Edge of Defiance (Edge of Collapse, #5)

by Kyla Stone

The militia woman shot a murderous glance back at Quinn, the purple knot on her forehead like a bulbous third eye. “The next time I see you…” Quinn pushed herself to her feet, her legs like jelly. She brushed dirty snow from her pants and coat with shaking hands. She never took her eyes off the woman. “Looking forward to it.”

“You keep looking at me funny,” he said, his gaze straight ahead. “So? Maybe you’re funny-looking.” “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that’s rude?” “Actually, I was raised by wolves.” Liam smirked. “That makes a lot of sense.” “Thank you.”

She was glad he was here. The altercation at the hardware store had unnerved her. How fast it had escalated. How helpless and scared she’d felt. She hated feeling that way.

“Vik was going to kill that boy. I saw it in his eyes. It went from a situation I could ignore to one I couldn’t. I chose not to ignore it.” “Jonas was being stupid. They all were.” “He was. These days, stupid can get you killed. Remember that.”

“I want you to train me to fight.” “That’s not a question.” “Will you train me?”

“I can teach you self-defense, like I’ve been teaching Hannah.” “I want to fight,” Quinn said. “Not like those stupid boys. Not with glass bottles and snowballs and slingshots, but for real.” “Aren’t you sixteen?” “So what? Boys that young and younger fought in the Civil War.” He narrowed his eyes. “Those were boys. You’re a girl.” “I fail to see how a pair of boobs will negatively affect my ability to pull a trigger. If it’s strength you’re worried about, I’m strong. I can get stronger.”

“You’re too young.” “I’m old enough.” “It’s too risky.” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “In case you haven’t noticed, visiting the hardware store is a life-endangering mission these days. I can do it. I want to do it. I’m not afraid.” “You should be.” “Okay, fine.” She hesitated for a fraction of a second. “I get scared. I’m scared. Isn’t everyone? Only fools and politicians aren’t scared of war. That won’t stop me from fighting, though. I can fight scared. I’ve done it.”

“In the shed, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t know how to stop them from hurting me. But I want to. I know how to hunt. With my slingshot, I can nail the bullseye nine times out of ten at one hundred feet.”

“You’re good with that slingshot. I’ll give you that.” “It’s not good enough. I need to be better. I want to fight for Fall Creek. For Gran and Milo and everyone else who can’t fight for themselves. I need to.” He halted and turned to look at her, his expression stony. He was so tough and hard, no give in him at all. “No.” Her stomach plummeted. She met his gaze without flinching. “Why not?”

“I’m not training you to fight. Not until you turn eighteen. M...

“I can’t be responsible for you.” “You’re not!” “Exactly.”

“Look, you want self-defense, I can help. But you’re not marching into battle with me or anyone else. You’re too damn young.”

She raised her chin. “I’m going to change your mind.” “Doubt it.” Disappointment curdled her insides. She pushed it aside. No way was she giving up. ...

The light wasn’t a bulb, but a plastic two-liter pop bottle filled with water and a bit of bleach to keep algae from forming inside the bottle.

Bishop had sawed a small hole in the roof, stuck the bottle halfway in the hole, and sealed the exposed edges. Sunlight entered through the top of the bottle, refracted in the water, and brightened the entire room.

“I imagine the US will become like Romania in the nineties,” Gran said. “I remember the news stories. Thousands of homeless orphans roaming the streets, pickpocketing, selling themselves, begging—anything for their next meal. Their parents didn’t make it. Or they couldn’t feed their children and were forced to abandon some to save the others. The older ones got pushed out of the nest to fend for themselves. Those that survived banded together.”

“And run out of our own supplies in weeks instead of years. Or, we give food to our neighbors out of kindness, only we’ve revealed what we have. When our neighbors get desperate, they come and steal from us, or worse.”

Milo waved a hand in acknowledgement as he gazed up at Quinn with abject adoration. Everything she said, he believed. Everything she did, he wanted to do, too. Most teenagers would get frustrated with a constant tag-a-long, but not Quinn. She treated him with affection, like a beloved brother. In return, Milo had blossomed under her care and attention.

“I know what she wants. It’s written all over her face every time she looks at Liam.” “She wants to be like him.” “That girl wants to BE him. She wants to be a soldier, a warrior. She’s gonna ask him, if she hasn’t already.”

Saying we’re protecting them while keeping them from bettering the world? From finding their own way? It’s not helping them. We do it to make ourselves feel better. Not them.”

But a life worth living required risk. Otherwise, you were trapped inside a cage of your own making, like a dog too broken to notice that the crate door was wide open.

if you put in a good word for my granddaughter, I’d be much obliged.” “I can try. Liam is his own man.”

“Warn him, though. Once she starts, she doesn’t give up. She’s as stubborn as a mule.” Hannah gave a wry smile. “He’ll like that. Liam loves stubborn women.” Molly laughed. “Ha! I could tell that from a mile away without my glasses. He’s a bit set in his ways, isn’t he?” “His way usually ends up being the right way.” Molly pressed her lips together. “Mmm hmm.” “He knows his stuff.” “I bet.” Heat flushed Hannah’s throat. “He’s a good man. That’s all I’m saying.” Molly gave her a sly smirk. “I’m still married,” Hannah said. “So was I. Never stopped me from appreciating the opposite gender. It’s like admiring a work of art. And that Liam Coleman is a damn fine work of art.”

Lol like for real. Come on. Liam is more of a man than Noah could ever dream of being. At least Liam is actually protecting them and the others around them not just for his own selfish reasons.

“Things change, honey. People change. And often not for the better.” “I know.” “There are two kinds of people. Those who rise to the occasion when tough times come, and those who don’t. Sometimes, people don’t come out the other side stronger. They give in to their fear and weakness and become something else, something worse.”

Noah who’d become small and weak—and dangerous. What you failed to do defined you as much as what you did.

“You aren’t beholden to a person like that, honey.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. It’s not safe for you to leave here anymore.” “What do you mean?” “Winter Haven. It’s too dangerous to go traipsing back and forth all the time. The townspeople are ready to riot. They attacked several militiamen yesterday. Guys who were just trying to keep order. Did you know that?” “From my understanding, they instigated it.” He shot her a dark look. “Fall Creek is no longer safe. You need to stay here.” “It’s not safe here, either.”

Excuse you?! No sir. You stay in your bubble. They ain't mad at me.

“I mean it, Hannah. You and Milo are not to leave Winter Haven for any reason.”

All this time, she’d felt conflicted, torn between her friends on Tanglewood Drive and Winter Haven, where her son lived in the care of her husband. The decision had already been made. She couldn’t live i...

“I think I need to leave.” Noah froze. His back to her, one hand on the cabinet handle, the other planted on the countertop. His shoulders went rigid. “I need to leave,” she said, stronger now. “I’m leaving.”

Yes let him suffer in pieces.

Noah stood as still as stone. Everything about him went tight, shuttered. “Where are you planning to go?” She hesitated. “To our old house.” “You mean to Liam.” “I mean to my house. Liam is not the reason.” “Are you sure about that?” “This isn’t about him.” “Then what is it about?” She straightened her shoulders. “You. Us. Them.” She waved her good hand. “The militia ruling this town. What they’ve done. You allowing it to happen.”

“Safe isn’t everything. You can’t have it all. That’s not how life works! There’s no such thing as absolute safety. None. Anyone who promises you that is a snake oil salesman, or worse.”

“This is real,” she said. “Pain is a part of living. Loss is a part of living. Risk—tempered with intelligence and wisdom—is a part of living. I won’t numb myself or shut myself off from the world for the illusion of safety. I will not trade myself for a promise that’s not even real. I will not.”

“That’s B.S. and you know it. Those people are opportunistic leeches. Sociopaths preying on the less fortunate. They’ll smile to your face for as long as they can use you. Will any of them lay down their lives for you? For Milo?”

And won't.

“Liam will,” she said fiercely. “Bishop will. Molly and Quinn will. Those are the friends I choose. People of honor. People who take care of each other, not just when it benefits them, but when it costs them. Especially when it costs them.”

“Liam again,” Noah said in disgust. Frustration flared through her. He wasn’t even listening. He wasn’t getting it. “There are things worth more than safety, Noah. There are ideals worth dying for.”

“My beliefs are who I am,” Hannah said. “Nothing worth having in this life is ever easy—or free.”

“So, you’re willing to die just to be ‘free’ of the militia? The people who keep us fed, warm, and alive?” “The people who rob and slaughter innocents, you mean.”

“We’re all doing what we have to do. This is the world, now. This is the way it is. You just need to accept it.” “No,” Hannah said. “I won’t.”

He's absolutely disgusting.

Noah had known all along; that he’d chosen to be blind.

Something in her closed, a door in her heart slamming shut. If any part of her remained open to him—for old time’s sake, for Milo, for everything they’d been through—it was gone.

“Those people shouldn’t have fought back! They were warned! They should’ve just backed off! They’d still be alive. That was their choice!” “Do you hear yourself? You sound like every despot and mass murderer ever. You can’t justify this. There is no justification.”

She didn’t dignify it with a response. This conversation was pointless. She could see that now.

She’d tried to get Noah to see the truth, thinking he’d change, he’d act. That was her mistake. He did see it. He knew it and accepted it, even embraced it.

“If it’s between losing my son and losing my soul,” Noah said. “I choose my soul.”

If Ghost were here, he’d already be between them, a growling, snarling buffer. How she wished she’d brought him.

“I’m not leaving him. I’m taking him with me.”

“It’s not from you, Noah! You’re still his father. You’ll always be his father. But you’re not doing what’s best for him.”

Unless she took him at gunpoint, Noah wasn’t giving him up. She saw it in his determined, unwavering gaze. It was the one thing he would never bend on—never. If she brought violence into the equation, it would only traumatize Milo and help nothing. She had to wait. She had to be patient, even though it was the last thing in the world that she wanted.

“I’ve already packed a bag. It’s in the bedroom. I’d like to kiss Milo goodnight. I’ll take the snowmobile and bring it back to the checkpoint in the morning.” Noah blanched. An array of emotions crossed his face: anger, shock, and wounded pride. He saw how determined she was. It was finally sinking in—what this meant for them, for him.