Chapter 5

They ran toward the school building, the only cover available. The mercenaries were herding them, pushing them away from the parking lot, away from escape.

They burst through the rear doors of the gym hallway.

"The boiler room," Kade panted, holding his ribs. He had taken a grazing claw to the side during the sprint. "The tunnels lead to the drainage outflow. We can get to the river."

"Kade, look out!"

Vance was there. He had moved with Alpha speed, cutting them off near the trophy case where they had first reunited.

He didn't use a gun this time. He backhanded Kade with a fist that felt like a sledgehammer.

Kade flew backward, smashing into the glass case. Trophies rained down on him. Pain exploded in his skull.

He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't work.

Vance grabbed Elara by the hair. She screamed, slashing at his face with a knife she had pulled from her boot, but Vance caught her wrist and squeezed until she dropped it.

"A valiant effort," Vance sneered. He looked at Kade, lying broken in the shards of glass. "You were always a disappointment, 734. Too much empathy. It makes you weak."

Vance dragged Elara down the hall toward the maintenance elevator.

"No!" Kade croaked. He tried to shift, to force the change, but his body was too damaged. "Elara!"

"Kade, go!" Elara screamed back. "Don't come for me! Run!"

The elevator doors closed. She was gone.

Kade lay on the linoleum. The darkness pressed in. The silence returned.

*All Hope is Lost.*

He had failed her again. He was going to die here, a greasemonkey in a high school hallway, while the girl he loved was dragged back to hell.

*Weak,* his internal voice whispered. *Grumpy. Loner. Coward.*

Kade closed his eyes. He smelled the ash. He smelled the iron.

But he also smelled the rain. And the motor oil. And Elara.

He remembered the truck. *Be angry. Be useful.*

Kade opened his eyes. They weren't human eyes anymore. They were burning gold.

He forced his bones to knit. He forced his muscles to fire. He ignored the agony of the glass in his back.

He stood up.

He wasn't going to run. He wasn't going to hide under a car.

He picked up a heavy, jagged shard of glass from the broken trophy case. It was shaped like a spearhead.

"Class is dismissed," he growled.

He limped toward the maintenance elevator and pried the doors open with his bare hands. He looked down the shaft. The cables were vibrating.

He jumped.

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