Lance reminded himself that he was alive. He was breathing. He could make it out of this. The cold of the cell dug deeper into his bones, burrowing like ice picks. He shivered violently, and his teeth chattered. The cell closed in on him more with every passing minute, and the darkness was disorienting. The floor beneath him swayed, and every direction melded with each other.

His attempts to speak to the beast were met with silence, so he whispered aloud to it.

It made no sound, no movement within his stomach, but Lance felt deep down that it could hear him. That it was listening. That was all he needed. It didn’t matter if the beast was just a part of him. He would take anything at this point, anything that would listen to him. Anything to feel less alone.

Lance sucked the frosty air down his throat and into his lungs. There has to be a way out. There’s always a way out, right?

Sleep hung over him like a knife, but as it weighed down on him more and more, terror banged on the walls of his chest. If he fell asleep in this cold, he wasn’t so sure he would wake up. For a split second, he closed his eyes, regardless of the consequences. He just wanted out—out of this cell.

But as he drifted, he gasped and opened his eyes. His heart hammered. No, he thought. Not like this.

Lance stood and bumbled around the cell. He felt along the walls, guiding himself. Keep moving. That was the goal now. Keep moving.

He didn’t stop, and as the cold followed him in the darkness like a silent predator, he spoke to the beast again. Not a whisper this time. “If you can hear me, if there is any possible way you can help me, please do it.” The plea bounced off the walls, and doubt crept in that the beast could even hear him at all.

Lance’s hand grazed something on the wall. He stopped moving and felt again, then again.

A crack was in the wall.

Not a small one, either. A profound crack in one of the stone bricks. Lance ran his hand over it again, and a spark of hope flickered in his freezing chest.

Lance drew a deep, steadying breath, and he clawed at the stone. His nails dug deep. Pain seared through his fingers, but he kept going. He banged on the stone, reached his leg up high enough to kick it, then clawed at it more.

It went on for minutes, maybe hours. Time faded, and eventually, a warm trickle of blood ran down his hand, then his arm, dripping from his elbow onto the floor. He embraced the warmth it brought him, faint as it was, then swore as it fell cold within seconds.

Tears welled in his eyes the longer the brick didn’t budge. He seethed at the pain in his fingertips. He shook his head and pulled one last time.

A crack echoed in the room.

At first, Lance smiled. He pulled even harder. More cracking.

Then an excruciating pain swept through his fingers.

His nails… The cracking came from his nails.

He pulled anyway. If this was the last time he could do it, he would make it count. He braced his leg against the wall and pulled with all his weight. The louder the pain screamed, the harder he pulled. A yell escaped his mouth, reverberating in the desolate room.

Finally, a loud snap echoed through the room, and Lance lost his grip on the stone. He stumbled and fell onto his back. Something clattered next to him, and he allowed the tears to come as he felt along his fingers. He found the pads that had been hidden underneath his now-missing fingernails and swallowed the urge to vomit.

Lance cursed in the darkness as if doing so would help.

He reached over to grab the nails that had landed beside him. But his fingers grazed painfully against something harder and colder than his nails.

He picked it up and rolled it in his hand. Sharp, like a fragment—a cold fragment of stone.

Lance ran to the wall and felt along the brick. An indentation marked the wall, where a small shard of stone had chipped off.

Lance allowed the tears to come.

He had hope.

He had a chance.

* * *

Sick satisfaction swept through Derek as he fired into Caleb’s legs, a burst of rounds in each one, just as he’d planned. Amethyst blood spurted from the wounds.

Caleb fell to his knees, groaning in pain. Eric and Kaela leapt from their hiding spot. They fired their pistols as they closed in, Caleb’s body flinching with every bullet.

Just as Caleb stood, Eric and Kaela leapt for him, plunging their blades into his neck. Time froze for an instant, then Caleb fell to his hands and knees. His veins flashed, and just as he had the chief, he swatted Eric and Kaela away with inhuman strength. They flew back, sliding across the asphalt. Derek fired again, this time at the blades, a desperate attempt to guide them deeper through his neck. Then he fired at his head. Surely, if enough bullets filled Caleb’s head, it would come off.

“Get his head off!” Eric yelled to whoever would listen.

The chief hadn’t returned from inside the bar, but Rachel dashed from the broken window. She sprinted at Caleb with a shout, her veins glowing. Derek’s breath caught in his throat. She had to make it.

Caleb noticed Rachel sprinting at him and clawed at the daggers in his throat. Just as Rachel came within arm’s reach, he ripped one from his neck and plunged it into Rachel’s shoulder. He steered her with the blade and threw her against the armored vehicle.

Caleb ripped the second dagger out and rubbed his bleeding neck. He smiled down at Rachel as he raised the blade to finish her off.

Derek shot it out of his hand.

Caleb swore and cradled his now-bleeding fingers. He shook his head, and his veins glowed brighter than ever. He laughed and scratched his nails deep into his arms, bright-purple blood leaking from the wounds.

The blood moved, traveling down his fingers then winding down to the ground. It didn’t drip like blood should but… moved.

Derek could only watch, paralyzed, as the blood formed into thin ropes at the tips of Caleb’s fingers, glowing and humming.

Caleb smiled up at Derek and lashed his arm out. The whips stretched and sliced through the brick of the building. Derek threw himself back, narrowly dodging the strings of blood. Heat grazed his face as they barely missed him. He lay breathless as a chunk of the rooftop crumbled and clattered to the sidewalk below.

An engine roared to life, and Derek was back on his feet, pointing his rifle.

Caleb was driving away, the car swerving back and forth.

Derek shot at the tires, the bullets striking and sparking on the street. He was going too fast, driving too recklessly. Derek gritted his teeth and sprayed bullets at the car, wishing, hoping that somehow, at least one of them would reach their mark. He shot until no bullets were left in the magazine.

The vehicle left his sight, and the sound of the screeching tires faded. Derek dropped to his knees. So close—he’d been so close to avenging Rob. He threw the gun to the ground. “Dammit!” He punched the ground then punched it again. He panted, his heart thumping in his chest. Tears welled in his eyes, but he forced them back. Rob’s face flashed in his vision. “I’m sorry…”

Voices echoed from the street. Eric muttered something to Kaela. Rotoya groaned and asked Rachel if she was okay, stepping out from the bar. Her voice was distorted, as if her tongue was made of lead.

Derek sat there for a long minute, watching the empty streets as he collected himself and steadied his breathing. He climbed down the stairwell, preparing himself for a tongue lashing when the dark glare in Eric’s eyes pointed at him.

“I told you not to take the shot,” Eric said, not raising his voice. He didn’t need to. His eyes did the yelling for him. “You’d better have a good reason for not listening to me.”

Derek scoffed. “Did you not see what we just did?”

“I did more than just see it,” Eric spat. He groaned and put a hand to his chest where Caleb had hit him. Kaela did the same. A twinge of guilt shot through Derek.

“We almost had him.”

“No, we pissed him off. If he wasn’t already on guard, he certainly is now. He’ll be tougher next time.”

“We’ll deal with it.”

Eric narrowed his eyes. “If he hurts Lance because of what we just did, I will personally make sure it reflects on you.”

“Can we argue later?” Kaela asked with a grunt. She gently massaged her chest and coughed as if to test the pain. Her hand moved to her rib, and she hissed as she pressed into it. She swore.

The chief fiddled with her jaw. “Thr-o-ken,” she said. “Gib it a min-ute.”

“Suck it up,” Derek spat. Just looking at her sent floods of hatred into him. Once this was over, he would kill her the same way she’d killed Rob—trapped under his boot, taking bullet after bullet until she finally went still. He kept his face neutral, but the frenzy settling in his chest burned his heart.

Concern painted Rachel’s face. The chief stood, the nanobots flashing. By the time they all returned to the cellar, her jaw had healed, though she still rubbed at it as if it was sore.

“So, Lance got caught,” the chief said, speaking to George. Guilt etched across his face.

“We’re getting him back,” Eric said. Not a suggestion or an order but a simple statement of fact.

Derek wished he could share that confidence.

Eric looked at Rotoya. “Can you control these soldiers?”

Rotoya surveyed the unconscious bodies, tied up and leaned against the wine barrels, then nodded. “Like I said, I can only control my own officers, but yeah, I should be able to… I think.”

“How are you going to do that?” George asked.

Rotoya scanned her officers. “According to Caleb, Malcolm said the drug has something to do with connection. My officers have always been close to me, so my connection with them is stronger than Caleb’s. Caleb took my officers from me when my heart stopped. The way I see it… if their hearts stop”—she gestured to her officers—“I may be able to get them back on my side. If not… we’re screwed.” She crossed her arms. “And I just let several of my own officers die.”

A moment passed, then another.

Derek crossed his arms. “Try not to stab us in the back.”

Rotoya shifted her weight. “Maybe you forgot, but it’s in my best interests to kill Caleb too.”

“And then what? You’re going to shoot us next?”

“Watch it,” Rachel said, her hand hovering over her pistol. Her shoulder had already healed.

Rotoya held her hand out, and Rachel relaxed. “Hate me all you want, but I want to stop Caleb as much as you do, so until that happens, we need to work together.”

“Whatever,” Derek muttered, leaning against the wall next to the armory door. If any of her officers made a move, he would grab a gun from inside and finish them off.

Rotoya stole a deep breath then looked at Eric. Her voice croaked as she said, “Do it.”

Eric nodded and slipped his blade from his cane. Without any hesitation, he shoved the dagger into the chest of the closest officer. Rotoya shut her eyes and looked away. Rachel put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Derek scowled.

When he was done, Rotoya let out a pained breath, and for a moment, she stared at the dead body of her officer. She took a step closer and kneeled next to him then placed her hand on his body and shut her eyes.

After several moments passed, Rotoya shook her head. “I don’t think I can… Wait.”

Rotoya opened her eyes, glowing bright and purple.

Derek rested his hand on the knob of the armory door. Kaela put a hand on his arm, shaking her head. He settled down, letting the knob go.

The officer’s veins glowed a chilling purple. The wounds in his chest glowed the brightest, closing rapidly. When the wound closed, a long silence spread through the room.

Rotoya furrowed her brows and balled her fists.

Suddenly, the officer gasped for air.

Rotoya let out a long sigh. “Thank God.”

Derek wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but the officer roused and stood as simply as if he’d been given a light kick to the ribs. His wound was gone.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Rotoya straightened her posture. “Raise your arms.”

The officer did so without question.

“Now lower them.”

Again, he did so without question.

George’s jaw dropped. “Incredible.”

Rotoya gulped then nodded at Eric. One by one, Eric shoved his blade into the chests of the officers, and one by one, Rotoya commanded them back to life. They all gasped for air and rose like zombies from the dead.

Derek expected Rotoya to look proud or accomplished. Instead, her face was ridden with guilt. “Well, shit, would you look at that. I did it.” She crossed her arms. “You all know what this means, don’t you?” Some of the guilt scrubbed away, replaced with a wicked smile. “When we attack Landreau Corp, any of my officers we kill… I can bring to my side.”

“In other words,” Kaela said, a smirk on her face, “the more you kill, the bigger your army grows.”

“Wouldn’t call it an army, but yeah, effectively.” Rotoya regarded her officers, guilt once again shadowing her face. “And I have no doubts Caleb will send my officers after me now that he knows I’m on your side. The man’s pride has always been a weakness.”

“Likes the sound of his own voice too,” Eric said.

“Reminds me a little of someone I know,” Kaela said with a sly grin.

Rotoya shifted her weight, blinking rapidly.

Derek raised an eyebrow. Is she nervous?

“Are you all ready to bring down Caleb Landreau once and for all?” Rotoya asked.

Her officers nodded in unison.

She straightened her shoulders. “Grab the guns from the armory and let’s go.”

“What do we do with them?” Derek asked, gesturing toward the remaining soldiers, unconscious and tied up against the barrels. “I don’t want them waking up under my bar.”

“Already handled,” Rotoya said. Her veins flashed, and once her officers armed themselves, they hoisted the soldiers’ bodies up and carried them out. “We’ll lay them all in an alley. By the time they wake up, it’ll be too late.”

Derek didn’t respond. He took a long deep breath and walked out with them. Whether they were going to their deaths or their victory didn’t matter. Caleb was going to die by the end of tonight, one way or another.

Walking at his side, Kaela leaned in close to whisper, “Are you okay?”

Derek stopped glaring at the back of Rotoya’s head and turned to Kaela. Worry swam in her eyes. “No… I’m sorry I jumped the gun.”

“I get it,” Kaela said. “I’ve been there. But we’re close to finishing this, okay? You need to focus.”

Derek nodded.

“We’ll get your revenge after this.”

Rotoya loosed a steadying breath ahead of him then leaned over to Eric and muttered, “I can say it now, but I genuinely had my doubts that this would even work.”

* * *

Eric’s heart raced faster the closer they drove to Landreau Corp. The armored vehicle they’d hidden in the alley was carrying them to the fight of their lives. Eric smiled in anticipation.

The smile lasted until Lance crossed his mind for the third time since they started the drive. If they’d hurt him in the slightest, the things he would do…

But a spark of hope flickered inside him. Caleb had said nothing about killing Lance. He knew Lance was infected with the nanobots now, which had to make him somewhat useful. That was the bit of hope Eric cradled as they rode through the empty streets. They wouldn’t be empty much longer, he hoped.

Of all the insane plans Eric had come up with and been involved in, this was certainly the craziest. But once they killed Caleb, once his head rolled across those nice company carpets, it would be over. The city of Arachna could go back to normal. Hopefully Agni as well.

Eric swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Never had his nerves attacked him so, not since the night Carrie gave birth. He wondered what she would think about all this. Would she consider him a good father? He wasn’t—but he would be better. He would rescue Lance, take down Caleb, and be the father Lance deserved.

“Almost there,” Rotoya said.

The vehicle stopped, and Eric stepped out. Derek and Kaela followed.

Rotoya smiled as another armored vehicle drove from around a corner and pulled up beside her. “You’d better hurry and do what you need to do.” She tapped her wrist. “Tick tock.”

Eric slinked into the shadows of the alley, Derek and Kaela behind him. His legs were heavy as he wound through the shadows, one leg still aching from his injury. The hum of the armored vehicle faded the farther they traveled.

They padded down the next four blocks in utter silence. As much as Caleb deserved it, killing him wasn’t a priority until Lance was safe.

They stopped once they reached the end of the final alley. Landreau Corp stood grand and tall in front of them—a tower of sheer greed, full of men and women that would kill them in a heartbeat.

“Looks like there are more guards at the back entrance than last time,” Derek said. “George said there were only two. I’m counting four.”

They turned toward him, but he wasn’t there. Then they looked up.

Derek was hanging from the stairwell. He continued, “I don’t see any other extra security besides that.” He dropped down and landed with a quiet grace. “Not too surprising. After all, he invited us here.”

“The real security will be inside,” Eric said.

“Still, we need to be careful.”

Rotoya’s vehicles revved in the distance. The three of them shared a knowing smile, and seconds later, tires screeched.

The soldiers out front yelled and pointed their guns.

The soldiers fired a hail of bullets then dove out of the way just in time as the two armored vehicles sped past and crashed into the entrance of the building. A thunderous boom shook the night, and Eric covered his ears. The entrance collapsed, glass shattered, and the soldiers not quick enough to dive out of the way were laid out on the ground. Still.

The soldiers that had dived out of the way clambered to their feet and took aim. Rotoya’s officers were too fast, leaning out the windows and shooting the soldiers dead.

The guards in the parking lot sprinted inside Landreau Corp.

“That’s one hell of a distraction,” Eric said. “Let’s go.”

Gunshots rattled their ears as they sprinted across the street and through the parking lot.

Eric paused at the back door, his hand resting on the handle. “We ready?”

Kaela and Derek nodded, and they dashed inside. The moment they rushed in, two guards took cover in the hall, shooting at the two vehicles crashed halfway into the building.

The vehicle doors were open, and the officers, Rachel, and Rotoya all opened fire from their makeshift cover.

Eric and Kaela made short work of the two guards hiding in the hall.

“Which way?” Derek asked, standing by the door to the stairwell. His voice was nearly drowned out by the gunshots booming through the hall.

“You and Kaela go upstairs. I’ll head downstairs. If you find Lance, bring him back here. If he’s injured, take him out the back entrance and protect him.”

Kaela snorted. “He’s got the nanobots in him. I doubt he’ll be the one that needs the protecting.”

Derek huffed a laugh in agreement, and they parted ways.

Eric flew down the stairs, encountering two guards along the way. The first one only took a kick to the stomach to fall back and snap his neck on the stairs. The second’s head and body fell separately with one swipe of Eric’s blade.

The farther Eric descended the stairs, the more his mind shouted for one thing.

Lance!

* * *

Lance held onto the fragment of stone harder than he should have. Blood leaked from his hands, but he couldn’t let go, as if it would fall into the darkness and never return should he drop it. In the bitter silence, the sound of blood rushing to his ears reminded him that he was alive. The air reeked of mold and copper. His head spun.

Footsteps resonated from the other side of the door, lightly tapping against the stone. A surge of adrenaline shocked Lance’s heart, and he fumbled with the piece of stone in his hands, readying himself. His fingers shook with the cold clamping down on them.

The footsteps reached the door, and the lock clicked. Lance crouched, preparing to spring. But the door didn’t open. Toward the bottom of the door, a small window slid open. Lance leapt.

Two hands tossed a tray of bread down onto the dark floor. Just as the hands retracted from the window, Lance caught one and stabbed the stone piece into its palm.

The officer screamed and reached his other hand into the cell to pull it out of Lance’s grip. He stabbed twice more into the man’s hand and arm, and when the other hand grabbed at Lance, he deflected it. Lance braced his legs and pulled, dragging the soldier farther into the cell and smashing his head into the door. The soldier grunted, and before he could pull back, Lance reached out and blindly grabbed at him until the cold grip of a pistol grazed his sore fingers.

The soldier’s helmet clattered to the floor, and teeth bore down on Lance’s arm. Lance screamed in pain as teeth punctured his skin. He pulled the firearm out of its holster and ripped his arm from the soldier’s toothy grip.

Lance kept his hold on the soldier’s arm as he aimed.

“No!” the guard shouted, but Lance fired.

He fired and fired until the gun clicked. His ears rang. He tossed the pistol aside and reached through the slot again, grabbing the keys at the guard’s waist.

Lance sat still, holding the keys to his chest, the smallest bit of light entering the room. Even as dim as it was, Lance’s eyes stung at the sudden brightness. He blinked it away and reached out of the slot once more, keys in hand. He cursed as he fumbled with them. He contorted his arm, his joints popping as he found the lock and inserted one of the keys.

His shoulder aching against the cold stone, he twisted.

The door clicked, a brassy click that echoed through the cell. Lance’s heart swelled as he pushed the door open. He fell out into the dim hallway, right next to the soldier’s body. Purple blood splashed on his arms and face, but he didn’t care. He was free.

He stood, leaning against the wall, his eyes stinging at the dim orange lights hanging above him. Blood leaked from the deep bite marks embedded in his arm. He grabbed the empty gun and drunkenly stepped down the hall. He shouldn’t have shot the gun that many times; he’d gotten carried away. Regardless, a metal object was a metal object, and it would do fine to smash through helmets.

When Lance reached the end of the hall, two guards rushed down the stairs. Likely the same two that had guarded his first cell. He was too drained to take on two at once, so he slid into a small patch of darkness and let them run past. They noticed the body and rushed to it, examining his injuries and looking inside the cell. Seconds later, they ran back down the hall and disappeared up the stairs.

Lance’s head was pounding, but he carried on. He ascended one set of stairs then another until the dark stone turned to concrete. Tears welled in his eyes the closer he got to familiar ground.

He stopped when the stairway door flew open. He looked, but whoever ran through had already dashed down the cell-lined hall where he and George had been kept. Maybe it was Caleb. Or another guard. Either way, Lance didn’t want to find out.

Hiding in the darkness, he scurried down the narrow hallway and crept into the stairway, rushing up the set of stairs to the lobby. His weakness began to dwindle slightly, enough to let him walk with more speed. The beast was still quiet.

How long had he been in that cell?

Lance passed the bodies of the two guards that had just run past him. Before he could even consider what had happened, he stopped and listened to the rumbling above him. Gunfire?

“What in the…” Lance shook off his confusion. He had no time to waste. He continued his ascent.

Something stirred inside him. His hopes rose, and when a small, weak whine whimpered from within him, he sighed in relief.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Lance whispered, “but I am so glad to have you back.”

The beast didn’t purr, but he could feel it, worn out and tired. It wasn’t ready to fight.

It curled up in Lance’s stomach and slumbered. It would need as much rest as it could fit in before Lance would ultimately have to fight.

He reached the hall on the main floor, and the ringing in his ears worsened as gunshots and shouts bellowed from the lobby. Two more bodies were sprawled across the floor.

What the hell is happening up here?

Lance turned to dash out the back entrance, but something shifted inside him. The beast growled, already sounding stronger than moments before.

Lance hesitated. “Are you sure? You’re still weak.”

The beast purred in response, and Lance’s veins glowed. He knew the next question the beast was about to ask, but Lance stopped it before it had the chance.

“I’m not giving you any more room than you have.” He sighed. “Selfish.”

It growled again, but Lance ignored it and turned around, his and the beast’s curiosity taking hold. He reached the end of the hall and peeked around the corner. Two armored vehicles protruded in through the entrance, and two groups of black-clad soldiers were firing at each other.

Lance’s jaw fell as Rotoya fired from behind the open door of a vehicle, spraying bullets at the opposing side.

The beast chirped curiously, and Lance just shook his head. “I don’t know either, but…” A laugh played at his lips as a sudden rush traveled along his body, as if adrenaline was replacing his blood. He looked down at his veins, flashing purple for a second before returning to normal. “Damn, it is pretty cool.” He clenched his fist. “Fine… maybe just a bit more room.”

* * *

Eric reached the bottom of the stairwell. He swung the door open and entered a small concrete hallway. Metal doors lined the hall. Eric ignored the biting cold and glanced into each of them.

Empty.

Every single one of them was empty.

Surely these were the cells George had mentioned. Eric whirled and dashed back down the hallway, rounding the corner to his right. Another hallway faced him, dark and narrow; this one wasn’t lined with any cells. Eric traveled down the hall and took another right then walked down a set of stairs. He shivered as an even colder air weighed down upon him. Much colder than it should have been. By the time he reached the end of the stairs, his breath formed clouds of smoke in front of him.

He hurried forward, deeper into the hallway. Concrete turned to dark stone bricks, and with them came an even harsher cold. The colder the air became, the hotter Eric’s rage grew. Are they keeping Lance here? Dim orange lights hung on the wall, barely bright enough to guide his way.

That ghastly honeyed smell tainted Eric’s nose, and he gripped his cane tighter. “Please tell me you’re okay, Lance.”

Eric descended another set of stairs, where the body of an officer down the hall lay next to a cell door, barely ajar.

He’s free, Eric thought. His heart rose, but questions swirled around in his head. Is he even still in the building, or is he running for the bar?

Surely he would’ve heard the gunfire or the car crashing into the building.

Eric shook those thoughts from his head. Lance was free, and he had to find him before Caleb did.

Eric sprinted back to the stairwell. The thought of Lance being killed by Caleb made his blood run cold. His legs pounded against the ground. He forgot about being quiet—forgot about the nagging pain in his ankle. Anyone who bothered to get in his way would find themselves without a head.

* * *

Derek raced up the stairwell, Kaela at his side. Soldiers that met them died within seconds. A stray bullet had scraped Derek’s arm, and Kaela had nearly taken one to the chest, but they didn’t stop. They each had a pistol, stolen from the first two guards that’d had the displeasure of running into them.

The building had so many floors that they couldn’t afford to give the rooms more than a passing glance. Soldiers waited in some, and they got bullets in their heads before they could fire first. Derek and Kaela had traveled up countless floors, and they slowed their pace, out of breath and exhausted. If not for Rotoya’s distraction, they’d have been overwhelmed minutes ago.

“You don’t think…” Kaela said between light pants. She cursed and muttered, “I hate stairs.” Then she continued her original thought. “You don’t think Caleb has Lance with him, do you? And that he’s being guarded by, like, a ton of men?”

Derek regained control of his breathing, but he couldn’t fight and climb stairs for much longer. “I don’t know. But we knew this was a trap before we went in, so it would be no surprise if he did.”

Kaela rolled her eyes, not at him, but at the soldier standing at the top of the current flight of stairs they were climbing. He made no effort to reach for his sidearm—just stood there as if frozen in time.

“Look, buddy, I’m sick of getting that nasty purple blood all over my clothes. Let’s just go our separate ways, huh?” Kaela offered. Her voice held a twinge of sarcasm, and her hand casually rested on her hip. Her gun and knife were held at the ready.

The soldier remained frozen. Silently, he watched them. Then, as if time resumed at his spot on the stairs, he kicked off the railing and into the air. Kaela and Derek aimed their guns, but a sweeping kick sent both weapons clattering to the floor.

The soldier looked at them again, assessing them through that dark visor. His gait was casual. He had all the time in the world.

A distraction, Derek thought. And if he was trying to stall them, then Lance had to be close. Derek snarled and lunged. The soldier sidestepped and swept Derek’s feet from under him.

Derek landed hard on his back, the air leaving him. Kaela swiped her knife at the soldier, but he sent a punch to her face, and blood spilled from her nose. He ripped the knife from her grip and kicked her into the wall.

Derek returned to his feet, winded, and jumped onto the soldier’s back.

The soldier grunted and threw himself backward, slamming Derek into the wall.

Derek’s back made a crackling sound, and he fell flat. The soldier raised Kaela’s knife, but Derek craned his neck as the blade plunged into the ground, slicing his ear.

Derek swore and sent a blind kick to the soldier’s groin. The soldier stumbled back but recovered quickly.

Kaela joined Derek’s side, wiping the blood from her nose and helping him to his feet. Derek put a hand to the cut in his ear.

The soldier lunged, and Derek dodged and kicked him into the wall. He hit the handrail with a grunt. Another kick, and the soldier’s visor cracked. The soldier recovered and lunged again, but Derek dodged. The soldier was getting sloppy.

Derek punched his helmet, and the impact sent the soldier to the floor, the visor cracking even more. His knuckles bled and stung, and he hissed as pieces of the fiberglass splintered in his skin. The soldier made to stand, but Derek kicked him back down.

“Go on ahead,” Derek said to Kaela, hissing at his bleeding knuckles. “This may take a while.”

Kaela hesitated then grabbed her knife and gun from the floor and disappeared up the stairs.

Derek stretched his bleeding hand and readied for another attack.

The soldier leapt and wrapped his legs around Derek’s neck. They spun, and Derek was thrown to the floor. He rolled with the landing, but the soldier threw a kick to his stomach, sending him into the wall and knocking the air out of him. Nausea ripped at his stomach.

The soldier kept his distance, allowing Derek the time to stand.

They stared each other down, Derek panting while the soldier calmly paced. His eyes were visible through the broken visor, glowing bright and purple.

The soldier charged once more, and Derek stood his ground. They collided, and Derek nearly lost his footing. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the soldier by the helmet and sidestepped, slamming his head into the railing. The visor shattered, and the soldier yelled. His voice was clear.

Almost familiar.

The soldier ripped his helmet off, small shards of fiberglass stuck in his face. His veins glowed a bright purple.

Derek raised his fist to throw a punch, but he stopped, his legs turning to jelly. The soldier clawed at his face, removing most of the shards, violet blood spilling all over the floor.

Derek choked as he tried to speak.

“Rob?”