by Angel Lawson
He thinks it over and nods. “Sure. I’ll give you five minutes when the time comes, but if you fight? It’s over.”
She nods.
They have a deal.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Casper
Jensen is a shit driver.
The car swerves around two others, narrowly missing a fire hydrant. Casper mutters under his breath, thinking they’ll probably never even get to the stadium alive to save the others.
“What’s that?” Jensen asks. The man’s hair is wild, his eyes panicked. When Casper called him, he freaked out. Not that it’s unreasonable. If the Goblin calls you, shit has hit the absolute fan.
“N-n-n-nothing. Watch the road.”
Rowe is an idiot. He has no idea the masks have high tech in them and he hasn’t forced them to take them off. Casper has watched the whole thing go down, from the marina to the van ride to the theatrics in the belly of the stadium on his tablet. He doesn’t get worried until Astrid agrees to Rowe’s plan.
“W-w-who’s in charge?” he asks Jensen. “W-w-who does he work for?”
“A higher up. I have no idea. I never reported to anyone directly. It’s why I had so much freedom with the recruits. I should have known better.”
“Yeah, you f-f-f-ucking should have.”
“I thought it was under control. I had no idea Rowe was a mole. None. I just thought he was a prick that would be really good at taking out terrorist cells.”
Casper laughs.
“I didn’t realize,” he continues, “that he was part of a terrorist cell. He got past all of us.”
“W-w-what do you know about Rex?”
Jensen blasts through a yellow light already shifting red. Casper holds on to the car door. He’s not used to being out in a car. Two times lately. He’s making progress. Too bad he’ll probably be dead before the night is over.
“That’s the catch. There are a few Supers showing up that I never knew survived. Rex, Blaze…god knows who else. We lost track of people after the fire. Everything was chaotic and very discrete. But…”
“B-b-but what?”
“But I think maybe we mis-calculated. Not dead, but taken. And unfortunately, being raised with a different mentality. You have to admit, the ones they took? They’re deadly.”
The stadium is up ahead. The road’s packed with cars, traffic, police, and everything else expected at a major event like this soccer match. Anxiety builds in Casper’s chest. He’s never been around this many people—this much humanity. He gulps for air.
“You okay?”
“I c-c-can’t breathe.”
“Slow down,” Jensen says, his eyes softening. “Take it easy. You’ll be okay.”
“D-d-doesn’t feel like it.”
“Let me tell you something. You may not know this but you’re built like the others. That special juice you all have? It doesn’t stop with your brain. Your whole body is a muscle and if you work it, you’ll see results. Genetically superior results.” Casper rolls his eyes skeptically. “I’m serious. You all have a boost. All of you, just some things work better on one person than the other. That’s what the shots did. They amplified your personal traits and then boosted the hell out of the rest of your body.”
Jensen runs his hand through his hair.
“What I’m trying to say is that I know this is scary as shit for you, but you’ve got this. You’re as good as they are. You’ve just got to stop hiding.”
The lecture hits him hard, but he feels the clunkiness of his tongue and sees the skinniness of his legs and knows it’s mentor bullshit. The hand holding the tablet trembles and he focuses on the scene from Draco’s mask. It doesn’t matter whose mask he looks through, they’re all focused on one thing: Astrid.
He gets it. He only wants to watch her too. Has been for months, years. Is it creepy? Maybe, but he never meant it that way. He was hidden away. He had no one. She—via Atticus—was his only connection to the world. His world.
At first, he thought she was spoiled. Annoying. Dramatic and dumb in the clothes and hats and gloves. But he was just jealous. She had her demons under control while he hid away—protecting himself with four walls and technology. She learned to fight, how to use her body. She’s strong, and then when the others showed up she learned how to do the unthinkable—trust and love someone new.
Fuck fuck fuck he was jealous, of all of them.
A car slams on the brakes, nearly hitting Jensen’s car. He sighs and reaches under the seat for a blue light. “I held off as long as I could,” he says, opening the window and sticking it on top. The lights flash and are followed by the blip of a siren. They ease into the median and head toward the stadium entrance.
“W-w-will they let us in?”
The older man smirks. “They don’t have a choice.”
Casper glances at the screen, staring at Astrid once more. She’s huddled on the ground, the collar restrictive around her neck. If she’s scared, she doesn’t show it, and that’s what bothers him the most.
“H-h-hurry,” he says, feeling the need to get there faster. Get to her—them—faster.
No, Astrid doesn’t look scared. She looks resigned, and that’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Astrid
Even in the bowels of the basement, she can feel the crowd above. Thousands of feet tremble against the cement floors. Voices vibrate, absorbed into the walls, the beams, traveling through the stadium, making it feel alive. The energy is palpable. Excited. This is the kind of place she avoided her entire life. Too many people. Too much emotion.
Rowe left them down here to carry on with whatever nefarious plan he has set up. Public humiliation? Prison? More testing? It’s the stuff of nightmares, but she will not risk the lives of millions to save herself.
Rex sits on a metal chair, his foot bouncing up and down, and he peels the paper wrapper off a water bottle.
“You nervous?” she asks. She doesn’t remember him. Not really.
“Bored,” he says, wadding up a strip of the paper and tossing it in Owen’s face. It bounces off his forehead. Rage flares under the surface. “Ready to get this party started, you know?”
“Not really.” She bends her knees and then flattens them again. “So, what’s your story? Did you know we were alive? Did you care?”
“I didn’t know at first—not during those first few years.” He swallows and she catches a hit of a raw nerve. “Thought you probably died or you’d be with me and Blaze.”
“And where was that? Exactly?” The others don’t speak. They just watch this exchange carefully; the anger and distrust rolling off of them feels like a blast of heat.
Rex eyes her, taking in her face, her position. “It sure as hell wasn’t with some loving father-figure or a little mommy or auntie tending to my psychic wounds.”
“Then where?” He makes an annoyed face and she adds, “Look, we’re either all dying in the next hour or we’re going to be working together. Make nice. Tell us your story.”
Rex is handsome in a stone-cold kind of way. The lack of light in his eyes makes him dangerous. Chilling. He sizes her up for another minute and says, “I grew up in a mansion. Bigger than the place he lives in,” he points to Draco. “All marble and shiny floors. There were servants and a big pool in the backyard. A kitchen that was always stocked and beautiful gardens in the back.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Owen says. His house was nice but he lived in a rough neighborhood.
“Yeah,” Rex says, his voice dark and hard, “except I didn’t describe my mentor. Or the basement.”
Finally, an emotion—the first that’s cracked through his tough barrier since they met. Talking about the past haunts him. Whatever went on in there was bad. So bad, and she actually feels sorry for him.
“What happened in the basement?”
He doesn’t reply for a moment. His boot scuffs on the floor. Looking up at her, he says, “The tested me. Over a
nd over. I died a million times. Each time, I wanted it to be the last. Just not wake up. But they taught me how to use my strengths. How not to be afraid and do what needed to be done.”
She swallows around the weight of her collar and chooses her words carefully, “I’m sorry that happened to you. All of this sucks. We’ve been used and abused for so long and it sounds like what went on with you and Blaze really, really sucked.” She doesn’t dare look at the boys. “Maybe it’s time to put an end to it.”
She struggles to stand, using the wall for leverage. She doesn’t risk touching him but she can try to use her ability and pushes good stuff his way. Love, laughter, smiles around the dinner table at Rosalie’s. She digs in her own well of memories...using things like Atticus and Harry. Her team. The way she feels about them and their bond. He could be part of that—or could have. They’re tied, there is no denying that.
Except his barrier is too strong. The wall—as impenetrable as his skin.
“Let’s stop this. We don’t have to be pawns. We can just be people, Rex. People. Is that too much to ask?”
Rex’s eyes are glue to the floor and she think’s maybe, maybe he’s considering it, but she feels a flip in his emotions; the wall slams back up and a vicious curve lifts his lips.
“You think I regret my time at the mansion? My training?” He laughs but it’s bitter and dark. He reaches for Astrid, slipping his hand behind her neck. He pulls her close, right up to his body—his face. The men behind her tense and she will them to stand down. “You don’t get how much power I have. I’m not a pawn, Astrid. I don’t play superhero games; darting into burning buildings and waving at kids from parade floats. I’m not playing video games and fucking around with whatever friends with benefits kink you guys have going on. I’m a tool for powerful people—a powerful person—and I like my job.”
“You like being a terrorist?” Quinn asks.
He releases her and touches his collar, something that makes him look way more like a pet than he realizes, but there’s zero fear. No regrets. “My job is to get things done. Make shit happen, and if that involves blowing up a stadium of people, so be it. No skin off my back—literally. It won’t be the first time I’ve done it and it won’t be the last. I’m given a job. I do it. I get paid. I survive.”
“Jesus,” Owen says, “you may be more of a prick than Rowe.”
Rex laughs, his teeth white against his dark skin and the dimly lit room. A door out of sight opens and he says, quietly, “Speak of the devil,” and Rowe walks back in the room. He rubs his hands together, the detonator remote in his fingers.
“The game starts in ten minutes. We’ve got forty minutes until half-time and here is how this is going to happen.” He smiles gleefully. “When I say go, you’ll leave here and make your way to the field for half-time. If you don’t make it or do not show, you blow up. If you run away or try anything? You blow up. And if you try anything tricky, anything at all, and do not appear in the middle of that circle the minute the field clears…”
“We’ll blow up,” Quinn says. “We get it.”
“As a back-up, if you don’t follow directions and manage some sort of escape, then Rex blows up and I’ll hunt you down and you’ll really see what a prick I am.”
His words are chilling. Truthful. Not just a threat. And he smiles when they nod that they understand. “As promised, you get five minutes with your boy-toys. Don’t make me regret it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Astrid
The twins of pain and destruction, Rowe and Rex, leave the room. The clock is ticking and she feels the heightening excitement of the crowd above deep in her chest.
There’s no time to waste.
“This sucks,” she says, reaching for one of them—all of them. Quinn takes one hand. Owen takes the other and Draco stands quietly behind, gray eyes boring into hers.
“We’re not dying today,” Quinn says, looping his arm around her waist.
“No, but the life we’re going to have? I don’t want that.”
None of them do but they’re trapped, collared, literally by a ticking bomb. There’s no option but to comply.
“Well if this is our last few minutes together, on our terms, I know how I want to spend it,” Owen says, yanking her toward him. Quinn lets her go and she falls into Owen’s strong, lean arms. He doesn’t hesitate, when does he? His mouth crashes against hers. His lips move slowly, forcefully like he knows he may never get the chance again, and when her knees start to buckle he pulls back, breathless. “Thank you for everything, Astrid. You changed my life.”
Her hands shake at his words, at the daring expression on his face, but there’s little time to think because Quinn’s hands run down her arms and he pulls Astrid into his chest. She instantly feels safe against his body, protected, and he pushes a strand of hair over her ear. Leaning his forehead to hers, he says, “Be safe, Astrid Petta, do Atticus proud,” before kissing her nose, her cheeks, and one long, sensual, overwhelming kiss on the lips.
She steps away and her lovers give her a respectful distance. Now it’s just her and Draco. Tension ebbs between them. She searches his emotions but gets nothing but strength and focus and the desire to survive.
It’s not the time to push him, she thinks, knowing his shield will be up. But it’s too late anyway and the clock runs out. The door opens with a loud creak and it’s time to face their fate. Draco grabs her as the others move away. His grip is tight and his mouth is close to hers.
“If we get out of this, I’m not wasting my chance again, got it?”
She nods, cheeks flaming. “Got it.”
He walks away and she feels his intent in her soul. Astrid swallows and touches the bomb on her neck.
Damn, if she didn’t have a reason before, she does now. They’ll have to figure out a way to survive this night.
*
Rowe and Rex are gone when they exit the room. There’s nothing but a long ramp and when they get to the top, they’re in a swarm of people dressed in Crescent City red and gold or Glory City’s black and silver.
“Good luck,” she tells them. “See you on the field.”
They push through the crowd, searching for the field. Well, everyone but Astrid. She darts into a thick group outside a stall selling beer. A loud roar races through the stadium, so thunderous she has to plant her feet from the wave of energy. It’s so intense it’s like fighting through an emotional tsunami.
Spotting a small alcove, she dips in and presses her com.
“Casper,” she says, “I need you.”
She waits. No reply.
“Cas, seriously dude, where the fuck are you?”
Static buzzes in her ear and almost cries when his voice comes across, “I-I-I’m here.”
“Casper, thank god. We’re in a shit-storm.” She explains Rowe and the bombs and the parameters of their task.
“I’m w-w-with Jensen. Here. And I-I-I heard Rowe.”
She leans against the wall, trying to calm her heart and mind. She’s overwhelmed, scared, and has no idea what to do. This is what she tells Casper.
“Don’t w-w-w-worry, babe,” he says, and she almost laughs. Even now, he’s ridiculous. “I’ve g-g-got this.”
And he tells her his plan.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Quinn
Fuck.
He felt it the moment she slipped away. Owen too, because the blond frowns and shakes his head.
Draco is also long gone.
“So that agreement thing…bullshit, huh?” he asks, feeling conspicuous in his costume. At least his matches the team colors.
Owen throws up a shield, giving them a moment of privacy. He tugs at his collar with his free hand. “What are we going to do?”
“Fight back?” he has no idea how. The odds are too high. There’s too many people to clear the stadium. Too much of a risk to aggravate Rowe.
His com squawks before Owen can reply.
“Ch-ch-charger?”
&nb
sp; “Casper?” He mutters a prayer of thanks.
“Yeah, I n-n-need you to do something.”
“Anything, dude. We’re screwed.”
“L-l-look at this.” A blueprint pops up on the mask screen.
“Is that the collar?” Owen asks. He can see it too.
“I th-th-think I can shut down the bomb, but w-w-with your help.”
“Whatever you need. I’m ready,” Quinn replies.
“We both are,” Owen agrees.
“O-o-okay. I need you both on the upper level. Box l-l-level.”
“Can we get in?” Quinn asks.
Owen smiles. “I can get us in. Which box do we need to go to?”
“O-o-owners.”
They nod and Casper blinks out.
Over the seating entrance hangs a timer counting down the clock. They’ve got twenty minutes. “We better run.”
“Good thing I’ve been working out,” Owen says, dropping the shield.
Quinn laughs, feeling the bomb tighten around his throat. This may not work but at least they’re still fighting. “Winner gets to kiss Astrid first,” he says, dashing toward the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Astrid
The black uniformed Task Force members stand between Astrid and the owner’s box.
“Hello, boys,” she says, rounding the corner. Guns raise, but she’s been training her whole life for this moment. She’ll take them. Take them all. “I’d think first before shooting.” She touches the bomb. “One false move…”
The guns vanish and all four men attack. Astrid takes them head on, relying heavily on the tools in her belt. She darts and weaves, punches and kicks. She throws three pebbles down the hallway, each exploding into heavy puffs of smoke. The distraction helps her get ahead and she tosses the weighted cable attached to her hip, binding two together. Two more come after her and she hears a loud zap behind her. Turning, she finds Quinn holding his electrified baton in his hands. He hits both soldiers in the chest, dropping them fast.