I was already smashing the remaining six or so balls in my hands into one large one and planting it haphazardly at the base of one of the legs holding the radio tower up.
Toss me a detonator, I ordered, and Owen’s hands moved, something small arcing through the air toward me.
Reflexively, I caught it and pushed it in before moving over to the other side, keeping low. The gunfire had cut off unexpectedly, but I could hear whoever was out there scrambling around, searching for a better position.
Rope! I shouted.
Owen looked up at me from across the narrow divide that separated us, and then pulled the coil we’d dragged with us into his hands, tossing it to me. Someone fired at it as it flew through the air, interrupting its trajectory and pushing it back in midair, and it landed a few feet from either of us. I cursed, preparing to lunge for it, when Owen darted out, shimmering from view.
Owen! I shouted as the coil began to move. Gunfire exploded all around us, and Owen grunted, reappearing suddenly in the middle of tossing the rope over to me. He slid through the gravel after it, his hand going to his side and coming away wet with blood.
It’s just a graze, he said. But the suit’s damaged.
Growling, I went to my knees and fired a few shots toward our attackers. I was firing blind, but hopefully it would buy us a few seconds.
We’re pinned down, he said as he dropped, looking at me with a blind, desperate determination in his eyes. My suit is gone. Leave the detonator with me.
He held out his hand, and I gave him an incredulous look.
I’m not doing that, I informed him, ducking as sparks shot off overhead, probably a bullet ricochet, and then rising back to a knee and firing. I saw a shadow peel away from a cluster of shadows creeping around on our right side and realized the door I’d cut into the fence was on that side.
I fired a few rounds near the first approaching warden, and she danced back a few feet, giving me a little time.
Viggo, can’t you see? Owen grabbed my arm and gave me a look, broken and angry, that sent a clench of fear through my heart. This was what I had sensed in him earlier—the despair that made him want to do stuff like this. I have to do this! I can… finally make up for all the wrong I’ve done you and Violet. I can finally see Ian.
A sharp pain tugged at my heart as he spoke, but… I couldn’t let it happen. Not so close after Thomas. This wasn’t the time or the place for a sacrifice. Not one I could prevent.
I’m sorry, I said, pulling out the length of rope as my bullets whizzed by overhead. But I can’t let you off that easy.
Viggo, I—
NO! I said, activating the suit so I could quickly loop the length of rope around the leg of the tower closest to the edge. I’m getting us out of here.
Owen groaned, and I looked over in time to see him lifting his gun up to his shoulder, firing at the mass of wardens now closing in on us.
You stubborn, egotistical jerk! he shouted as he fired. Don’t you know you can’t control everything?
You’re still up and moving, Owen, I retorted, looping the opposite end of the rope into a makeshift harness and getting into it. He fired another couple of rounds and then pulled back, gasping as his hand went back to his side.
Doesn’t mean you get to decide how I die, he said, his voice harsh with pain. I have to do this.
No, you don’t, I said angrily, moving over to him and grabbing him under his armpits, intending to drag him if necessary. We need you, Owen. Morgan needs you to come back and support her. Violet and I need you to help us rebuild. Thomas sacrificed his life so we could do this and get out alive. So you get to die on this roof the exact second after I do, or not at all!
Owen looked up at me as I dragged him closer to the edge, a wry, bitter smile on his lips, but at least he didn’t resist.
What would Violet say if I let you die?
She would understand.
There was a rattle, indicating that the group of wardens had finally reached the fence, and I handed Owen the detonator as I pulled his back tight to my chest, wrapping my hand around his waist. I wrapped my other arm around the rope and took us over the edge, and then began to rappel down using my makeshift harness to slow us. We were a third of the way down when I heard shouting above, and as I kicked off the side of the building, I ordered—Blow it.
I heard the click right before the explosion, so loud my heart felt it, and an orange-red ball of fire erupted above us with an angry roar. We fell away from it, arcing back toward the building. My feet impacted the side, and I kicked off again, releasing more line so fast that the rope sounded like a zipper. We dropped another thirty feet, landing heavily against the side, my ankles and knees bearing the brunt of Owen’s and my combined weight.
Even though my muscles were burning, I kicked off again as bits of flaming debris began to fall all around us. The rope continued to unravel as I let it out, and then suddenly it was burning through the glove I was wearing, cutting into the flesh of my hand with all the bite of a dull knife. I yanked it away, and then we were in freefall. I wrapped both arms around Owen, my feet around his thighs, knowing when the rope caught us we would jerk, and he might fall.
There was a sharp and sudden tug as the rope ran out, and my shoulders and waist screamed in protest as the rope tried to cut right through them, but I kept a hard grip on Owen.
You’re insane! he shouted as we bounced upward a few feet.
We fell back down, the rope tightening again. Then there was a loud creaking sound from above, and I looked up to see the top of the radio tower wobbling, the rope wobbling with it. There was a sharp, metallic twang, and suddenly gravity was pulling us back down.
We landed hard in the bushes below. For a second, I just lay there—gnarled branches and twigs digging into my flesh—staring uncomprehendingly at the roof dozens of feet above, and the tower jutting off of it at an angle, bobbing up and down a few times before going still.
Owen? I asked, sitting up and then stopping as a wave of intense pain radiating from my shoulder warned me not to move.
Looking down, I saw a broken tree branch jutting through my shoulder, right above my collarbone. As if looking at it suddenly made me feel it, I grated my teeth against the fresh wave of pain that seemed to be exploding all around it, but there was very little blood. A good sign.
Owen, I gasped, looking over to my right. Are you okay?
I’m here, he replied softly. Bushes broke our fall. I’m still… You threw us off of the roof.
I did. Can you—
“NOBODY MOVE!” a female voice bellowed, and I tilted my chin to my chest to see a dozen or so wardens—one of them holding a flame thrower, of all things—standing in a semi-circle around us while fire and smoke wafted up from the rooftop. I lifted my uninjured arm, straining against the pain, flicking off my subvocalizer while I was at it, and put on my most congenial smile.
“We have important information about Queen Elena that shows she’s a war criminal,” I announced very slowly, wincing as the pain in my shoulder continued to grow.
“Tell it to the brig,” one of the women snapped, coming around and hauling Owen up. Then it was my turn, and before I could point out the branch, I was hauled off of it, the branch yanked out. My vision went white as the pain took me over, and I felt myself being dragged away.
Please, I thought to myself, let Violet be okay.
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OceanofPDF.com
VIOLET
Now that Elena was on the rampage, the boys moved—some of them much faster than others, some running away, some attacking, the difference between the ones in masks and the ones not blurring—but I looked away and down, searching for the gun Tim had pulled out of the queen’s hands. I could hear the sounds of fighting, Elena grunting, but I focused on finding the gun, knowing the boys were protecting me, giving me a few extra seconds.
“She fast!” Tim warned from behind me, and I looked up to see several blurs moving acro
ss the roof, barely ducking in time as a boy was flung over my head, landing a few feet behind me. Tim raced over to help him, and I continued my search, keeping an eye on the fighting.
“She must’ve taken pills for speed and strength at the same time,” I shouted back, spotting the gun a few feet away and making for it.
I was halfway to it when Elena’s face was suddenly in my vision, just inches away, the smile on her lips growing wide, until her teeth were bared like a snake’s.
“I never imagined I could feel this way,” she said softly, stepping forward, forcing me to step back. “I knew I wanted you dead—but that was practical. Now I want you dead because… I think… I think I hate you. Isn’t that weird?”
She spoke in low, lethal tones, her voice pleasant, and it sent a wave of apprehension through me. Looking over my shoulder, I tried to spot something—anything—that would help me stop her, and I realized some of the boys were down, the others missing. She had torn through them so fast. It was horrifying.
Elena gave me the chance to look, her face softening a touch.
“You are really pretty, aren’t you?” she said, reaching out with a hand, then snatching it back. “I think I hate that too.” Then she giggled and turned away, spinning around in delight before stopping and looking up at the moon.
“They told me I shouldn’t take all the pills, y’know,” she said softly, and I got the feeling she didn’t care who was listening, she just wanted to speak. “Said it would cause problems, but I can’t tell what they are. I can’t even remember. All I feel is this… tightness in my chest when I look at you. It sets my teeth on edge. Makes my head hurt. What is that?”
I exhaled softly and reached into my pocket, pulling out my last and final tranquilizer dart. Her back was to me right now. If I could keep her distracted, maybe I could just… slide it in.
“It’s anger,” I told her, taking a step closer.
“Anger. Huh. So this is what Tabitha felt all the time.” She continued to look up at the moon, her voice serene, as though she had not a care in the world. I reached over, intent on driving the needle into her back—and then Elena blurred out of view, and the next thing I knew my hand was twisted up behind my back, the dart falling from my nerveless fingers.
She managed to catch it with her other hand and held it up in front of me, pressing her cheek to the back of my head.
“Right now it feels like fire under my skin,” she hissed into my ear. “Like there’s something toxic coursing through my veins, and the only cure for it is to see you lying so still, so silent—the stillness only death can bring.”
I struggled to break her hold, but she held me tight, seeming to anticipate my moves. Her hand went up to my throat, catching it in a terrible grip and squeezing so hard my vision went gray. My lungs kept trying to expand for more air, but nothing could get past her rigid hand.
“ELENA!” a voice screamed, and suddenly I was on my already-battered knees, coughing and sucking in precious gulps of air. I managed to scramble around to face the roof access door, and saw a small figure standing there at the edge of the steps—Morgan, lit by the moon, challenging her sister.
Elena moved away from where she had dropped me, toward her younger sibling, and Tim raced over to me.
“Violet?”
“I’m fine,” I wheezed. “Help Morgan.”
He nodded and darted off, while I climbed back to my feet, trying to figure out where the gun had gone.
“Morgana,” Elena seethed, moving over. “I’d hoped those psychotic young men would deal with you.”
Morgan smirked, but the expression looked pained. “Your hopes were in vain.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You look awful.”
“Then maybe you’ll finally be able to beat me,” Morgan replied. “But I doubt it. Mother always said I was the best fighter in the family.”
“Be sure to tell her that when you see her again.”
A deadly silence followed Elena’s statement, and I whirled to see her blurred form racing right for Morgan. But Morgan took a step to one side at precisely the right moment, and Elena pressed forward too far, now unbalanced by Morgan’s disappearance. The blurred lines of Elena came into focus as she slammed into the handrail, so I could see the surprised look on her face as she crashed to the ground a few paces past it.
Morgan chuckled dryly as she painstakingly turned.
“I could never understand your obsession with strength and speed as the better enhancements,” she announced, her green eyes watching Elena as she picked herself off the ground.
“This is nonsense,” Elena growled, dusting off her pants as she righted herself. “Let’s end this so I can finally get around to killing Violet.”
She moved toward Morgan—not at a run, but at a sedate, almost relaxed pace—and pulled back her fist as she closed the distance. Morgan smirked at her, easily evading the blow, moving back a few feet and coming to a stop. Elena again raced in to hit her, and once again, Morgan sidestepped.
“I don’t think it’s nonsense,” she said, continuing to evade Elena’s blows with graceful skill. “I genuinely want to know. I’m betting you only used those two pills, in fact. You always did value martial prowess over the ability to dodge bullets or evade blows. But really—and maybe I’m a bit biased—but really I always thought enhanced reflexes”—her fist lashed out, hitting Elena square in the face, and Elena moved back a few steps, clearly dazed—“was the better power.”
Elena raised a hand to her stunned face, touching her lips. Even from there I could see the glisten of blood on her fingertips. She stared at it, her face intently focused on it. Then a laugh escaped her, soft and surprised, followed by another, then another, until she was laughing wildly.
I looked over at Morgan and saw her looking at me, alarm on her face, and I renewed my quest for the gun. I spotted it as the tide of laughter began to dwindle, and began moving slowly, trying to angle around Elena to reach it while her attention was focused on Morgan.
Then Elena blurred, moving toward Morgan, and Morgan stepped to the left—but Elena’s trajectory shifted, the blur changing angles just a fraction.
I could hear the impact that followed. Elena stood—foot and fist forward—as Morgan flew backward, landing hard on the gravel. She was still for a moment, and my heart pounded, horrified at the way she lay like a corpse. But then she let out a choked groan, and began to move around.
Elena pulled back her fist, a crooked smile slashed across her face, and then she blurred again, just as Morgan reached her knees. There was a wet crack, and Morgan flew back a few more feet, rolling on her side. She coughed, the sound wet with blood, and Elena moved to her form, bending over and grabbing her younger sister.
That was when Tim appeared from nowhere, halfway in the air, his boot extended. His foot planted square in Elena’s face, followed immediately by his other foot as he flipped over, landing precisely in the gravel between Morgan and Elena. Then he vanished again, before Elena could even stop grabbing at her face to see what had hit her, only to reappear right behind her, landing a high kick to the back of her head.
I raced for the gun, sliding painfully to my knees in my desperation to get to her. Elena had regained her footing and was looking warily around. Her thermal goggles were no longer on her head, and I hoped they’d gotten knocked off in the fighting.
Every instinct in my body was screaming in alarm. I had to kill her—I had to. If I didn’t, she would kill all of us one by one. There was no reasoning with her; her mental state was rapidly deteriorating, and if she killed us, there would be no one stopping her from killing every man—every person—who remained in Patrus.
I raised my hand, bracing it, and took aim, my hand steady and my heart sure—when Tim reappeared again. Once again he was in the air, a kick directed at the queen, but she blurred, and the next thing I knew Tim was flying toward me.
I stood to catch him, but he hit a few feet ahead of me with a thud. I met Elena’s
eyes as I raced forward to him, my heart in my throat at how still my brother was. She smirked, and then beat me to him, using her enhanced speed to get there, her enhanced strength to haul him up by the throat, and… after what I had just seen… her enhanced reflexes to dodge the bullet I sent flying at her in a panicked rage.
“Put him down,” I screamed, fear grasping at my heart as my little brother’s legs kicked in midair, a choked sound escaping him.
“Oh, all right then!” Elena smiled, and stepped back toward the side of the building, keeping Tim between us. I shifted, circling to try to draw a bead on her, but every time I did, she would reposition him so that he was between us. Tim frantically clawed at her wrist, trying to break her grip, but I could tell his strength was fading.
“DON’T!” I cried, my heart breaking as she brought him ever closer to the edge. “PLEASE!”
I was begging, and I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t let her kill my brother. I would go crazy.
“Violet, I’m just doing what you asked,” she taunted cruelly. “I’m going to put him down, and then I’m going to rip your throat out and bathe in the blood!”
I squeezed a shot off, going for her foot, desperate to stop her. But I missed, and she flung my brother to one side—right over the edge of the building. I saw him falling and screamed, firing wildly. Elena blurred, dodging the bullets.
The gun was knocked out of my hand with such force that I spun around, my arm aching and throbbing angrily, reminding me that it had been broken until recently, and then what hair I had was yanked sharply in a fist as Elena started to drag me over to the edge.
“Time to join your little brother,” she crooned as she hefted me up by my hair. The pain was agonizing, but not as awful as the look on her face as she gazed at me. “Goodbye, Violet,” she said, her grin turning victorious.
I grabbed her wrist, trying to break her grasp—or hold on, or take her down with me—as she swung me around. Then, suddenly, she stumbled back, and I fell to my feet again, only inches from the edge of the roof. Dazed, my head throbbing, I looked over to see someone on Elena’s back, holding her firmly across the chest and then hauling the surprised woman back to the edge.
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