65. Chapter 65
Atticus
As much as I want to break down, I maintain a hold on my control. My inner turmoil at the thought of Arwen being tortured like she was at Greed has me spiraling, but this mission needs my complete focus.
A couple of miles into the drive, a slow unease settles in my chest. Nothing about this feels right.
We haven’t encountered anything that could reasonably be called resistance.
Just the outskirts of Vex’s criminal ridden territory—people lingering in doorways, obvious drug exchanges happening in plain sight.
Men and women carry weapons, but that’s apparently an everyday accessory here.
They pay us no mind, but to eye the convoy suspiciously or disappear into the dilapidated buildings.
Beside me, Maddox leans forward in his seat, eyes scanning the road ahead with intense focus. He lifts the comms. “Are you in yet, Cleo?”
Static sounds in response. Then her voice comes through, strained. “Almost. Security is tight. I’m working on it.”
Maddox exhales. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, more to himself than to us. “I was expecting something by now.”
That’s when it happens.
The sound hits first—a flat, skull-splitting crack that arrives a half-second before the shockwave does.
The world tilts as the vehicle flies.
“Shit—!” someone shouts, but the word gets swallowed as the car slams sideways mid-air.
For a split second, I feel weightless, floating against my seatbelt.
Then everything becomes heavy motion and noise.
Metal screams as we hit the ground on our side. My shoulder collides hard with the door frame, and the seatbelt bites into my chest as the vehicle rolls again, dragging us through dirt and shattered brush.
A third impact hits harder than the rest, and my vision flashes white.
Finally, the movement stops and everything goes quiet except for the light hissing of the car’s engine.
I squint my eyes open as dust and shattered glass fill the air. We’re trapped on our side.
I swallow hard, forcing air back into my lungs as pain radiates up my shoulder and down my ribs. A low groan escapes me before I can stop it.
I lift a hand to my head and pull it back, slick with blood.
“Perfect,” I mutter under my breath.
Maddox is already moving next to me.
He forces his shoulder back into place with a sharp, sickening pop that makes Holly curse from the back seat. I look back at her and Brix. Neither of them looks particularly intact, but they’re breathing.
I reach into my pocket with stiff fingers and pull out the vial Tabby gave me before we left. Breaking the seal, I swallow it in one motion. It burns on the way down, but I feel my body knit back together in real time as clarity returns.
Around me, the others do the same. The front window is already fractured. I kick what’s left of it with both of my feet and crawl through the opening, glass crunching under my boots as the others follow me out.
“We have to get out of here,” Maddox says, eyes already scanning the tree line. “They’ll be here soon.”
On cue, gunfire cracks in the distance, echoing from the road.
“Time to move,” Maddox yells.
And we run.
Straight through the brush of the forest and into the chaos waiting for us.
And it is chaos.
The moment we clear the wreck line, the world turns into a battle scene. Gunfire cracks through the air in sharp, rhythmic bursts, echoing off broken buildings and rusted metal.
People are everywhere, ducking behind walls, leaning out from alley mouths, firing from shattered windows of the abandoned slums. Powers flare around me, cutting through the air in unpredictable bursts.
I spot Sly and Lucas almost immediately on the right flank—back to back, moving like they’ve done this together for years instead of minutes. Lucas is barking something I can’t hear over the gunfire, while Sly is firing in tight, controlled bursts, sweeping the street clean in sections.
Our team is holding.
“Left side!” someone shouts behind me.
I don’t hesitate. He doesn’t even see me coming. I reach out with my power towards a group firing at our team from behind a vehicle.
The closest one has no mental shield at all. I press into his mind and see the shape of his thought, the way he’s weighing his next move, and I twist it, violently, in a new direction.
He turns away from his initial target and fires into the man next to him, shooting his own man in the chest. He does it again two more times before freezing in confusion. Someone shoots him in the head before he even gets a word out.
I ignore the bile creeping up my throat for using my power like this and focus on getting to Arwen. I move on to the next target.
It’s almost too easy out for my power here, where the Gluttons haven’t been trained in mental shields.
I push again. Another shooter shifts mid-aim.
I pull my gun up, firing when I need to, advancing when I can, never stopping long enough to become a target myself. Around me, Maddox’s team is pushing forward in coordinated bursts. We’re making progress, but I can feel the pressure building.
Flames catch my eye to the right, bright and violent against the gray of the concrete.
Holly stands in the center of the destruction. Three gang members are caught in a collapsing wave of fire she’s thrown across the street, roasting them.
She’s terrifying, and I make a mental note to be extra nice to Holly in the future.
That distraction costs me.
It happens too fast to register as the battlefield itself tilts out of alignment. I feel my stomach drop as if something has punched me from the inside out.
Systemic pain spreads through my veins, my body burning as if someone poured a flammable substance into my blood and ignited it from inside.
My hand tries to tighten around my weapon, but my fingers don’t respond. They shake, dropping the gun as I stumble to one knee.
Muscles seize as heat crawls up my spine, twisting through every nerve like it’s consuming me.
My vision blurs red at the edges as a woman steps into view. She has wild, dark hair and eyes that don’t look anchored to reality. Her expression almost delighted as her hands thrum with power.
Wicka.
She tilts her head as I struggle to stay upright.
“Do you feel it?” she asks. “The toxins multiplying in your blood?”
I try to suck in a breath, but it’s like my throat is on fire.
She takes a step closer, fingers curling as if she’s holding invisible threads I can’t see.
“It’s going to kill you,” she continues, voice softening into something almost fond. “You know that, little Pride Heir. The body can only take so much.”
My body spasms again, harder this time.
I hit one hand against the ground to keep myself from collapsing, but it doesn’t help much. The pain is everywhere as my bloodstream turns against me.
Wicka smiles wider, watching me like she’s waiting for me to break.
A flash of blonde hair moves behind her. Hands clamp around Wicka’s forehead with brutal precision. Wicka’s eyes close and her entire body goes slack, dropping into a heap on the ground like someone cut the strings holding her upright.
The pain inside me vanishes quickly. I suck in a breath, almost collapsing from the sudden absence of agony. My vision clears just enough to lock onto the figure standing over Wicka’s fallen body.
“Paris?” I ask, hoarse, disbelief cutting through the remnants of pain still clinging to my limbs.
Paris glances at me once, already turning away. “Wicka’s only passed out,” she says. “Let’s go.”
She jerks her chin toward the chaos ahead, already moving. “Your girl doesn’t have long.”