James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - B2

Sixty-One

MAX

The city looked dead.

Buildings leaned like broken teeth. Smoke twisted out of every crack in the street, thick enough to sting my eyes and coat my tongue with the flavor of burnt metal and dust. Firelight flickered off shattered glass, giving the whole place a pulse—like the ruins were breathing, alive in the worst way.

And in the middle of it all floated Alexander, glowing like a smug little god.

His feet didn't touch the ground.
His arms hung loose at his sides, relaxed.
Violet veins pulsed across his skin like molten wires, lighting him from the inside out.

And that smirk—
that razor-sharp, condescending curve of his mouth—
It was aimed right at me.

"Your little cousin, Eli..." he said, voice smooth and cutting. "He's not just like me. He's better."

My stomach dropped.

"Faster. Stronger. Sharper. The real Prodigy." His eyes gleamed. "Not you."

Heat crawled up my spine.

"He's the future," Alexander finished. "You're a tantrum pretending to matter."

For a second—just one—I froze.

My hands tingled with power, violet sparks dancing across my fingers, but inside my chest something heavy sank, dragging me down like my ribs had turned to concrete.

Eli?
That little idiot who once tried to ride a shopping cart down a flight of stairs?
Better than me?

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or throw up.

Jealousy hit first.
Then rage.
Then something colder, darker—fear.

Alexander saw it.
Of course he did.
He lived to shove his fingers into wounds.

His smirk widened. "He'll surpass you without even trying. You're the warning label on the box. Eli's the real product."

My fists shook. For a moment—just a moment—I considered letting him have the brat. Let Eli see what 'chosen' really meant in Alexander's world.

Then Claire screamed.

The sound sliced through the smoke and fire like a blade.
High, raw, terrified.

She crumpled, grabbing her stomach, pain twisting her face. Sweat rolled down her cheeks.

My heart jerked.

She wasn't hurt.
She wasn't scared.

She was in labor.

Right now.
In the middle of a collapsing city.
In full view of a monster who'd done this on purpose.

"Max!" James's voice ripped through the chaos. "What are you doing?! Don't touch her!"

I turned toward him, slowly, letting violet sparks crawl lazily up my arms. My expression shifted into something cold, sharp, and annoyingly amused.

"Relax," I said, stretching the word just enough to sting.

James froze mid-step, confusion flickering in his glowing eyes.
But he wasn't stupid.
Not today, anyway.

He recognized the truth:

I wasn't here to hurt her.

Claire grabbed my arm, shaking. "Max... I can't... I can't—"

I caught her shoulders, still wearing my mocking grin, but my grip was solid, steady.

Alexander laughed—low, cruel, echoing over the wreckage. "You think switching sides changes anything? You're chaos. Nothing more."