J. “Juliette?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Kill them.”
“Yes, sir.”
J moves forward just as Anderson pulls something from his pocket, aiming its sharp, blue light in Warner’s direction. This time, when J throws her arm out, Warner goes flying, his body slamming hard against the stone wall.
He falls to the floor with a gasp, the wind knocked from his lungs, and I take advantage of the moment to rush forward, pulling my invisibility around us both.
He shoves me away.
“Come on, bro, we have to get out of here— This isn’t a fair fight—”
“You go,” he says, clutching his side. “Go find Nazeera, and then find the other kids. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not going to be fine,” I hiss. “She’s going to kill you.”
“That’s fine, too.”
“Don’t be stupid—”
The metal tables providing us our only bit of cover go flying, crashing hard against the opposite wall. I take one last glance at Warner and make a split-second decision.
I throw myself into the fight.
I know I only have a second before my brain matter joins Ibrahim’s on the floor, so I make it count. I pull my gun from its holster and shoot three, four times.
Five.
Six.
I bury lead in Anderson’s body until he’s knocked back by the force of it, sagging to the floor with a hacking, bloody cough. J rushes forward but I disappear, darting behind a table, and once the weapon in Anderson’s hand clatters to the floor, I shoot that, too. It pops and cracks, briefly catching fire as the tech explodes.
J cries out, falling to her knees beside him.
“Kill them,” Anderson gasps, blood staining the edges of his lips. “Kill them all. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”
“Yes, sir,” Juliette says.
Anderson coughs. Fresh blood seeps from his wounds.
J gets to her feet and turns around, scanning the room for us, but I’m already rushing over to Warner, throwing my invisibility over us both. Warner seems a little stunned, but he’s miraculously uninjured.
I try to help him to his feet, and for the first time, he doesn’t push away my arm. I hear him inhale. Exhale.
Never mind, he’s a little injured.
I wait for him to do something, say something, but he just stands there, staring at J. And then—
He pulls back his invisibility.
I nearly scream.
J pivots when she spots him, and immediately runs forward. She picks up a table, throws it at us.
We dive out of the way so hard I nearly break my nose against the ground. I can still hear things shattering around us when I say,
“What the hell were you thinking? You just blew our chance to get out of here!”
Warner shifts, glass crunching beneath him. He’s breathing hard.
“I was serious about what I said, Kishimoto. You should go. Find Nazeera. But this is where I need to be.”
“You mean you need to be getting killed right now? That’s where you need to be? Do you even hear yourself??”
“Something is wrong,” Warner says, dragging himself to his feet. “Her mind is trapped, trapped inside of something. A program. A virus. Whatever it is, she needs help.”
J screams, sending another earthquake through the room. I slam into a table and stumble backward. A sharp pain shoots through my gut and I suck in my breath. Swear.
Warner has one arm out against the wall, steadying himself. I can tell he’s about to step forward, directly into the fight, and I grab his arm, pull him back.
“I’m not saying we give up on her, okay? I’m saying that there has to be another way. We need to get out of here, regroup. Come up with a better plan.”
“No.”
“Bro, I don’t think you understand.” I glance at J, who’s stalking forward, eyes burning, the ground fissuring before her. “She’s really going to kill you.”
“Then I will die.”
That’s it.
Warner’s last words before he leaves.
He meets J in the middle of the room and she doesn’t hesitate before taking a violent swing at his face.
He blocks.
She swings again. He blocks. She kicks. He ducks.
He’s not fighting her.
He only matches her, move for move, meeting her blows, anticipating her mind. It reminds me of his fight with Anderson back at the Sanctuary—how he never struck his father, only defended himself. It was obvious then that he was just trying to enrage his father.
But this—
This is different. It’s clear that he’s not enjoying this. He’s not trying to enrage her, and he’s not trying to defend himself. He’s fighting her for her. To protect her.
To save her, somehow.
And I have no idea if this is going to work.
J clenches