Chapter Thirty-Three
Christian’s rifle barked above her head. “Stay with me, Gem,” he shouted, pivoting to gun down two who tried to flank. He dropped his rifle the instant it clicked empty, knives flashing into his hands in a second.
Gemma’s vision cleared in a violet haze, her arms trembling from the rebound.
Hawk snarled, carving open a soldier’s thigh before slamming an elbow into his helmet. The soldier’s balance faltered as another came up on his blind side—Imara’s bullet caught the soldier in the neck and dropped him in a spray of blood.
“On your left, Hawk!” Imara shouted, already taking her next shot.
A deep ache nipped at her bones, but Gemma pushed herself onto her feet, drawing her blades into her hands.
So they had a way to block her shield. Big deal.
They hadn’t yet felt her wrath.
She shoved off her feet. A soldier lunged, but she didn’t flinch. In one fluid motion, she sidestepped and slashed across the back of his knee. His shield sparked at the impact, but strength found flesh where her power could not. He dropped with a howl.
Another came from her left. Gemma spun, faster than she’d ever have been able to move in her human body. Her blades flashed in a seamless arc. The soldier’s rifle clattered uselessly to the ground before his head lolled back, blood spilling down his armor.
Christian was a shadow at her side, knives glinting in the lamps’ light as he cut down a soldier trying to flank her. “That’s my girl,” he rasped.
Gemma surged forward, blades crossing in a brutal X that caught an armored soldier at the chest. Sparks exploded as his shield faltered.
She drove a boot into his stomach, forcing him back into the line of fighters.
Hawk barreled through the gap she opened, his brute strength finishing off the Systems soldier.
The battle had become hand-to-hand chaos. Grunts and screams echoed through Tent City.
Gemma fought like she’d been born for this moment.
Her body moved with perfect instinct, every pivot precise, every swing an extension of her breath.
And unlike the battle in Zion, there was no giddy alien power feeding on her fear this time.
She was in control. And she would protect those she loved.
Gemma ducked beneath a swinging rifle, her blade flashing up to carve the soldier’s throat. She twisted, blocking another’s strike aimed at Christian’s ribs. Their movements had synchronized, becoming a seamless dance of knives and fury, each protecting the other’s blind side without needing words.
She yelped when a blade caught her arm. Violet blood stained her skin, but she didn’t falter. She leapt forward, blades whirling in a vicious arc, slicing clean through the soldier’s gut. They fell to the ground, screaming.
“Now!” The Systems’ command cracked sharp over the roar of battle, slicing the noise like a gunshot.
Gemma barely had time to register it before a blinding flash detonated.
White light seared across Tent City. The air shuddered with a piercing whine that rattled her bones. Her tattoos flared wild in defense but did nothing to blunt the sensory overload. She cried out, throwing an arm over her eyes.
“Send in the heavy reinforcements!” one of the Systems soldiers shouted.
“Robots at the ready!” another called out.
The white brilliance finally guttered, leaving afterimages burned into Gemma’s vision. She blinked hard, trying to force the smears of light away.
Boots thundered across the floor, as the Systems soldiers moved in unison toward what remained of the rope rig. A handful of them fired covering bursts, but one by one, they climbed fast and vanished into the darkness above.
“Let’s get out of here. Move!” Nadine yelled, her voice like iron.
Christian slung his rifle and grabbed Gemma’s hand.
Nadine was already running toward the hatch. “Everyone still breathing, through the pipe. Go!”
Her soldiers didn’t need to be told twice.
Nadine shoved the wounded ahead of the group then followed them inside.
Hawk and Imara entered next, leaving Christian and Gemma to bring up the rear.
The pipe’s mouth yawned wide and black, the stench of rust and stagnant water hitting hard.
They shut the door behind them with a bang.
The ascent was slick and brutal. Their boots slipped against the corroded surface, and the stench burned Gemma’s throat. The echoes of grunts and curses ricocheted through the metal shaft. Christian’s hand never left hers, even when the angle steeped and they half-slid-half-fell through darkness.
Shouts echoed ahead, and then the pipe spilled them out into a cavernous tunnel, wide and dripping with condensation.
Figures were already there—those who had escaped first—clustered in the shadows with rifles slung and blades drawn.
They snapped to attention the moment Nadine emerged, mud streaked across her vest, her hair half undone but her command unshaken.
“Status!” she barked.
“Seventy-three accounted for,” someone answered. “Five missing.”
Grief twisted through the group, but Nadine cut it down. “We’ve planned for this, remember? It was only a matter of time before they found us. We mourn when we win.”
A wiry man with a scorched vest jogged up to Nadine. “It’s ready for you.” He jerked a thumb in the direction from where he’d run.
Gemma’s pulse surged, her tattoos flaring, as she hurried after her sister to a rusted wall panel. Behind it, a tangle of wires and a corroded mic hung like forgotten relics.
“What is this?” Gemma asked.
“Part of the old intercom system,” Nadine replied, flipping a switch. The machine hummed to life. “The Systems abandoned it when they switched to biochips. But the backbone’s still alive, and we’ve been ready to use it.”
Gemma’s gaze swept over what was left of the Dissent: mud-streaked fighters and limping survivors, bloodied but unbroken. They had a lot of courage, sure. But even with the pockets of Dissenters throughout Perileos, they’d never have enough manpower to overtake the Systems.
“Use me,” Gemma said to Nadine. “I may not be able to use my powers against their shields, but I can protect all of you. I can shield you.”
Nadine smirked. “I doubt your shield could reach that wide.”
Gemma’s brows furrowed.
“Wait ’til you see how many of us there really are.” Nadine’s blue eyes flared with excitement as she took the battered mic in her hands. Her boots ground on the slick, crimson stone as she shouted, “Pay attention!”
For a heartbeat, silence fell, broken only by drips of condensation and the clicks of guns being loaded.
“This is it,” she said, her voice carrying sharp and unyielding. “This is the moment we’ve bled for, prepared endlessly for. The Systems think they cornered us. Tonight, we show them what a cornered city does. We rise.”
The roar that followed made Gemma’s heart flutter.
Nadine gripped the mic, her knuckles white, and flipped the switch on the intercom with a massive grin on her face.
“People of Perileos.” Her voice boomed, rattling through the concrete walls and—Gemma guessed—through every ancient speaker wired into the veins of their city.
Gemma pictured her sister’s voice bursting into cramped flats, spilling down mineshafts, vibrating along the old tram lines.
Workers pausing mid-shift. Families frozen in their homes.
“This is Nadine Proctor, leader of the Dissent. The Systems are here at last. They came to burn us out like they always swore they would. But they made one mistake.” Her voice rose, steady and sharp.
“They think you’ll bow. They think you’ll let them take what’s ours.
They think Perileos—and all of Reva—belongs to them. ”
Shouts broke out amongst those nearby. Dissent fighters pounded weapons against the walls, a drumbeat of fury.
“Not anymore,” Nadine continued. “Reva belongs to the people of Perileos. Tonight, we stand, and we take her back.”
The intercoms cut out, leaving only the echo of Nadine’s words. For a heartbeat, silence clung to Perileos, heavy and waiting. Gemma held her breath, pulse hammering in her ears. The glow of her tattoo thrummed with restless energy, like the city itself had pressed against her skin.
She closed her eyes and focused her heightened senses.
It only took seconds for her Revarian hearing to illuminate the sound. A faint rumble at first, almost too low to catch, then louder—metal groaning, fists hammering against old conduits, voices calling out through the tunnels. The sound rolled toward them in waves, swelling until it was undeniable.
The city was waking up.
Gemma’s throat ached. She could feel them now, the weight of thousands waking from fear, answering Nadine’s call. It was like the air itself shifted, vibrating with resolve. For the first time, the city didn’t feel beaten. It felt alive.
Gemma stared at her sister with tears in her eyes.
Nadine’s shoulders sagged for a single breath before she straightened, her expression fierce. Hawk and Imara exchanged a look, and even Lysa—pale and wide-eyed—was trembling, not with fear but with something brighter, sharper.
Hope.
“Ready your weapons,” Nadine said, eyes blazing. “Anyone too injured to fight, stay here with Polly. Everyone else, you’re with me.”
The fighters around her straightened instantly. Weapons shifted into ready hands, vests were donned, and blades were sheathed. The hesitation that shadowed Tent City was gone, replaced with unity as sharp as a revarium steel blade.
Gemma’s pulse surged. She slid her daggers free, the violet glow of her tattoos catching on the metal.
Christian checked his rifle, jaw tight, while Hawk wiped blood from his brow, re-tied the patch over his ruined eye, and pulled a fresh set of knives from his vest. Imara reloaded with practiced precision, her prosthetic hissing softly with each movement.
Around them, the survivors hardened, their fear caged behind something sharper:
Readiness.
And then Gemma caught sight of Lysa. She was strapping a basaltweave vest over her shirt, her hands steady as she adjusted the buckles.
Christian froze. “No way. L—no. You’re not—”
“I am.” Lysa’s green eyes flashed in determination as she picked up a collapsible fighting staff, its ends capped in metal that hummed faintly with a low electrical charge.
At a flick of her wrist, it extended to full length with a snap.
She spun it once, clean and practiced. Blue-white static snapped at one end.
“You think I just sat around the flat while you were off doing your thing?” Lysa said. “I found a sensei. Trained every hour I had. I’m good, Christian.”
He swallowed, torn between fury and terror.
She tapped the edge of the staff against the ground, the sound sharp as a promise. “You’re not leaving me behind.”
Hawk chuckled low, impressed.
Gemma felt the tension between them, the protectiveness in Christian’s chest warring with the mettle in Lysa’s heart.
Gemma put a hand on Christian’s arm, grounding him. “She knows what she’s doing.”
Christian’s jaw worked, but finally he gave a single, rough nod. His voice came out tight. “Just stay with me, okay?”
Lysa’s answering smile was fierce. “Deal.”
Nadine’s voice cut through the moment, sure and commanding. “We link with the Dissenters in Zone 12. From there, we cut through to the streets to Gallowood House. We take their base of operation, we take the city. Let’s show them what it means when Perileos fights back.”