Bound by Prophecy (Descendants Series) Read Online Free PDF

below.
    Her chest was heaving when she looked up at me again. I couldn’t say that I blamed her. She was eleven and half stories up, barely hanging on by less than sturdy decorative railings, and the man below us wanted to kill her. I wished I could say her name. Distract her. Something. But all I could do was offer my hand, tell her with my eyes it would be okay.
    She stared at my outstretched hand, completely immobilized with fear. Her knuckles were white, and no doubt her bloodless fingers would give in soon. Her eyes moved to meet mine, and I could see the reluctant reasoning she was doing in her stare.
    She would have to trust me.
    Below her, the man looked up. I didn’t move my gaze from Emily’s, only held my hand steady, willing her to take it.
    The man climbed onto the ledge outside our window and the old wrought iron creaked. A silent gasp registered on Emily’s face, but I couldn’t stop her from looking down.
    “ Emily .” My whisper was harsh, demanding, and fell upon deaf ears.
    The man reached for the balustrade above his head, and began to heft himself toward us.
    I repeated her name, this time above a whisper. I didn’t suppose it mattered now.
    Emily looked back to me, and it was as if all the emotion I’d expected from her through our entire ordeal, all of the natural responses I’d been denied, hit her in that one moment.
    “Take my hand,” I said levelly.
    She swallowed hard. Her eyes stayed on me as she concentrated on uncurling her fingers from the grip she had on the railing. The metal below creaked in a way it had not with our weight as the man progressed upward. I nodded as Emily forced one finger at a time free from their fossilized positions.
    When she finally reached a trembling hand for mine, my chest began to unknot. I almost had her. We would make it. All that was left was to get her within my grip, pull her to the roof, and…
    The creak of metal was different this time, somehow final. It cut through my thoughts just before it erupted into more: a metallic groan and crack, then clinks, then the heavy thud of weighted flesh slamming repeatedly against rail and block and…
    “No.” I tried to hold Emily’s gaze, tried to force her to stay with me instead of looking down, to reach those few extra inches and take my hand. But she didn’t.
    It was poor timing to say the least. A sickening, wet thwump was followed by only the echo of clanging metal as the piece that gave landed beside the broken body on the alley floor, and then bounced a few times before settling to its own death.
    “Emily,” I repeated, surprised that my tone so resembled begging, “please.”
    She was panting now, a kind of noiseless, heaving panic taken over when she looked back to me. But that didn’t scare me as much as the tears.
    “Take my hand,” I said. “Take my hand and it will all be okay.”
    Her face twisted in disbelief, horror. How could it ever be okay?
    “You’ll be safe. Just take my hand and you will be safe.”
    Don’t think about the bloody bits of man below you. Don’t think about it. Take my hand.
    She reached for me again, and I wondered if my sway had finally worked, if I’d finally gotten through to her. Her palm was slick with sweat, but I’d have to do with the grip I had. There was no way I could trust my other shoulder, my recently broken shoulder, to pull her up.
    We stared at each other for a long moment while she convinced herself to let go with her other hand.
    “I’ve got you, Emily.” I nodded. “Let go, use your feet against the building and grab hold of my arm.”
    Her eyes closed in one long blink, and when she opened them, the rest of her weight pulled against our connected hands. Her other palm smacked against my forearm and clung an instant before her right sneaker slipped from its brace on the bricks. As she dangled there, the terror in her expression was suddenly gone, and determination took its place.
    She found her footing again, gritted her teeth, and