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JETHRO TRAVELED AS fast as he could to the Warehouse District. He had to dismiss his Guards and free the prisoners. He didn’t want any other Guard implicated in what he was about to do. There were a few who’d probably join him but he couldn’t take the chance that they might warn the authorities, not with weapons on the way.
Thankfully, Indy had been using his mom’s carriage to run errands. Getting there on foot would’ve been possible but in his condition, it would’ve taken awhile. His head spun from all the alcohol he’d drank as he hopped out of the carriage, stumbling a few paces before catching his balance. The sound of fighting spilled from the doors and he raced inside.
He’d left twenty of his Guards to watch over the prisoners and they were fighting a group of...everything. There were Producers, Guards and House Servants. He skidded to a halt. And a Tracker. A Guard rushed toward him and without thinking his arm flew out punching the Guard in the face and knocking him down. He charged forward to help one of his Guards who was being attacked by a Producer and three House Servants. It was the same Producer he’d captured with Trinity.
He jumped on the Producer’s back, wrapping his arm around the male’s neck. The Producer flung his arms, smacking Jethro upside the head. His ears rang from the blow, but he tightened his grip, squeezing the Producer’s throat. Another moment or two and the male would be down. The giant’s arms flailed and then he fell. Jethro rolled to the side and staggered to his feet. He swung at one of the House Servants but the damn thing was fast and he was still groggy from drink. The Servant slashed him across his chest, ripping his shirt. A thin trickle of blood formed on his skin. Somehow, he knew the Servant was coming at him again even though he was staring at his chest. He reached out and captured the Servant around the neck. He stared into the Servant’s eyes as the male struggled in his grasp. He needed to let go soon or the Servant would die, but he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t smart. This creature had attacked him. It’d do it again and even if it didn’t, he really, really wanted to kill it. He could tear out its throat. There would be blood - a lot of blood. His stomach rumbled. He was hungry. He dropped his hand, stumbling backward. The Servant crumpled to the ground, coughing. Where had that thought come from? He didn’t eat House Servants. He spun around and came face to face with Jackson.
“Jethro.” The Guard’s eyes were resigned.
“Let my Guards go,” he said. Jackson was mostly healed, but he could still smell the faint scent of torn flesh.
“I can’t do that.”
His Guards were losing. They were outnumbered and quite frankly out manned. The Producers and House Servants along with the Guards made a formidable army. The Producers were strong and solid, progressing in a line while the House Servants were fast using the Producers as living shields. “Take me captive but separate me from the others. I need to speak with you.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s not a trick.” He dropped to his knees and stuck his hands in front of him. “Stand down. That’s an order!”
Jackson grabbed Jethro’s arms, yanking them behind his back. “I have your master. Stop fighting now or he dies along with all of you.”
The sounds of battle slowly ceased as one-by-one Jethro’s Guards surrendered.
“Lock them up.” Jackson jerked Jethro to his feet. “I need to question this one.” He shoved Jethro outside and away from the building. “What do you want to tell me?”
“Promise me you’ll be fair with my Guards. They’re good Guards. They only did as I commanded.”
“Don’t worry about your Guards. Hugh understands their situation and is always fair.”
He snorted. He doubted Hugh would be fair with him, but he was still going to help. He had to. “They’re releasing the weapons.”
Jackson’s face paled. “When?”
“They’ll have the troops ready to send into the forest in a couple of days. You need to warn Hu...the others.”
“Where are the weapons now?”
“I don’t know. I guess at the Council Building. They’d deliver them there from storage and then count and sign them out to each troop.”
“Some of the troops and all the weapons are at the Council Building, right now?” Jackson’s tone was slow and deliberate.
“Yeah, why?”
“Hugh and the others may already be there.”
“You brought the war to the city? You’re not here to free Hugh’s soldiers?” He couldn’t help it. He was impressed. It was what his instincts screamed for him to do in every battle. Take the offensive not the defensive.
“Yeah. This is it. Today, the war will end one way or another.”
“Where’s Kim?” His throat was dry.
“Safe in the forest.”
He shouldn’t ask. He had no right to ask, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Who else is with Hugh?”
“Trinity.” Jackson looked at him with pity.
He jerked free from Jackson’s grasp. “I have to stop her.”
Jackson tackled him. He tossed the Guard off his back and headed for the carriage. Jackson hit him again, grabbing his legs and knocking them out from under him.
“Let me go.” He pushed at the Guard, but Jackson clung to him. “I don’t want to hurt you again.” He tried to pry Jackson’s hands from around his legs.
“I don’t trust you.” Jackson punched him upside the head.
The words hurt worse than the punch. “Too bad. You’re going to have to.”
His fist connected with Jackson’s chin and the Guard’s grip loosened enough for him to scramble to his feet. Another Guard slammed into him, knocking him back to the ground. He punched the Guard and was just getting to his feet when another Guard tackled him. He hit the dirt face first. He roared as he tried to rise. They couldn’t stop him, not now. He had to save her, but two more Guards landed on him, holding him down. He bucked and fought but he couldn’t get leverage while sprawled in the dirt.
“Lock him up.” Jackson stood over him, panting.
“No. Please. I can help.” He was strong. He could save her.
Jackson studied him a moment and then shook his head. “I can’t trust you.”
He lurched forward, making the Guards struggle. “Don’t do this. I can help.”
“Take him away and lock him with the others.”
The Guards dragged him toward the building, but he managed to get a hold of Jackson’s pant leg. “Please. Take my carriage. Save her.”
“Have someone look at his wounds,” said Jackson as they drug him away.