and everything they have built.”
Nova’s skin tingled. She knew she should be happy to see him so spirited. This was what she wanted, too, she reminded herself. No Renegades. No Council. No villain gangs. Only the Anarchists—invincible to all the world.
With no superheroes to save the day, society would correct itself. No one would lie around waiting for handouts, expecting to be rescued. People would accept their own responsibilities. Defend their own families. And when someone mistreated another human being, their punishment would come from society itself, not some clueless government.
This was what she had fought for.
But not anymore. She had a vision of her own and, for the first time, it did not align with Ace and his ideals. Not entirely.
And so, she raised her voice and declared, simply, “No.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ADRIAN STOOD SHIVERING for a long time, listening to the groans of compromised steel beams and the trickles of broken plaster.
The villains were gone.
The arena was in shambles. The Renegades were in shambles.
But he had faced Ace Anarchy a second time and survived, again. That was no small feat.
“Adrian…”
Simon’s voice from behind him was subdued, and it brought back a shock of memories that had been buried in the storm Ace Anarchy had created.
With a strained gulp, Adrian closed his fist. The clear, shimmering tower dissolved into the air like the remnants of sparklers raining down on them.
Thinking of sparklers made him think of Evander.
He shuddered as he turned to face Simon, braced for disappointment, maybe even anger. His identity as the Sentinel was revealed. He’d had no choice, and yet, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the fallout.
But Simon appeared more relieved than anything as he climbed painfully to his feet. They stared at each other, catching their breaths. Some of the swelling on Simon’s face and arms was starting to go down, the pain gradually receding from his eyes.
Simon held out his arms.
Adrian exhaled and fell into the embrace. Simon flinched and Adrian quickly loosened his grip. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Simon. “We’re all right.” Pulling away, he looked around. “We need to take stock of the injured, prioritize the wounds for any healers who weren’t neutralized, get everyone else to the hospital. I need to check on Tsunami—”
“I’ll get her. You help Dad get those shackles off.”
Adrian ran toward the collapsed wooden stage, upturned and splintered so that it resembled a pile of old lumber more than the platform it had been only hours before. He started pulling the debris away, and soon was joined by others—those who were still strong enough to help. Behind him, he could hear Simon shouting orders, urging the Renegades to help the wounded and start gathering their dead.
Adrian had cleared away half the wooden planks before he finally spotted Tsunami’s white boot. “Please, oh, please,” he murmured, moving faster to reach her. Soon they had uncovered her body. Her eyes were closed and a stream of dark, drying blood covered half of her face, the result of a deep gash to her head.
Adrian fell beside her, searching for a pulse.
At first, he couldn’t be sure if he was mistaking his own thrumming heartbeat for hers. But—no, there it was, faint but steady. “She’s alive!” he cried, even as someone was pressing a cloth to the wound on her head. Others started clearing a path so she could be taken to where a handful of healers were setting up to tend to the wounded.
Adrian scooped Kasumi into his arms. She felt fragile, but he had known her long enough to know her small form was deceptive. She was strong. She would make it through this.
Once he had handed her off to the healers, Adrian made his way through the wreckage, searching for more survivors. Dust coated the inside of his lungs. Smoke stung his eyes. The ground was littered with dead bees and bits of plaster, melted plastics and scorch marks, puddles of filthy water and broken glass.
He started to take stock of their losses, though the sight of so many casualties made him feel like he was being pulled apart, bit by bit. Adrian didn’t know all of his peers well, but he knew enough to have an idea of which of them still lived with their parents, and who had children of their own. Who had been challenged at the trials and who had chosen to work in administration rather than be sent out on patrols. He knew they all believed in their purpose—to seek justice, to protect the