I snort. “How do you plan to do that? You made me practically invincible. Any attempt to kill me won’t be fast enough. I’ll just heal.”
“Your body is equipped to heal from any injury, any attack from the outside. Gunshots, stabbings, broken bones. They all heal, with only the occasional scar.” He smiles. “Which is why you will be receiving a lethal injection first thing in the morning.”
Zandra is crying out and Zane is jumping to his feet but I am still. Because I knew if I failed to break Zane out tonight I would die, I knew if I continued to defy Richard Glass he would have me murdered.
I knew this was coming.
“You won’t find opposition so easy to get rid of,” I say, so calm, so strong. Glancing at Zane’s horrified expression and shaking hands, at Zandra’s stricken face and ready fists. “These experiments, all of the experiments, they’re not the broken dolls you make them out to be. You can’t control people by breaking them. There will always be someone to fight you.”
“Beautiful words for a dying girl.”
“I knew you would kill me if I didn’t escape tonight. The moment Dalton locked me up in the cage, I was a dead girl walking,” I say. “Kill me. It won’t change a thing.”
He nods to the soldiers, who drag both Zane and I to our feet. “Whether it fuels others’ need to fight or destroys what little resolve they could have left, it does not matter.
“Tomorrow morning, you die.”
Fifty-Three
One night to live.
One night to breathe. One night to see, taste, touch. One night to dance and to fight.
One night to love.
The soldiers throw us back into the cage. Zane stumbles in and I catch myself on the wall for balance.
Cold blue eyes meet burning gold eyes and we’re staring at each other. Because this is all we get. This one night, this one chance, this one moment.
I can’t take it.
Throwing myself forward, feeling his arms pull me against him, knotting my fingers in his hair, I kiss him. Deep, strong, passionate. And he kisses me back with more intensity than I think anyone could hold.
You should never have come back. He’s running his hand across my cheek. You shouldn’t be here. Agony in those eyes. I’m sorry.
I put my hand over his, hold it to my cheek. “Don’t be sorry about things you can’t change,” I whisper.
He crushes me to his chest. I slide my arms around his neck. This is it. My last night. My final moments. This is all I get.
“Kate?”
I turn, keep hold of Zane’s hand, keep hold of at least this small part of him, and look at a desolate-faced Zandra.
I smile, go to the cage’s edge. “I never thanked you. For saving me last time.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does,” I say. “You gave me a chance to change. Being a crime fighter, saving Chicago, it changed me. I’m a better person now. I’m going to die The Black Kat, not the selfish Kate McCallister.”
Zandra looks down. “But it’s over. He’s going to win.”
“No.” Hard eyes and a harder jaw. “You can’t let him.” I look at Zandra, look at Zane. “You have to fight. Zane, I know you don’t think you can but if you and Zandra don’t, no one will. He’ll destroy Chicago.”
I know. Zane’s smile is sad and weak and broken. He’s not getting away with anything, Kate. Zandra and I will get out of here, find a way to stop him.
“You’re not going to die for nothing,” Zandra whispers.
“Thank you.” I look at Zane. “I need you to do something for me. Find my mother, tell her what really happened. She has a right to know now.”
Zane nods. I promise.
Zandra steps back. “I have to go before they know I’ve been talking to you. Thank you, Kate. Thank you for being my hero.”
And that’s it. She’s gone. Flitting off on bat wings, flying down steel hallways.
I look at Zane. He touches my chin. You have the bravest, most beautiful soul of anyone I’ve ever met, Kate McCallister.
I step close, press my forehead against his. “I’m sending two people into battle alone.”
I wasn’t always a coward, Kate. I will save Chicago. For you.
I press myself close. “Zane,” I whisper. “Give me tonight. Give me a reason to be brave.”
He takes my face in his hands. Be brave, Kate. Because your life mattered. You made a difference. Bigger than anyone else made.
Then he kisses me. Hard, strong.
I feel brave, I think. I feel brave enough to die for what I believe.
Fifty-Four
My bravery does not desert me.
Not when I can hear footsteps in the morning, not when I can see the door sliding open, not when I see Dalton standing there with a smirk.
I kiss Zane hard. “You don’t have to be broken anymore,” I whisper. “Find Zandra, get out of here, stop him.”
Dalton grabs hold of me, drags me out of the cage. I keep my eyes on Zane.
Say it. Tell him. Be honest. Say it.
The cage door shuts. And I break free of Dalton’s grasp for just a minute, just long enough to run up to the cage bars, just long enough to feel Zane’s fingers on my chin one last time, just long enough to say three words.
“I love you.”
Dalton grabs me again, dragging me down the hall more forcefully. Hands locked around my arms. Lifting me off the ground. Carrying me into another room.
I keep my eyes on Zane until I can’t see him anymore. Goodbye. Thank you. I love you.
Stop in the room. Three soldiers leaning against the wall. Two holding an upset Zandra by the arms. Pelletier standing by the gurney with a syringe in hand.
I step forward, lay back on the gurney. Zandra makes a sound and I give her a weak smile. “Be brave, Zandra Glass,” I whisper.
Pelletier steps forward, brushes my hair away from my neck, and I close my eyes. Draw my last breath.
I can feel the needle go into my skin. Sharp pain and then it’s over. My body is sinking into unconsciousness and I think this can’t be a bad way to go. So painless, so simple.
“Be brave.”
Black overtakes me.
Zandra
“The Black Kat, formerly known as Katherine McCallister, is dead. Her body will be dumped in secret.”
-Dr. Pelletier’s notes
Fifty-Five
Her body goes slack, head lolling to the side, hand slipping off the gurney.
I put a hand over my mouth, fight tears with a painful sound. Because she’s dead, because she’s gone, because the girl I fought to get out of this place, the girl I got tortured for, has been murdered right before my eyes.
Be brave, Zandra Glass.
I stop. Drop my hand. Because I think I understand now. What it means to be brave. Don’t step aside, don’t let desolation be a part of reality, fight every injustice. No matter the cost.
And now I realize how much I needed Kate McCallister.
I thought the electric whip would be my chance. But it always her. The Black Kat is my whip. My salvation. Coated in the steel of her bravery, entwined with the powerful electricity that is her fire. She is power and strength and she’s dead but she’s not gone.
Because Kate McCallister taught me how to be brave. And she’s taught me what it’s going to take to stop Richard Glass.
I will do it. I have nothing left to lose.
Zane
“Zane Rothstein, Project Two, seems to have slipped further into his insanity. Still talks to himself.”
-Dr. Pelletier’s notes
Fifty-Six
Agony rips through me.
It’s a physical pain. A physical ache. Like someone drove a knife through my heart, a bullet through my head, poison in my lungs. Nothing I’ve ever felt can compare.
For her. For Kate McCallister. The Black Kat. All this pain, aching, agony. It’s all for her.
I stare up at the ceiling. Fight tears, fight an
ger, fight the pain. Because she’s dead, because she died willingly, because she died as bravely as Misti did.
You just can’t stop getting girls killed, can you?
Ignore her. Ignore it. Ignore the hallucination. Misti is dead. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.
I close my eyes, turn away from the ghost of Misti Fort, try to ignore the madness I have created for myself, try not to see the dry blood running down her skull.
You should have fought harder.
No. No, no, no. Not her, too. Not another one.
I turn, see the pale corpse of Kate McCallister, see her furious expression, see her burning eyes.
Not real. Not here. Not her. A hallucination. A figment of my imagination.
“I couldn’t save you. Either of you.”
Hallucination-Kate turns cold. You never tried.
I turn away, face the wall, rest my head against cool steel, try to stay in control, try to stay human, try to stay sane.
“Zane.”
Relief. Misti and Kate are gone. No more hallucinations, no more ghosts. Just Zandra standing on the other side of the cage.
Zandra.
“It’s done,” she whispers. “She’s dead.”
I run my hands through my hair, turn away. I won’t make her see a grown man cry.
Kate. Gone. Dead. Murdered.
I stop, turn back. The cage door is open and Zandra is dropping the key, letting it clatter on the floor. Her expression is harder, angrier than I have ever seen it.
“That’s the last time I let him decide who has to die and who gets to live.”
I step forward, glance down. And see the black mask on the floor. Kate’s mask. I stoop down, pick it up. Stare at it.
…not the broken dolls you make them out to be…
I understand.
I was never broken, I think. Because right now I feel fire in my bones and anger in my limbs. Not explosive fury that changes me from man to monster. But the kind of anger that drove me to stop injustice as a field agent for The Dragon.
I am not broken.
I step out of the cage. Shake my head. You resourceful little rebel. I pause, glance down the hall. Zandra. Will you show me her body? We have to get out of here. But I need some kind of closure.
Zandra nods, sad, solemn. “Follow me.”
We run down steel corridors, listening for soldiers, watching for enemies.
And then we stop.
Ten soldiers in the hallway. They knew. They knew I escaped, they knew Zandra helped me.
I growl. No. They are not taking me back to the cage, they are not breaking me again, they are not stopping us.
Lunging forward, I swing a fist. Knock down the first man, hitting him too hard to leave him standing.
I stop, feel a gun at my back. Grit my teeth. I don’t have time for this. I put my hands up slowly, not sure what I’m intending to do.
And then a furious roar fills the air.
I’d recognize the sound anywhere. A glance to the left and I can see the giant grizzly bear standing up on its hind legs, swiping several guards with one paw.
There’s a lithe woman right behind him, yanking a guard toward her, spitting on him. He crumples, paralyzed with poison.
Jayden and Tatyana.
A soldier lunges for Zandra, gun aimed, and I tense, ready to defend her, ready to intercede, ready to take a bullet if necessary. But she handles him on her own.
She unfolds her wings, revealing the whip tucked at her side, hidden under a large bat wing. She snaps the whip at the soldier, sending a jolt through him, knocking him to the ground with a scream.
Bravery is a funny thing, I think. Because I thought it was gone, I thought I couldn’t be reckless anymore. I thought these feelings were gone. But that need to stop injustice, that desire to feel adrenaline, is back.
I turn to the remaining soldiers, lunge forward. And, for the first time, I let my anger out willingly.
Mid-lunge, my body tears itself apart, replacing humanity with wolf. A growl rips through my throat as I knock one of the men to the ground.
Bizarre. I feel so human, so in control. A human trapped in a wolf’s body. And I have never felt this kind of composure as a monster before.
The others fight with me and every soldier is unconscious within moments, bodies scattered across steel floors.
I look at Zandra. Lead the way.
We start running and Tatyana runs beside me, the Jayden-bear just behind us.
“Where’s Kate?” Tatyana asks.
I set my jaw and Zandra glances back, flitting into the air. “Glass had her killed.” Her voice cracks. “It’s just the three of us now.”
“Blin,” Tatyana mutters, shaking her head. She starts muttering in Russian, words quick and sharp and angry.
I face forward and we start to run again.
Hurry. Find her. Prepare for the war you’re starting.
We stop and Zandra leads the way into a room, biting her lip, giving me a look that asks if I’m sure I want to do this.
I take a deep breath, nod, step into the room. And see her body.
Laid out on a gurney. Eyes closed. Cheek pressed against the cold steel table beneath her. An arm hanging off the edge of the table. She looks peaceful.
This is not how I want Kate McCallister to ever look.
She was not a peaceful soul. She had this sort of graceful ferocity, a way of being beautiful and ferocious at the same time. She was angry and stubborn and rude and on fire. This is not how I want to remember her.
Cold. Empty. Numb.
I walk over to the table. Reaching its side, standing beside her body, letting it truly become real, I
BREAK.
I lift her body into my arms, cradling her close, pressing a hand on her cold cheek, crushing her lifeless body to my chest.
She was a graceful person and the world lost her when it needed her the most.
It is the greatest injustice ever done.
I hold her for another moment, let it sink, let it be real, let it be painful.
And then I set her back down on the table. Soldiers will come looking soon, they’ll come to take her body soon. I am out of time.
I lean down, press a kiss to her icy forehead. And use my voice for the first time in almost two years.
“I loved you too, Kate McCallister,” I whisper, voice coming out strangled from so many months of complete silence but still just barely audible.
I look at Zandra. There are tears in her eyes and she turns to the door.
I glance down at the corpse on the gurney one last time. I have to leave her here. I have to avenge her. I have to keep my promise to her.
It’s time to bring Richard Glass down.
Once and for all.
Kate
“There has been a breach in Glass Tech. Mr. Glass has left the building. Things are changing.”
-Dr. Pelletier’s notes
Fifty-Seven
I’m not dead.
I’m breathing.
I gasp, cough, spit out red. Back arching, eyes fluttering, body heaving. I roll off the gurney, onto my feet.
I’m alive.
I laugh. Touch my lips. Run fingers through black hair. I survived lethal injection.
My heart is asking all kinds of questions. Am I sure? Positive. How? No idea. Why? Why does it matter?
I loved you too, Kate McCallister.
Words echoing through my head, reverberating through my memory. Zane. He must have come here. When I was still dead. I don’t remember those words, I don’t remember him being here. But I must have heard him.
Which means I heard his voice. For the first time. Which means he used it. For me.
Not a moment to waste. I turn toward the door. Smile wryly. “Oh, Zane,” I whisper, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Run out the door, sprint across steel. It’s time, I think, to fight the war I started.
There are obstacles.
&nbs
p; I stop and he does too. Dalton looks me up and down, bewilderment on his lips, genuine surprise in his eyes. “You’re not dead.”
Sarcasm comes too easy.
I pat myself down, dramatically staring at him. “And here I was thinking I was a ghost or something.”
Dalton scowls. I grin. Strong, powerful, alive. There’s something dangerous about death. You die once and it no longer scares you. Nothing does.
“You wish I was dead, don’t you?” I say, honey dripping off my tongue. “It would be easier if I was.”
Dalton growls. Human. Not at all intimidating.
I bare my teeth, roar. Significantly more impressive.
He jumps forward, intending to barrel into me, intending to knock me to the ground, intending to pin me down. But he doesn’t know how high I can jump.
I throw myself up, jump over him, let my foot catch on his skull, push him to ground. I land behind him, standing tall, with a smirk on my lips.
He lunges again and I duck under him, sprinting across the hall, leaning against the wall. He glares, I wink. “Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault you’re so slow.”
I’m cocky. My downfall. Always my downfall. Fighting anyone else, I could afford it. I could afford to be sassy. But not with Dalton, not with a man who understands how to change who I am, not with a man who could break my body in half. I should be focusing on beating him. Not on making him angry.
But I’m not that wise.
He lunges forward in my cocky, distracted state. And throws me to the ground.
Hard. Too hard. Hard enough to knock the air out of my body, hard enough to keep me on the ground, hard enough to make me too slow.
He pins me to the ground. Shoves my wrists against the floor with his knees. Pulls out a knife from his pocket.
I grimace. I will heal. But it’s going to hurt before it does.
He takes the knife, yanks the sleeve of my shirt up. And digs the blade into my skin.
Don’t scream. Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream.
He starts twisting the blade around, carving words in my skin.
The Invincibles (Book 1): Trapped: A girl. A monster. A hero. Page 21