bowed his head. “It's the best solution, Quinlan.”
    Quin wasn't so sure and feared his decision would haunt him in more ways than one. He stood while glancing at the bedroom door. Then he looked to Serafin and Caitrin. “We need to figure this out, and we need to do it quickly. The eight of us are strong, but it's not enough, and I won't let anyone march to certain death. We need more help, but the guilt is heavy enough without involving innocent bystanders, so let’s make a list of people with personal vendettas against the Unforgivables. Maybe some of them harbor a death wish and would jump at a chance to fight. We need volunteers, trustworthy volunteers. If they're shady, we don't want them around. Oh, and we need a place to practice – an open, fire-safe area much bigger than our lawn. Please put all your resources to work on this right away. If we want to survive, we need help. Layla and I will be home later this evening.” He turned and headed for his angry angel, but paused with this hand on the doorknob, the rhythm of his wounded heart resounding in his ears. “See you guys after a while.”  
    And with a deep breath, he opened the door.

Chapter 5

    When Layla heard Quin enter the room, she buried her face further in her pillow and concealed her aura, barely resisting the urge to angrily kick the bed.  
    Blah! She'd just released the emotions. Now the damn things had to be sucked back in. Hiding her aura ate at her already marred insides, and she just wanted to be alone so she could let it go and wallow in her grief.  
    Quin's hand flew to his heart when she hid the lovely yet haunted haze, and he yearned to pull her into his arms, force her to take all her frustrations out on him. But he didn't sit or lie down when he reached the side of the bed. He just watched her tense form while clutching his aching chest.
    “I need some time,” she mumbled.
    Her voice was muffled by grief and cotton, but he clearly sensed her anger and betrayal. “Okay,” he agreed, summoning a chair and sitting beside the bed.
    “Alone,” she huffed.
    He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, thankful he no longer had to stay stern. It had been beyond difficult to