man.”
A single gunshot explodes without warning, ripping open a hole in Anderson’s throat. He grabs at his neck and falls, with a choked cry, on one knee, looking around for his assailant.
Nazeera.
She materializes in front of him just in time to jump up, into the sky. The supreme soldiers start shooting upward, releasing round after round with impunity, and though I’m terrified for Nazeera, I realize she took that risk for me. For James.
We’ll do our best, she’d said. I didn’t realize her best included risking her life for that kid. For me. God, I fucking love her.
I go invisible.
Anderson is struggling to stanch the flow of blood at his throat while keeping his grip on James, who appears to be unconscious.
Two guards remain at his side.
I fire two shots.
They both go down, crying out and clutching limbs, and Anderson nearly roars. He starts clawing at the air in front of him, then fumbles for his gun with one red hand, blood still seeping from his lips. I take that opportunity to punch him in the face.
He rears back, more surprised than injured, but Brendan moves in quickly, clapping his hands together to create a twisting, crackling bolt of electricity he wraps around Anderson’s legs, temporarily paralyzing him.
Anderson drops James.
I catch him before he hits the floor, and bolt toward Lily, who’s waiting just outside of Nouria’s ring of light. I unload his unconscious body into her arms and Brendan builds an electric shield around their bodies. A beat later, they’re gone.
Relief floods through me.
Too quickly. It unsteadies me. My invisibility falters for less than a second, and in less than a second I’m attacked from behind.
I hit the ground, hard, air leaving my lungs. I struggle to flip over, to stand up, but a supreme soldier is already pointing a rifle at my face. He shoots.
Castle comes out of nowhere, knocking the soldier off his feet, stopping the bullets with a single gesture. He redirects the ammunition meant for my body, and I don’t even realize what’s happened until I see the dude drop to his knees. He’s a human sieve, bleeding out the last of his life right in front of me, and it all feels suddenly surreal.
I drag myself up, my head pounding in my throat. Castle is already moving, ripping a tree from its roots as he goes. Stephan is using his superstrength to pummel as many soldiers as he can, but they won’t stop shooting, and he’s moving slowly, blood staining nearly every inch of his clothing. I watch him sway. I run toward him, try to shout a warning, but my voice gets lost in the din, and my legs won’t move fast enough. Another soldier charges at him, unloading rounds, and this time, I scream.
Haider comes running.
He dives in front of his friend with a cry, knocking Stephan to the ground, protecting his body with his own, throwing something into the air as he goes.
It explodes.
I’m thrown backward, my skull ringing. I lift my head, delirious, and spot Nazeera and Warner, each locked in hand-to-hand combat. I hear a bloodcurdling scream and force myself up, toward the sound.
It’s Sam.
Nouria beats me to her, falling to her knees to lift her wife’s body off the ground. She wraps blinding bands of light around the two of them, the protective spirals so bright they’re excruciating to look at. A nearby soldier throws his arm over his eyes as he shoots, crying out and holding steady even as the force of Nouria’s light begins to melt the flesh off his hands.
I put a bullet through his teeth.
Five more guards appear out of nowhere, coming at me from all sides, and for half a second I can’t help but be surprised. Castle said there were only twelve bodies, two of which belonged to Anderson and James, and I thought we’d taken out at least several of the others by now. I glance around the battlefield, at the dozens of soldiers still actively attacking our team, and then back again, at the five heading my way.
My head swims with confusion.
And then, when they all begin to shoot—terror.
I go invisible, stealing through the single foot of space between two of them, turning back just long enough to open fire. A couple of my shots find their marks; the others are wasted. I reload the clip, tossing the now-empty one to the ground, and just as I’m about to shoot again, I hear her voice.
“Hang on,” she whispers.
Nazeera wraps her