"Missions?" Mira tossed back at him. "The Order doesn't go around abducting civilians or disrupting diplomatic assemblies. The Order doesn't sabotage peace talks or appoint themselves the world's judge and jury whenever it suits them."
"Maybe they should." Kellan's eyes blazed with embers of outrage in the dim light of the bunker. "We do what needs to be done, because it must be done."
He started to stalk ahead, away from the parked vehicles and into a wide-mouthed tunnel.
"So self-righteous," she called after him. "I hope you're willing to die for your convictions."
He pivoted now and stormed back to her, his expression dark, thoughtful, even as his irises radiated with amber fire. "Yeah, I guess I am willing to die for what I believe in. Don't tell me you wouldn't be too."
She stood there, unable to argue. He knew her too well to believe any denial she tried to fling at him. Nor did he give her the chance. His fingers clamped down around her wrist and he hauled her after him, through the black tunnel and up a gradual incline, into another bunker. She recognized this one as the rebel base's living quarters.
Kellan's crew was in the sparsely furnished, cavernous main room of the place. Candice was cleaning firearms with the man called Vince and the other one they'd called Chaz. Doc was seated at a weathered metal table, eating from a tin that looked to be old MRE military rations. Straddling a backward-facing chair beside him was a blueberry-haired waif with multiple facial and ear piercings. Her fingers were flying over the touchpad of a tablet computer, not skipping even the smallest beat, when she and the rest of the rebels turned their heads to gape at Kellan and his obviously unexpected companion.
Candice was the first to find her voice. "Um . . . everything okay, boss?"
He gave a curt nod, his hand still fastened tightly around Mira's wrist. "I'm altering course a bit. There's nothing to be gained from releasing one of our captives right now. So, I've decided she stays."
Vince scowled. "You think that's wise, considering who she is and all? We keep one of their own, it could make us a target of the Order."
Kellan's reply was swift and without inflection. "We're already a target of the Order. As soon as word reaches them - which is only a matter of time, hours at most - we become enemies of Lucan Thorne and his warriors."
Vince considered, raking thick fingers through his shaggy dishwater blond hair. Then he nodded as if suddenly understanding, an unfriendly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "In other words, you think we may need some leverage with the Order. Some kind of bargaining chip if things go south with Ackmeyer?"
Kellan growled, pinning his man with a lethal, amber-bright glare. "This female - this warrior," he said, addressing Vince and the others together, "is mine alone to deal with. She stays under my watch and under my handling only. Understood?"
An immediate and unanimous chorus of murmured agreement answered him, but Kellan was already moving on with Mira in tow. He led her away from his rebel crew and into his private quarters. Mira didn't have to ask if the modest chamber belonged to Kellan; she could smell his scent all around her, the dark, spicy warmth that had long ago been branded into all of her senses.
He closed the door behind them and finally released his hold on her. "If you cooperate with me, Mira, I will not feel it necessary to restrain you."
"I'm touched," she said, glowering at him as she watched him pull a blanket off the lone bed and toss it to the floor.
"But if you make a move to escape," he went on, not missing a beat, "or if you attempt to interfere with my mission goals in any way, I will put you in a cell until this is over."
She studied him as he spoke so stiffly, watched his robotic movements and the way his eyes never lit on her for more than the most fleeting instant. He hated being a party to this, maybe as much as she did. But only he held the power to end it.
"It's not too late to stop this now, Kellan. Obviously your friends are on edge about this crime they've committed, afraid of what the Order will do. They should be afraid. Treason charges are a capital offense, carrying a capital penalty. You have to know that."
Kellan didn't answer, but she watched a tendon tick furiously in his rigid jaw.
"You can release Ackmeyer to my custody before it goes any further." She took a deep breath, still trying to process how it was possible that she could be standing in front of Kellan Archer, pleading with him to turn himself in as a rebel mastermind, before he died a second time. "Release Jeremy Ackmeyer and me tonight, Kellan, and I will tell Lucan and the GNC that you were remorseful. That you and your followers treated us well."
He swung an arch look at her, one dark brow quirked in bleak humor. "Not much of a bargain from where I'm standing."
Mira gave a slow shake of her head. The ache in her breast was sharp at the thought of Kellan facing charges, but what he'd done - even so far - could not be excused without some kind of recompense. "Lucan will be fair, you know that. As fair as he can be."
Kellan grunted. "And if Ackmeyer should die?"
Panic arrowed through her. "You said you didn't kill him. That you wouldn't - "
"If he agrees to my terms," Kellan reminded her. "But if he doesn't . . ."
Mira's throat constricted at the mercenary tone of his voice. "If you don't get what you want from him, you'll have no qualms about killing him in cold blood."
"To save thousands, maybe millions of other lives?" Kellan nodded. "I've killed for less than that under the banner of war. So have you."