Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
EMMA
Rachel wasted no time on semantics or strategy.
People threatened her Collective, she answered. No hesitation, no committee meeting, no twelve-step plan. Strategy, in Rachel’s world, wasn’t deliberation, it was violence with good timing.
Which is how I ended up strapped into Offensive gear for the first time in almost two months, shivering my ass off in the Canadian snow, trudging toward the border between the Human World and the Collective.
Just once, couldn’t our enemies stage their bullshit somewhere warm? The Caribbean would’ve been nice.
Hell, I’d take anywhere that doesn’t involve frostbite as a team-building exercise.
Her plan was peak Rachel Varez, intercept before invasion. Humans had been spotted near the edge of the Collective; a swarm of trucks, armored carriers, and soldiers who looked way too excited to freeze to death out here.
Rachel fully intended to end the whole situation before any of them finished their protein bars.
My breath fogged in the icy air, and the sharp bite of winter cut through the seams of my jacket, chilling me to the bone. The snow crunched under my boots, each step an uncomfortable reminder that I was not used to this kind of mothaflapping cold.
But I didn’t care. US military had crossed the national border and the prospect of killing the people at least partly responsible for the death of my parents could keep me warm through fifty Canadian winters.
James was walking up front, his expression hard. Still sulking about me deciding to come along—which, according to him, amounted to the biggest betrayal of his life. Well, he was the expert on the subject, so he would know.
Caden was walking next to Rachel, close enough that their arms nearly touched.
That didn’t annoy me at all.
And now, she was laughing like he’d just delivered the stand-up set of the century. Fine, the guy had his funny moments, but he wasn’t about to film a godsdamn Netflix special.
Did he really need to flirt right now? We were headed for battle for crying out loud! What was he going to do? Charm these assholes to death?
Not that he was charming to me.
He hadn’t said a word since our fight, couldn’t even spare a glance in my direction.
Which was fine. For the best, even. It was only physical attraction, and I’d made a rational, well-considered decision not to entertain it further. I’d already lost my parents, no way in hell was I setting myself up to lose anyone else.
Still, my chest twisted at the memory of saying those words out loud. I shifted uncomfortably, forcing my attention forward, refusing to look at the way Rachel’s hand lingered on Caden’s arm as she turned toward him, as if she had every right to touch what wasn’t hers.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. It didn’t matter.
But did he really have to be that hot?
Focus Thompson. It’s only physical attraction. You’ll get over it. Get your head in the game.
Right.
War.
Sean had speed-updated me on the current political mess while we marched, his words clipped and fast to match the urgency in the air. From what I gathered, the Leader of Kanata C—Vincent-something who was Rachel’s boss—had struck an accord with the Canadian Prime Minister.
The terms were simple, but dangerous: the Collective would be open to all Canadian humans, and in return, Canada would open its borders to all magi.
On paper, it looked like peace. But peace was never that clean.
Because this meant the Layers of Protection—the ancient barriers that had kept humans out of Kanata C for cycles—would be lifted. Humans could now walk straight into the Collective.
All humans.
Humans with weapons.
Humans with agendas.
The worst timing in the history of…well, everything.
As we charged toward the edge of the Metasphere—the physical, now unprotected, border between Kanata C and the Canadian Human World—hoping to hold off the incoming US military forces, Sean kept rambling beside me about the audacity of humans to cross into our world without warning.
I barely heard him, as my focus drifted back to the First Offensive leading us.
Rachel—tall, striking, the kind of beautiful that made even battle armor look like a runway piece—didn’t slow, didn’t flinch. She simply pushed forward into the storm as if she could bend the world to her will through sheer force of stubborn determination.
Meanwhile, I trudged along in her shadow, five-foot-nothing and looking more like a pissed off garden gnome than a warrior.
Fucking perfect.
Rachel raised a fist ahead of me, signaling a halt. The line of Offensives behind us slowed, and I scanned the tree line ahead, the Metasphere border barely visible through the swirling snow, a thin shimmer of distorted air, like heat rising off asphalt.
James was the first to spot it. His body tensed, his arm shooting out his Skindo.
“There,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “Two o’clock.”
A figure moved through the trees, too fast, too purposeful to be lost. A human. Dressed in military attire, face obscured beneath a hood, rifle ready in arms.
And then another figure emerged. And another. Shadows multiplying between the trees, gray and green uniforms bleeding into the snow until I couldn’t tell where the forest ended and the soldiers began.
My stomach tightened. My breath puffed white in the freezing air as I turned to Sean.
“They are all human, right?” The question came out a little hesitant. “Since we’re more powerful, shouldn’t we…go easier on them?”
Sean’s jaw clenched, his focus never leaving the advancing line. The crunch of boots on snow carried across the silence, rifles glinting dark through the flurries.
“In my experience,” he muttered, the words like frost snapping brittle, “us being more powerful makes them more dangerous.”
“He’s right,” James said, low and grim. “The more scared people are, the more volatile they become.”
A gust cut through us, rattling the trees, sending snow hissing across the ground.
I cocked my head, and Caden’s gaze clashed with mine for a second, a quick current of understanding passing between us. Even with him ignoring me for the last few hours, we’d been on too many missions together for me not to know what he was thinking.
“No mercy,” I whispered, acknowledging his silent command.
His eyes darkened, a brief flicker of something dangerous passing over his face. He gave a single, curt nod before turning his back to me again.
“Okay,” Sean breathed. His hand flexed at his side, light flickering between his fingers as translation energy crackled to life. “Let’s have some fun.”
Rachel’s order cut through the wind. “Positions.”
We all moved as one. James slid into place at my left flank, Skindo-blades unsheathing with a smooth metallic hiss.
Sean fell in behind me, his invisible energy already buzzing with restrained violence. My own Skindo burned beneath my palm as I shot it out, the cold metal warming instantly to my touch.
“This is Kanata C’s First Offensive speaking,” Rachel’s voice rang out across the frozen field, while her attention never wavered from the line of humans ahead. “You are trespassing, and we are within our rights to defend our home.”
A figure stepped forward, crunching over the ice, rifle slung at his side but his presence no less hostile.
“We do not wish to attack you,” he said, his voice hard enough to carry.
“We are not here for war. We do not care what you are. We are only here to arrest Emma Thompson.” He paused; his stare fixed like a sight.
“But be advised, we will fight our way to her.”
I moved forward, but James’s hand shot out, clamping hard around my arm. “Take another step, and I’ll drag you through a portal back to your room.”
I ripped free of his grip, annoyance flaring in my chest. “I can very well decide for myself, thank you.”
Rachel’s declaration rang out clear. “Your accusations against her are unsubstantiated. We will protect Ms. Thompson’s freedom with the full force of this Collective.”
“She’s killed humans on US soil. She killed her own parents!” another voice snapped from behind the tree line.
I flinched, breath catching, my stomach dropping to ice. That’s what they thought? That I killed my own parents?
Not now. No weakness, Emma.
“Final warning,” Rachel called, her threat razor-sharp. “Turn back. Now.”
Without another word, the man at the front lifted his rifle, every inch of the motion a challenge.
I didn’t hesitate. The first gunshot cracked through the air as I surged forward, power already sparking under my skin.
I saw the bullet—felt its trajectory like a pressure change—and snapped a Skindo blade into its path. The metal rang as it collided, the round deflecting harmlessly off into a nearby tree.
With a flick of my haze, the remaining four blades spun free and shot forward in unison, each finding its mark. My first targets fell together, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man who had called for my arrest.
Their heads hit the ground before their bodies did.
I stood in the silence that followed, chest heaving, staring down at what I’d done.
And gods help me, it felt good.
No, right.
Like the first sip of something dark and forbidden. The first taste of revenge.
And with it came a thirst I already knew would be impossible to quench.
He wasn’t the one who killed my parents, but he was still working with or for the people who’d ordered it. Who’d enabled it. And that would do.
For now.
“Open fire!” Rachel shouted somewhere behind me.
Sean’s haze tore forward in a jagged line, shifting into its familiar emerald color the second it crossed into the Human World. It blasted through the snow and slammed straight into a cluster of humans charging out from the trees.
Caden flowed through the nearest hostiles with quiet, terrifying precision, each movement practiced to the point of artistry. His Chela whispered; throats opened. Blood splattered across the snow in dark, startling bursts.