Fury and Flame | 3

5 | 4

D E L P H I N I U M

I sat alone in the hideout with Riley—Kane had left to seek out first aid supplies for her and Jake, as usual, was nowhere to be seen. We'd been talking to pass the time—and to distract her from the pain that was obviously racking through her body, if her white face and clenched jaw was any indication.

"How do you people live through this?" She asked, eyes squinted in pain. "You all make it look like it's nothing. But my insides feel like they're being rearranged. And not in a good way."

I gave a dry chuckle. "You get used to it when it becomes more common than a civilized conversation."

She made a face. "I'd rather not get used to it."

"You might, if you'd seen the look on Kane's face when he first brought you here."

"What good is in having pretty boys fawn over you if you're dead?" Dramatically throwing her head back against the back of the chair, her grip on her side tightened. But then she said, "I'll be sure to live through this just so I can tease him for his worry."

I opened my mouth to reply, but a thunderous rumbling in the distance silenced me. As the building shook, Riley's eyes fluttered open in surprise. I left her side to look out the window over the table; it had the best view of the city. And there, in the distant midst of the maze-like series of alleyways and suspicious-looking buildings, was a small mushroom cloud billowing out in the blue sky.

"What was it?" Riley managed to get out; her wound was hurting her badly now that the nearby explosion had jostled her in the chair.

Eyes glued to the dissipating smoke, I answered, "Trouble." Turning away, I checked that I was armed with all my knives. "I'm going to check on it. Don't go anywhere."

She grunted at my order. "Come back alive. And unharmed, preferably. It's bad enough that one of us is on her deathbed."

I scoffed and stepped through the doorway, throwing up my hood to conceal my identity in the daylight. I'd be right back to watch over Riley again; I just needed to be sure it wasn't one of our teammates in danger.

To be frank, I wasn't quite sure why I wasn't as fearful as usual. I was walking directly into danger. But I hadn't forgotten the fiasco at the Hydrocarbon Petromensium factory; I didn't want to lie dormant while my teammates fought for my wellbeing.

So I stalked down the alleyways, daggers in my palms. Normally, I would have walked along the rooftops and surveyed from above, but it was daytime and I was more likely to be spotted. If I hid myself well in the network of alleyways, I'd be protected. I was on edge nonetheless.

     I hesitated to even breathe, wanting to hear every little movement around me to the best of my ability. I stopped walking. Something deep inside me told me to.

     And then I heard it: footsteps. More than one pair. They were approaching rapidly and were slightly off-beat, like the people were hasty. Soldiers? Maybe.

     I willed myself to be stone and flicked my knives down, preparing to meet the approachers head-on. If it was the soldiers, I'd make them sorry they'd ever come near. My power welled up in me as I turned the corner.

     But it was not the ONNT soldiers. No, it was someone much worse.

     Gigi.

     For a split second, I just took her in—the torn ONNT-issued clothing she wore, her bow and arrows slung over her back, hair knotted and gnarled around her delicate face. The face that sometimes haunted my nightmares, the face that was twisted with rage as she destroyed me from the inside.