of the lab’s control room. All of her theories and experiments. It worked—the Federation’s grip on its Ghosts seems to be breaking down.
The soldiers beside the nearest Ghost turn toward it. One of them makes the mistake of rapping his gun against the glass, yelling at the Ghost to calm down. But the noise just startles the creature—it throws itself at the glass with such force that it leaves a trickle of blood on the surface. The glass shudders.
These Ghosts’ fixation on us may be broken, but they are still creatures motivated by some sense of survival. If they break out of their prisons, they may go on a blind rampage in self-defense.
“We have to go,” Adena hisses at me.
Red shudders in his chamber. His lips curl into a snarl as the soldiers turn their attention on him.
The Chief Architect struggles in my grasp. I don’t have time to wrestle with her—I release her instead and lunge toward Red’s cage. A sword and gun are in my hands now. One, two shots—I hit a couple of the soldiers hard and they crumple.
It’s too late to take a shot at the Premier now; he’s retreated behind a phalanx of soldiers. Everywhere in the lab, chaos reigns—the Ghosts are shrieking now, each of them ramming into the glass walls as hard as they can, so hard that some of them crack their heads from the force.
I’m about to dash into the fray of soldiers by Red’s chamber when a slender young figure lands right in front of us in a perfect crouch, his face half covered by his mask. It’s Jeran. He barrels into the soldiers like a possessed madman. All I see is the flash of silver blades and blood.
I dart through the crowd like water. Inside Red’s chamber, he’s already in position near the entrance and bracing himself against the glass. His eyes lock on mine.
I reach the door and break it open for him. Instantly, he bursts out through the entrance, his wings extended and eyes glowing.
All around us, glass shatters. Ghosts break free.
More soldiers are pouring into the space, their attention turned on the Ghosts—but for the first time, I see the Ghosts, blind in their fury, turning indiscriminately on whoever is blocking their path. I rush to help Adena, who’s fighting off a dozen guards in one corner. Daggers appear in my hands. I throw them and they hit true. Two of the soldiers collapse.
But there are so many of them. Overhead, Red cuts a line through some of the soldiers as we make a dash for the exit corridor we’d used to enter earlier. All around me, Ghosts are shattering their glass walls, some of them injuring themselves so badly in the process that they crawl, shrieking, on the ground.
It is a scene of madness.
Had we truly succeeded? It seems wildly impossible that this mission may actually end with us crippling the Federation—that, despite everything the Speaker did, we may have destroyed their hold on their war beasts.
The corridor comes into view. At the end of it, though, is a line of soldiers, all with guns drawn and waiting for us.
Beside me, Adena yanks out one of her daggers and flings it at the soldiers. She catches one—but there are still too many of them. As they head toward us, I draw the blades I’d taken from the soldiers and give Adena a nod. Somewhere behind us, Red is fighting in his weakened state through the throngs. The Ghosts are all loose now, their bloodcurdling screams filling the air. I face our enemies and brace myself.
Jeran glances back once at Adena, then darts ahead at the soldiers. Watching him attack is like watching a perfect storm in action—everywhere at once, cutting down all in his path. He arcs and bends, his blades deadly in their efficiency. Adena wastes no time. She falls right into place beside her Shield, moving in sync with his every attack, weaving around him whenever he ducks to slice through soldiers’ calves, stepping forward whenever he shifts back. Even without our full arsenal of weapons, they are a sight to behold.
I cut forward as we force ourselves through the corridor. I hear Jeran suck in his breath in pain—an arrow has pierced straight through his side. Adena immediately pushes him behind her as two soldiers lunge at them. Her swords whirl.
I don’t feel the slashes through my sleeves and vest. I don’t feel the pain from the bloody wounds I’m accumulating. If