Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I pivot. Shoot. Hit the second one in the shoulder.
He shrieks, a wet, tearing sound, as the impact sends him tumbling to the ground.
The first guy fires back, three shots in quick succession. Sparks rain off steel where they hit, ricocheting just past my arms. One grazes my bicep, a burning slice of fire.
“Riot!” Kelly cries from behind the door.
“I’m good,” I bark, ducking behind a metal ridge. “Don't move.”
The room explodes into chaos, footsteps, grunts, the smell of gunpowder and concrete dust.
The large attacker rushes me.
He thinks close combat is a good idea. He thinks size matters here.
He’s wrong on both counts.
He swings the knife, wide, sloppy.
I catch his wrist mid-arc, twist hard, and slam his hand into the wall. The blade clatters to the ground. He punches with his other hand, hammering into my ribs, but adrenaline numbs it.
I ram my forehead into his mask. He staggers. I press my advantage, driving two punches into his throat.
He wheezes. Crumples.
Behind me, the smaller attacker tries to stagger up, gun raised despite blood dripping down his arm.
I fire once.
His body goes still.
Heart still pounding, I scan the room. Just two. But footsteps overhead tell me more are coming. Three? Maybe four? Hard to tell with the storm pounding above.
My pulse spikes. Kelly.
“Kelly!” I call, low and sharp. “You okay?”
“Yes,” her voice trembles out. “Riot?”
“I’m here.” Always.
I check the attackers—gear, patches, weapons—looking for clues. Both wear the same symbol Looney pulled off that fabric scrap, a raven with a line of red paint slashed through the beak.
Bratok’s old mark. Reborn. Twisted.
A remnant that wants revenge.
But as I kneel beside the larger guy, I see something tucked against his vest. A folded paper. My stomach drops.
I rip it out, unfold it with shaking fingers.
Block letters. Bold. Spaced with intention.
YOU TOOK OUR KING. WE TAKE YOUR QUEEN.
My blood turns to ice.
Kelly.
A violent roar builds in my throat.
I crumple the note in my fist as a fresh wave of thunder rattles the structure.
And then I hear it—A soft, terrified gasp behind me.
I turn fast.
Kelly stands just outside the blast-barrier alcove. Gun still in her shaking hands. Eyes wide with horror.
She read the note.
“Kelly,” I start.
But she takes a step back. “Queen?” she whispers. “Riot, they meant me?”
My chest caves inward. “Sunshine, listen.”
“They’re coming for me because of you,” she chokes. “Because I matter to you.”
“Yeah,” I rasp. “You do.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “Then this is my fault.”
“No.” The word snaps out of me like a gunshot. “Don’t you ever say that.”
Her eyes glisten. “But they hurt me to hurt you. They almost killed me because they,”
“Because they know I’d burn the whole damn world for you,” I say, stepping toward her, voice shaking now for a whole different reason. “Not because you did anything wrong.”
She stares at me, breathless, broken, remembering something behind those eyes that I can’t see.
Then another sharp booming sound echoes above. Wood cracks. Metal groans.
Reinforcement is coming.
More men. More knives. More bullets.
I cover the distance to her in two strides and grab her face in both hands.
“Kelly, look at me.”
She does.
“You listen to me right now,” I whisper fiercely. “You remember this, with or without your memories.”
Her breath catches. “I choose you. I love you. Do you hear me? You aren’t alone. You don’t take on blame. You matter and they are the dumb fucks who want to use that in some power play. This isn’t on you. But mark my words, they will pay for what they took from you.”
* * *
She shivers under my hands. “I don’t—I can’t—”
“You can,” I say. “Because you’ve done it before. You fought for yourself. For your life. For us.”
Her lips part. “Us.”
Another memory hits her.
She staggers.
I catch her instantly.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “I remember, after we ended things, I walked away from you in the bakery. You didn’t chase me.”
I flinch.
“No,” I admit. “I was a coward.”
“And I cried in my car,” she says, voice breaking, “because I loved you and I didn’t know how to tell you without losing myself.”
My heart stops.
She remembers. Her words slam into me like a blow. Then the ceiling above us buckles—not fully, but enough to shower dust and metal fragments over the floor.
We both jump.
It snaps me back into motion.
I grab her hand. “We’re leaving. There’s a tunnel. It comes out near the old quarry. Move.”
“Riot,”
“Stay behind me,” I bark, already tugging her toward the hidden door behind the generator.
But before we reach it, the steel door at the top of the stairs begins to pound. Loud. Rhythmic. Intentional.
Kelly grips my arm.
“Riot, they’re breaking in.”
“I know,” I murmur.
“Are we safe?”
I turn, cup her face again, lean my forehead to hers, and breathe the truth she deserves:
“You’re safe.”
Thunder cracks above us, shaking the entire underground chamber.
Another blow hits the door. Then another. Metal bends.
Kelly’s breath stutters. My grip tightens.