Rogues
Date: 2018-04-25 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Fantasy
Description: Astrid and her team of genetically superior vigilantes keep fighting for the truth, their city and for one another. The third book in this exciting series where superhero meets romance with a reverse harem twist!

Rogues:

The Supers of Project 12

Book 3

By

Angel Lawson

Before

Face pale from the blue light of the computer, Cedric’s eyes never moved from the screens. He’d spent a week working to get through the firewall of Project 12, then another three days hacking into whoever was spying on them—an offshoot of the government. Not military. Not CIA. Something different. Secret. Lies upon lies upon lies seemed to be what the project was based on. Twelve kids, twelve different abilities, twelve doctors, and one common goal.

Pushing these kids to the limits.

Cedric knew computers. He knew them intimately. Intuitively. He knew the first time he saw one on his father’s desk and when he grabbed the smartphone out of his mother’s hand because it called—no, spoke—to him.

He understood that the computers had brains. They calculated and programmed and built and destroyed. Cedric could do those things, too. How? He hadn’t quite figured that out. The doctor seemed to want to know, too.

He has six monitors around the room. His doctor gave them to him. Some are for them to track his abilities. Another is for gaming—he’s super into an RPG right now; in fact, he hears the crackle of a teammate over the headphones by the computer across the room. They call his code name: Casper. Shit, he thinks, glancing at the clock. He was supposed to be in the game fifteen minutes ago, but he got this alert.

An alert for what?

The laptop hooked up next to the desktop pings and a new series of information fills the screen. He’d been following a trail of cryptic messages between servers for the past twenty-four hours. Something big. The data is filed under the name Operation Blackout.

Another screen pops up and the schematics—blueprints of an object—appear.

“What the heck are you?” he says to himself, looking at the round ball. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was a new design for a Star Wars movie. A smaller version of the Death Star. Round with multiple layers. He scans the code with his eyes and closes them, replaying them back in his head.

Yeah, his brain works faster than a computer, too.

The numbers translate into coordinates—map coordinates, and Cedric’s eyes pop open the second he realizes what they are.

“Sh, sh, sh…it,” he mutters and hops out of his seat. His language is trash. Too much time on the forums and playing video games. “Fuck.”

A timer pops up under the blueprint and immediately begins counting down. Five minutes.

Five minutes.

He yanks the laptop off the desk, dragging the cord behind him. He grabs a few photos off his dresser mirror and opens his bedroom door. He’s never spoken in this house before. Never engaged with the other children. His life is online, his friends, his communities, his games, but now that he understands what is happening—what is coming—he knows it’s time to break the silence.

Taking a deep breath, he fights against his body and shouts, “Ev…ev…ev..everybody g…g..get out! The house is gonna blow!”

Chapter One

Astrid

The sound catches her attention first; footsteps pounding on the track. Then the smell of sweat, covering the familiar scent of roses. She watches from above, using the observation deck just over the gym floor. He stops when he crosses the mile marker, eyes darting to the timer on the wall.

“He shaved off six seconds,” she says, marking it on her clipboard.

“Is that enough?”

“If he can do the rest.”

Owen moves to the next rotation—he has no idea he’s being tested. Astrid just gave him a circuit to work through on this bright and cold winter morning. With Mick spotting him, he goes through a series of weights, obstacles, and cardio. She ticks each off the list, giving him a score next to each one.

Quinn looks over and shakes his head at her Big Slurp-sized drink she’s guzzling through a red straw. “I thought you were cutting back on the caffeine and sugar.”

“I am.”

“It’s eight a.m. and that is like, 64 ounces.”

She holds it up and says, “Taste it.”

“Don’t make me.”

“No seriously, try it.”

He’s hesitant but takes a small sip through the straw. He makes a terrible face. “What the fuck is that?”

“A new drink mixture. Half lemonade, half Mountain Dew.”

“It tastes like piss.”

She laughs. “How would you know?”

“Just a guess. And how is that any better?”

“Less caffeine, duh.”

“There are tests with artificial sweeteners in rats that—”

She holds up her hand. “Don’t.”

He gives up the argument—he should, she’ll never concede fully on her vices—and takes the clipboard from her. He studies the paper, counting the numbers under his breath.

Quinn is handsome when he’s thinking. He’s handsome all the time. He carries deep intensity in everything he does, from harassing her about her food choices to having her back on the streets. She takes in his blue eyes, dark hair, and every other perfect part of his body before steadying herself and looking back to the floor. “If he can unarm Mick in thirty seconds, he’s in.”

Owen takes a short break before he gets in the ring. He drinks half a bottle of water and wipes the sweat off his face. His cheeks are red but he’s not overwhelmed. This part of the test will be the hardest for him. It’s based on simple skill—he’s not allowed to use his abilities in any way. He has to out-match Mick by getting the fake gun out of his hands using nothing but speed, reflexes and hand-to-hand combat. If he fails, this will be the moment.

The two men enter the ring. Owen is smaller than Mick, but he’s lithe and strong. Newly developed muscles cord his back and curve down his shoulders to his arms. Physicality wasn’t a big deal for him before they brought him in, but it’s important if you’re going to be part of the team.

Astrid gets a peek of his lower abs and the dimples in his lower back and knows there are other, personal, perks to his increased strength as well.

The men face one another and the timer starts. The red numbers flash by and they jump into full contact. Mick takes the first swing, jabbing Owen in the ribs with his elbow, but he goes with it, swinging around his back, grabbing Mick’s arm and twisting it backwards. He nails him in the back of the knees, dropping him to the ground, the whole time keeping his hand wrapped tightly around the hand with the gun. Two more hits to the arm holding the weapon forces Mick to drop and Owen scoops it up, turning the tables.

The buzzer rings.

A smile breaks across Owen’s face. It matches her own and she and Quinn high-five.

“He passed,” her partner says, shaking his head. “He’s going to be furious when you tell him.”

“I’m expecting a meltdown of epic proportions.”

“Good luck with that.” He walks to the observation deck floor. She’ll need to go down and tell Owen soon that his training with the recruits starts tomorrow. Training he has no idea Astrid’s signing him up for.

“You’re not coming with me?”

“Nope. Your idea, you get the pleasure of the fallout.” He pauses and comes back over. “I can give you a kiss for luck.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t fight when he slips his arm around her back and pulls her against his hard body. His kiss is perfection, firm but soft, and she feels it down in her toes. When he releases her, she fights the wobble in her knees and looks back down at Owen, pretending the man doesn’t affect her so much.

“He’ll get over it,” she says, unconvincingly. “Things have changed for us and we’re all going to have to do things we don’t want to in order to keep the city and ourselves safe.”

“You think he’ll buy that?”

She shakes her head, knowing it’s going to take more than inspirational speeches to convince Owen to join the recruits.

*

“Hell no.”

“Come on, it’s important. I need you to do this.”

He strips off his shirt and walks past her. She can’t help but stare at his body. Two bruises form on his ribs from the hit he took from Mick. They’ll heal quickly—it’s part of the deal with their jacked-up bodies. But that’s not why she’s staring. He’s leaned out even more over the last few weeks and the ladder of muscle up his abdomen is crazy defined. Owen is hot. Stone-cold hot.

He leans against the bathroom counter, crossing his arms over his chest. His blond hair flops in his eyes. They’re in the private locker room off the main office.

“You want me to infiltrate a secret government program.”

“I want you to enroll as one of my recruits. Most don’t make it into Jensen’s program but you can at least make some connections—listen for gossip or actual intel.”

His jaw clenches. “Jensen is looking for me. Specifically. And you think it’s a good idea to flaunt myself in front of him?”

“Of course not, you have the ability to shield and disguise yourself.”

He snorts. “I’m not one of your standard beef-heads that rolls through your program, Astrid. I’m one of the punks the task force is taking off the streets. I’ve seen your recruits. They want this. They hunger for it. Quinn could maybe pull it off. He has the right intensity.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “There’s a reason Demetria dubbed me Pan.”

“Peter Pan was a shit-stirring troublemaker. He led a group of boys into war, bested the evil Captain Hook, and had three women in love with him. Don’t act like you can’t do this.”

His smile falters and he reaches one of his long arms for her, hooking his fingers around the stretchy waistband of her leggings. The backs of his fingers graze her stomach and a burst of butterflies wreaks havoc in her belly. She watches his eyes as she allows herself to be pulled close to him. His eyelashes are dark and thick, his green eyes mesmerizing. She’s never sure if it’s the actual color or part of the tricks he can play. Most men aren’t this pretty.

“Is this a tit-for-tat situation? I concede on this and you owe me later?”

“Depends on the terms.”

“Hmmm.” He rubs his chin. “How about I join your program and when the time comes, I get to ask a favor from you.”

She narrows her eyes and feels the sweat of his body coming through her shirt. “Is this your way of getting me to do something freaky in bed?”

“I don’t think it’s going to take much convincing to get you to do freaky shit anywhere, babe.” He rolls his eyes. “But no. I’m not about bartering for sexual favors. I want that shit to be real.”

“Then what?”

He shrugs. “I’ll let you know at the time.”

She’s not a fan of being in the dark, but she knew he’d be a hard sell on the project. Any concession is a good one, even if it means she’s on the hook for some kind of Owen whim in the future. “Fine, but don’t be a dick about it.”

He smiles and dips his head to hers, taking her mouth in hard, salty kiss. She doesn’t fight back because she loves this—loves the feel of him—and he deserves a reward for passing that test.

“What is that?” he asks, licking her lips. “Lemon?”

She laughs. “My new drink. I’m trying to appease Quinn.”

He grunts and reaches for her again; there’s no doubt from the shift under his shorts, he’s ready to take this further. She’s ready too and grips the hard muscle of his hips. The next kiss is stopped by the buzzer on her watch. “Fuuuuuck. What’s that about?”

“Meeting with Draco.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name. “Skip it.”

She shakes her head and gives an apologetic smile. “Can’t. It’s about Casper.”

Casper. The one thing they all agree on.

He kisses her once more. “Okay. Go. We’ll discuss these terms further later.”

“Got it.” She squeezes his hand with her gloved ones. “Thanks for joining the program. I really do appreciate it.”

“I know, and I’ll do my best.”

She has no doubt. They’re a team and working together is their biggest asset. Which is why she’s on her way to Draco’s. They need Casper back and whole. She’s just not sure how long it’s going to take.

Chapter Two

Astrid

She’s pulling out of the garage when the phone rings. It’s Jensen, and if she expected pleasantries, she’s not getting them.

“Can we meet?”

“Yeah,” she says, easing her Jeep into the street. “I just left the gym. I have a little bit of time before my next appointment.”

“Come to my office—it won’t take long.”

She stares at the phone after he hangs up and mutters to herself, “Yeah, this can’t be good.”

Jensen’s office is about twenty miles away, just outside the city. It’s a big building—governmental, boxy with few windows and non-descript. She and Atticus used to come out here to handle recruit details, but this is the first time since her mentor’s death and she’s uneasy.

The guard checks her ID and gives her a pass and she parks in the lot most familiar to her. At the front desk, she waits for Jensen to come out. She’s not sure who to expect; the man she’s known her whole life, or the director of the mayor’s task force. Relief washes over her when the former appears with a smile on his face and arms open for a hug.

“I think I know why you usually come to me,” she says, going through a second set of security. “This place is a pain in the ass to get into.”

“When you’re doing the kind of work we are, it pays to be safe.”

Astrid knows some of what happens in this building. The recruits that she trains at her gym end up here where they are pushed deeper, further into specialized training. Here, they learn how to use tactical weapons, explosives, and special skills to take down specific, dangerous groups of people. What she knows now is that she and her team are considered one of these groups. And although she and Jensen have danced around the obvious for weeks, if not months, it’s time to lay it all on the table.

His office is five levels up and through six more security guards. They pass a receptionist and enter the solid wood door that closes behind him. There are no windows and few decorations other than framed awards and certificates.

He directs her away from his desk to one of two cushiony chairs with a small table between them. On the table is a copy of the Crescent City Ledger, the city paper. The headline in bold: Can the Mayor’s Task Force Work?

Jensen nudges the paper with his hand. “Mayor Steed has some high demands.”

“I’m sure.”

He sits across from her. “Astrid there’s something we need to talk about. Just you and me. Clear the air.”

“Okay, I’ve been expecting this.”

“Atticus was my best friend. He was a powerful ally in the programs we have going at the agency. The recruits that come through Elite are some of the best agents in the world.”

“He was good at his job. He believed in it.”

“He did, and I believed in him, even when he started his side project—the one with you.” He gives her a tight grin. “I knew you back when you were a little runt in cat ears, rain boots, and gloves. I accepted Atticus’s explanation about sensory issues and PTSD from losing your parents. I supported his decision to help you by making you stronger—more confident and capable. I tried not to judge when he encouraged the crazy outfits and borderline vigilantism. Hell, you know me, I was part of it. I was there when you took down that building with the Pixie Dust. I’m complicit.”

“Get to the point, Jensen.”

“When it was just you out there I was okay with it. Atticus kept me close and we worked together, but since his death things have changed. You’ve cut me out and gained two more partners.” He eyes her carefully. “Dangerous partners.”

“They’re no more dangerous than I am.”

As far as Astrid knows, Jensen is unaware of the Project 12 side of Astrid’s background. He doesn’t know what Atticus and Holden had planned all along. The relationship with Casper and the building of a larger, more organized group. It was never her mentor’s intention for it just to be her out there. He’d planned for the day when they all would come together and combine their gifts and abilities.

“What can you tell me about Demetria Holmes?”

Is that what this is about? She doesn’t think so, but she plays along anyway.

“No more than you know.”

“She’s not a friend of yours? Because I saw you up on that float.”

“After the Gala, I became aware of the threat that Demetria posed on the community. I secured a spot on her float to keep an eye on her. I had no idea what she had planned.”

He nods. “How did she do that? Make the dragon?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know but I think she’s in the right place, a mental facility, and you’re definitely on target about something else: she’s incredibly dangerous.”

“But you don’t think your friends are dangerous? They show up and trouble seems to happen.”

“Atticus knew these people. He wanted them out there with me. Do you think he’d put me at risk?”

He knows the answer to that and it’s hard for him to swallow; even so, this doesn’t cut through the real reason she’s here: the Mayor and his Task Force.

“You’re an adult and I trust you to make your own decisions about who you bring into your life, but that’s personally. Professionally, I have to let you know that the Mayor is serious about this Task Force. Any and all vigilantism has to stop. I’m required to turn over anyone interfering with the police or anyone with suspicious behavior.” She understands his meaning. Anyone with unexplained skills or gifts.

“What if we stay out of the way?” After Blaze and Demetria, and frankly, even the appearance of Draco, she’s not willing to walk off the streets yet. What is his task force going to do if they come up against a man who can throw fire? Her recruits are good but they’re not supernatural. And that’s the difference.

Jensen rests his elbows on his thighs and looks her in the eye. “I’m telling you, it stops now.”

“Or what?”

“Or I can’t help you.” The look he gives her is kind. Empathetic. “Don’t make me come after you, Astrid. You’re my family. But I took an oath when I accepted this job. To take care of the people.”

She holds his eye and juts her chin forward. “Do what you have to do, Jensen. I won’t blame you.”

“So you’re refusing?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll consider it, but I need something in return.”

“Go on.”

“One of my men, I know you’ve been watching him.”

He nods. “The drug dealer.”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s not a drug dealer. But yeah, take him off your list. It’s under control.”

“We think he may have murdered a woman.”

“He didn’t.” He gives her an uneasy, skeptical look. “Seriously, he didn’t. If you need to know the truth, whoever killed his aunt most likely also killed Atticus. You’re looking in the wrong direction.”

That news gets him to back off. “Okay, I’ll remove him from my official list of suspects, but you have to stay off the streets.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I won’t abandon the people in my community.” He sighs and she adds, “If something big happens, don’t expect me to stand back. You never would have stopped Demetria without us.”

The words hang in the room. The truth. Jensen may have manpower, weapons, and the backing of the city, but she and her team have something else—real power, and from the crease on his forehead, that’s exactly what he’s afraid of.

Chapter Three

Astrid

Draco’s office is unchanged since the last time she was there. The same photographs of his travels with his mentor. The huge screen behind the desk. The view of the city below the mansion takes up one wall of the room. One difference is the stack of papers on his desk. He’s taken over the CEO position at WIND-E, even if it’s just as a figurehead. Demetria trusted this man. That alone makes Astrid reconsider this arrangement.

“So,” she asks from her spot in the leather chair, “how’s the life of a CEO?”

“Not as interesting as you’d think,” he replies, smoothing his silk tie. His shirt is a crisp, starched white and contrasts nicely against his black pants that fit perfectly to his body.

His file back at the Lair describes his ability as Peak Human Condition. Basically, he’s strong, fast, and agile. He heals quickly and can take pounding by any enemy. He entered Project 12 as a perfect human specimen. Their medicine? It accentuated everything; his muscles, his bones, his extreme sense of morality. From all accounts, Draco is loyal, honest, and forthright.

Everything about him makes Astrid want to corrupt him. She’d like to drag him back to the Lair and dirty his hands with their fledgling superhero venture. Sully his face on a wanted sign by the police. Then she’d like to take him to bed and test what peak condition means in a dozen different positions.

It doesn’t matter if she takes off her gloves or not. Astrid knows Draco’s heart. He’s pure and he’s off limits. Not just because he’s so good, but because he’s good and tied up with Demetria, and it’s all just too confusing.

He looks at her from across the desk, assessing her with steel gray eyes, and she tries to keep her focus on why she’s there.

“I thought maybe we could go over Casper’s situation and then come up with a plan.” He speaks with authority and even with the distance she finds his presence intimidating. Not because of strength, but because of his good looks and undeniable confidence.

“What’s there to go over? Demetria kept him isolated for two years. Now he’s an unsocialized mess.”

“She didn’t force him, Astrid.” He always defends her, even now when she’s locked up in a sanitarium for her mental instability. “Casper’s mentor died and Demetria found him living in undesirable conditions. Like the rest of us, he didn’t grow up in a typical situation and his special abilities with computers made it easier for him to disconnect from the real world. He does have some friends—they’re just online—gaming mostly. He did have a relationship with Atticus and together they designed and created the tools, super suits, and equipment you use at Elite. And he reached out to you guys and helped you on your mission.”

All of that is true but it doesn’t help the fact that he’s lived alone for two years. She looks up at the screen and watches the real “goblin” tool around his high-tech workshop. Demetria spared no expense outfitting the facility. Like his cartoon avatar he’s Asian; his parents were Japanese, Draco told her. What’s surprising is his physique. Although there are dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and maybe daylight, he’s not small or emaciated. He looks strong—healthy. She mentions this to Draco.

“Demetria worried about his physical health and she insisted on healthy food and an exercise regimen. He’s not up to the standards of the athletes at your gym, but if he had to run, he could.”

“I’m impressed she got him to do that.”

Draco smiles. “People will do a lot of things when motivated. All we had to do was suggest he may want to be fit for the end of the world. The idea of outrunning zombies appealed to him.”

“And he doesn’t know about you or Demetria. He just thinks he’s here under some setup with his mentor.”

“That’s a little more complex. He and I have developed a relationship over the past few weeks, once it became clear to your group that I was a survivor too.”

She leans back in her seat and uses her abilities to search Draco’s echo. There’s a hint of a shadow over him. He doesn’t do deceit well. “So what else aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s going to take some work to get him out of there. I know he loves being part of your team, but for now you’re probably going to have to go to him instead of the other way around. People make him nervous. He’s seen some bad shit go down, like the rest of us, but he’s often the first to know it’s coming. He hangs around the dark web, messing in the kind of garbage that keeps a person up at night.”

“Okay. I don’t have a problem coming here.”

He taps his fingers on the desk. “But you’re right, there’s something else.”

And there it is. “Tell me.”

“It’s not a big deal but he’ll be embarrassed when you find out.”

“Embarrassed?” She gets an uneasy feeling, despite Draco’s assurances. She knows Casper is prone to watching them—watching her? Has he invaded her privacy? Is that what’s holding him back? She’s not prepared for what comes next.

“Casper alters his voice when he speaks to you over the coms and via video.”

“Wait, what?” Not what she expected. Thankfully.

“His voice. He alters it.”

“I’ve noticed that.” His voice has a tinny, unnatural ring to it at times. “Why?”

“He has a severe stutter. It makes him incredibly uncomfortable to speak to others. It’s one of the reasons he isolated himself at the group home.” He picks a folder up off the top of the stack. “We have a medical evaluation from his time with his mentor. He tried to get him into speech therapy and a few other resources. It seems like he was making progress until his mentor died, then he regressed.”

“Stuttering isn’t a big deal.”

“Not to you or me, but it is to him.”

He offers her the folder but she shakes her head. She already feels like she’s intruding on Casper’s private life too far. If she’s going to make any headway with him, it will have to be on their own terms.

“Okay,” she says, fussing with the edge of her gloves. “How do we want to do this?”

“I think I should talk to him.”

“And what about me?”

Draco shakes his head. “I want you to observe. I doubt he’ll be ready to face you yet, but you need to know what you’re getting into.”

“How much does he know so far?”

“He knows about Demetria and what happened to Kincade and Blaze. He watches the news. He doesn’t know that I told you about him.”

“Great, well, no time like the present, right?”

Draco moves to her side of the desk and sits in the chair next to hers. She catches a whiff of his ridiculous scent, vanilla and sugar, because you know, he needs to be more enticing.

He uses the remote and switches from a live feed to one where he can speak to Casper.

“Casper,” he calls. The man looks at the nearest computer monitor and his face lights up.

“Draco! What’s up?”

“Just checking in with you. You’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” he says. It’s interesting to see this side of things. “I’ve just created an awesome tool for Quinn. It’s a baton that he can charge with his own electricity and use it to zap people. This way he doesn’t have to use his hands and modulate the current. The baton will do it for him.”

“That sounds impressive. I think he’ll like that.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty badass.” He holds it up and plays around, mimicking some defensive moves. Astrid can’t help but smile.

“So, look,” Draco says in an incredibly calm voice. “I have something I need to share with you.”

“What’s that?” Casper doesn’t look up from whatever it is he’s started messing with on the table.

“I know you value your privacy but I want you to know that I’m aware of your location.”

Casper pauses but doesn’t look at the camera. “Not possible dude. I’m off the grid.”

“Casper,” he says, but the man ignores him. “Cedric.”

That gets his attention.

“I know where you are and our feed is live. I can see you.”

He flips a bird at the camera. “Did you see that?”

“Actually yes. You’re wearing a blue shirt with some kind moose logo on the front. You need a haircut and there are three, no four, open soda cans on your desk.”

“How did you find me.”

“You’re not the only one with resources and you can’t keep hiding. You’re going to have to face your team and they want you as a more visible member of their group.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

He stares directly at Draco and now that it’s a real person and not a cartoon avatar, Astrid gets a good look at his face. He’s scared, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s also angry. “You know why. You’ve seen them—fuck, you’ve seen you. I can’t compete with all of that.”

“All of what?”

“The muscles and machismo and the talking. Hell, the talking. They talk all the fucking time.” He tosses his tool on the table. “Look, you all have your defenses. You have a shield and Quinn has his power and Owen can manipulate things to go his way. And if Astrid touches me…well, hell no. No. I’ve got nothing but this box and this thing that fixes my voice and I’m not going out there.”

Draco lets him stew for a minute before saying, “This is important, Casper. We need you, do you get that?”

“You have me, on my own terms.”

“But—” Draco’s eyes shift to hers and something shifts on Casper’s face. Maybe his eyes or the drop of his jaw. He’s too far away for Astrid to get a read on him but he stares into the camera and says, “Someone’s there with you.”

Mr. Perfect doesn’t lie. “Yes.”

“Who?”

With the remote Draco adjusts the camera. There’s no doubt when Casper sees Astrid’s face.

“Fuck you. Fuck you both. And stay the fuck away from me.”

The screen shorts out, turning black. He cut them off. Draco runs his hand over his face.

“Sorry,” Astrid says, feeling the bitter sting of tears in her eyes. She wipes them away before he can notice—or if he does, he’s kind enough not to say anything.

“Honestly, until that last part, it went better than I expected.”

“That was better?”

“He didn’t throw anything or break the camera. It’s happened before. I consider it a win.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Astrid says, crosses her legs. She doesn’t miss how he watches her move.

“Give him a few days to cool off. See if he sends over the tech or contacts you first.”

She nods. “I can do that.”

He reaches for her hand. “Thank you for coming by and giving it a shot. It means a lot to him even if he doesn’t realize it. I know things have been weird for us during this transition, but he needs you guys.”

“We’re a team. A jacked-up, misfit group of damaged and out of control people, but still…a team. He’s one of us if he wants it or not.” She touches Draco’s chin and he raises an eyebrow. “Well, all of us but you, Mr. Perfect.”

“You shouldn’t call me that,” he says. “I’m far from perfect.”

“That will be something you’ll have to prove for me to believe it.” She stands and crosses the room. The tension ratchets up too quickly between them. She knows when it’s time to leave. “But either way, we accept you, just like Casper. Got it?”

He nods and she walks away, feeling his eyes on her back. Draco may be perfect, but she suspects there’s more underneath the surface. What’s under there is the biggest question of all.

Chapter Four

Quinn

Astrid returns with a bag of tacos, a case of beer, and news about Jensen and Casper. He frowns at the bag, still worried about her eating habits, but tacos are better than pizza. Or so he thinks, until he watches her pour a spoonful of cheese dip over the top and then dip it into a container of sour cream.

“Ohmygodtheseareawesome.” She sits on top of the Lair desk and groans like a woman deprived of sustenance.

“You think Jensen is really going to back off?” Owen asks. He leans over and wipes a glob of sour cream off the corner of Astrid’s mouth and licks his finger.

Good grief.

“Yep. I told him you weren’t a murderer and he seemed to believe me.”

“What about the deal to stay off the streets?” Quinn asks. He dumps his tacos into a bowl and piles on the lettuce Astrid removed from hers to make a salad.

“I said we’d make an effort but that we’re still going to protect the city.” Her legs are criss-crossed and she takes a swig of her beer before going in for more food. “I’m not a fan of threats.”

“Did he say anything else about us?” Quinn asks.

“I told him you were Atticus-approved. Which,” she takes another sip, “is true, but mostly you guys need to be Astrid-approved and lucky for you both, you passed that test.”

Quinn raises his eyebrow in question. He’s wondered if Astrid and Owen had sex yet. The tension coming off Astrid had been palpable the past few days. Is this confirmation? The hungry look on Owen’s face makes him think they still haven’t crossed that line.

Quinn changes the subject. “Other than Casper losing his shit on you, how did he seem?”

“Good, I guess. He was busy working. The stutter thing is weird. I mean, does he think we’re going to judge him?”

“He’s bluffed a good game, As,” Owen says. “He’s mouthy and obnoxious. A total prick at times. It must be hard for him to have a weakness like this.”

“It’s not a weakness,” she says irritably.

“He thinks it is.”

The phone rings and everyone in the room freezes. It’s the burner. Just activated, and no one has ever called on it before.

“Pick it up!” Astrid shouts from across the room.

The phone buzzes again. No one moves.

“Me?” Quinn asks.

“Yes! You’re closest!”

“For Christ’s sake,” Owen grumbles. He snatches the phone off the desk. “Hello?”

He listens and then snatches a piece of paper and pen off the desk. “Right. Right. Got it. Thanks for calling.”

He hangs up.

“Who was that?” Quinn asks. They’d only given the number to a few people in the community. That’s what it was. A hotline of sorts to connect the neighborhood with their team.

Owen glances at Astrid. “That was Luby.”

“My Luby?” she asks, but they only know one kid in the Swamp with that name, and after the fire with Blaze she’s taken the vandalizer under her wing. It’s the third tip-off he’s given them about a robbing crew terrorizing the Swamp. They’ve eluded them every time. “What did he want?”

“There’s a robbery going down at Scruggs’s barbershop.”

None of them move.

“What do you want to do?” Quinn asks. The deal Astrid made with the agent is only a few hours old and it’s already a problem.

“I told Jensen we’d stand down.”

“Scruggs is a good guy. He cuts my hair,” he replies. It’s unlike Quinn to want to break the rules. “Plus, he’s like, ninety years old.”

“Is the break-in in process?” She’s inching toward the changing room, one foot on the step.

“It’s a tip-off,” Owen says. “We could get there first.”

“We could,” she considers, pulling the sweatshirt over her head. “Maybe stop it before it starts.”

They all know she’s full of shit. There’s no way they’re backing down from helping the neighborhood. She told Jensen as much. She enters the closet, leaving a trail of clothing behind.

“Then we better hurry,” Quinn says, following her in.

They’ve perfected the process, timing one another to get changed as quickly as possible. Half of their issue was getting distracted by Astrid wiggling into her leather pants and then dealing with unfortunate, uncontrollable circumstances that made it challenging to get into their leather pants.

The guys now make her go behind a curtain in the back corner. With less distractions, five minutes is all it takes for them to put on their suits and hit the streets. It’s probably still too slow, but Scruggs’s Barbershop isn’t far away. They go on foot. Owen hits the rooftop. Astrid and Quinn are on the ground, then they split when they get to the small building. Astrid goes around the back.

“Charger?” Owen says, taking point since Casper wouldn’t answer their call.

“In position at the entrance.”

“That’s what she said,” Astrid mutters.

“Seriously? You’re like a thirteen-year-old boy.”

“And that’s a bad thing? You were a thirteen-year-old boy at one point.”

“Yeah,” Quinn says, flipping on his mask screen. “And I was a horny dumbass.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Owen says. “No wonder Casper gets pissed all the time.”

“Sorry boss,” Astrid replies.

He ignores her. “Echo, what is your location.”

“I’m in the alley. There’s a bag of trash spilled on the ground. Looks like someone dropped it.”

“Is the back door open?”

She’s quiet for a moment, obviously mulling over some sort of anal sex retort, but finally says, “Unlocked. How do we want to do this?”

Quinn tries to get a good visual in the building. He adjusts the systems on his mask and the infrared clicks on. Two figures roam the small shop and one sits in a barber chair. Could be Scruggs or another thief.

“Looks like we’re a minute or two late,” Quinn says. “I’ll go in. Pan, you take watch from above. Echo, hold at the back door.”

“Got it,” Astrid says. Owen also gives confirmation.

Quinn moves quickly, kicking in the front door. Using his current, he holds up a shield. The electromagnetic properties can hold off almost any weapon and when the first punk panics and fires a gun, the bullet bounces off and ricochets into a glass mirror.

“It’s one of them!” the gunman shouts. The other scrambles for the money while Scruggs sits wide-eyed in his chair. The man is eighty, if not older, and has been cutting hair in the Swamp for fifty years. He’s an institution and the fact he’s being robbed is blasphemy.

They turn to the backdoor, looking to escape more than anything else. The team’s reputation is not that of killers.

“Echo—heads up.”

There’s a struggle out the backdoor. Two shots are fired. Quinn races to the back and sees both kids on the ground, hands bound behind their backs. She tucks the gun into her belt. Oh, and she looks pissed.

“Echo?” Owen asks.

“I’m fine. This kid is fucking trigger happy.” She gives the kid a nasty look, but they’re under control.

Quinn walks back in and glances at Scruggs, who is shakily getting out of the chair. “You okay?”

“Yeah, jumped me when I was taking out the trash.” He walks over to the cash register and checks the money.

“You need me to call the police?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want that task force down here any more than I want you guys down here.”

“Wait, what do you mean you don’t want us down here?”

The old man shakes his head. “You don’t see the pattern?”

Astrid walks in from the back. The two kids are bound right outside the door. Two weeks ago, she would have called Jensen. Now they’re not sure who to call.

“What pattern?” she asks, walking in and handing back over any money the kids took from Scruggs.

“This crew of punks is hitting everyone that’s sticking around during the neighborhood transition. It’s either to run us out by the developers or payback for betraying the community by transitioning over.” He grabs a broom and starts sweeping up broken glass. “You guys showing up here just puts a target on my head by either group.”

Astrid frowns. “You don’t want our help?”

“Nope little girl, I don’t. I lived here for a long time, survived a lot of robberies and many years without your help.” Sirens cry through the streets. Someone probably reported the gunfire. He sighs and rubs his forehead. “I won’t tell them you’re here if you let those kids go.”

“Let them go?”

He nods and goes back to sweeping.

From the set of Astrid’s jaw, it’s clear she’s prepared to fight Scruggs on this but the sirens get louder—closer.

“We can’t get caught out here,” Owen says in their ear. “Echo, cut them loose.”

She starts to argue but Quinn jerks his chin at her to head out the back door. Owen is right. The ink is barely dry on their agreement with Jensen. Breaking it already will just make them all a target.

In the alley, the theives, dumb teenagers with smug grins on their faces, hold their bound hands out. They heard the conversation with Scruggs.

Astrid steps behind the kids and pulls out a knife to cut the ties. She makes sure they see it and one of the boys swallows nervously.

“You got off lucky,” Quinn says, raising his voice over the sound of the police sirens. “If you’d killed someone this would be different, got it? He let you go, but don’t forget we’re watching.”

“Yeah, well we’ve got eyes too,” one of the kids says. He’s slim and has a mean face. How he got so jaded so fast is a mystery Quinn’s not sure he wants the answer to. “And you’re the ones with numbered days. The Po-po, they ain’t got time for you. Word’s out. The Superfreaks are going down.” He looks Quinn up and down, there’s very little fear in his brown eyes. “You better watch your back.”

Astrid cuts the ties and both kids hop up off the ground. They dart down the block, slipping down an alley that goes back to the Swamp.

“5-0 is here,” Owen says. “Time to scatter.”

They go their separate ways, circling back to the gym. Quinn sticks to the shadows, wondering what is going on and how this changes thing. A few weeks ago, they were the heroes saving the Harbor Line from Demetria. Now? They’re the villains too.

“I don’t feel right about this,” he says once they meet back up. “Letting those punks go? They should be in jail.”

“I know,” Astrid agrees. Beneath her mask her eyes flash with anger.

“You want to go back and get them?” Owen asks.

“No,” she says, checking her tool belt. “You guys head back. I’m going to check on Luby.”

Owen’s eyes bulge. “Not alone. Fuck that.”

Her eyes dart between him and Quinn. He’s not happy about it in the least, but steps back, knowing better than to push her. “I’ve been doing this for a lot longer than we’ve been a team. I can handle checking on one kid—”

“Who lives in a gang-infested warzone—”

She holds her hand up in front of Owen’s face and he stops, but only by clenching his jaw. He looks at Quinn accusingly and finally he speaks up. “Astrid, we’re a team and none of us get to unilaterally make decisions—got it?”

The look on her face reminds Quinn of her as a child; lost and afraid. Scared that if she touched something, she’d destroy it. She takes two steps back and then turns, racing across the street and scaling a wooden fence in two moves. In the blink of an eye, she’s gone. Owen shifts on his feet to follow. Quinn grabs him by the arm.

“Let her go.”

“You’re kidding.”

“She’s got on her mask. We can track her that way, but yeah, she needs a minute.” Owen’s chest puffs up in anger and a little bit of fear. “She’ll be okay.”

“And if she’s not?”

Quinn holds his eye. “You can take it out on me.”

Chapter Five

Astrid

It doesn’t take long for her to catch the trail of the two kids that broke into the barbershop. Their sweat is still on her gloves, the faint, lingering echo of their heartbeats rattle in her ears. They’re dumb and don’t lie low like they should and stop at the corner shop just outside the Crescent City Homes housing development for cigarettes and beer.

She’s waiting, tucked in the shadows of the broken streetlight, when they come outside.

They stop and turn to run the other direction but she’s ready, flinging two small balls at them. One kid—probably a fluke—darts to the right. The other gets caught when the balls separate with a length of cord between them and boomerang around his body, pinning his arms. The magnetic clack locks him in place. The second kid is gone, vanished into the Swamp.

“Hey!” the kid shouts, his hands squirming by his sides. He steps in the beer spilling from the can he dropped to the ground. “What the hell, bitch? You said we could go.”

“I changed my mind.” Ripping off her glove, she reaches for the hand of the mean-faced kid. He jerks back but she holds his arm steady. “Promise, this won’t hurt.”

She narrows her focus, not wanting to get caught up in the onslaught of this kid’s life. She needs to know who is pushing them out on the streets and who told them the Supers’ days are numbered. She grips his hand, dirty and clammy with sweat, and channels his echo.

She pushes past the emotions, adrenaline and hyped up testosterone. Digs in his head for his name: Arvin. High school dropout. Baby at home. An image of money and a slip of paper with a list of names changing hands. Black uniforms. “Keep robbing. Keep drawing them out. Even if she turns you in, it won’t stick.”

She drops his hand.

“Why does the task force want us on the streets?”

“What?” He’s confused but the tone is more suspicious.

“Are they trying to catch us? Are these traps?”

“I don’t know, lady, they just pay me and my crew. I go where I’m told.”

She tightens her grip on his shoulder. “You could have been killed tonight or worse, killed someone else. If you’re just out there playing games, leave the guns at home.”

He smiles, the smug kind of someone that thinks they have all the power. He’s wrong. Dead wrong, and she fears for him.

She touches the small button on the ball behind Arvin’s back. It retracts when her gloves deactivate the magnets. “Go, but understand, Arvin, I’m not the bad guy here.”

He doesn’t take the time to respond before running in the direction his friend vanished minutes before. Astrid doesn’t feel any better about what she’s learned, only that she’s going to have to sit down with Jensen and have another talk.

She has one more visit to make in the Swamp and she runs to the back wall of Crescent Homes and eases over. It only takes a minute to find Luby’s rundown apartment. The blue glow of the television flickers in the cracked, taped-up window. He’s awake, like most nights, taking care of his grandmother.

Afraid someone may be watching the apartment, she texts him from the burner and asks him to meet her on the back side of the building. He doesn’t reply to the message but she hears him on the stairs, then going the long way around, passing the dumpster and mailboxes.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. His eyes dart around nervously. They met when he was vandalizing an old school as part of Kincade’s plan to destroy the older buildings on the Harbor Line. Astrid read his echo that night and something stuck with her.

“Things went south at the barbershop.” She observes him closely, tracking with all of her senses. “You know anything about that?”

His eyes dart to the side and his pulse notches up. “Naw. Was the crew there?”

“Yes.”

“Then how did it go wrong?”

“Scruggs didn’t want us there. Told us to let the crew go.” She lifts her chin. “Said people don’t want our help anymore.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” But she thinks he does. Not from the guilt he’s emanating, but the fear.

She looks up to the window above. “How’s your grandma?”

“Not great. About the same.” Astrid’s not sure what the problem is—she hasn’t asked, but she knows Luby’s grandmother is very sick and that makes him vulnerable to the players in the community.

“You come to me if you need anything, okay? If she needs anything.”

He looks up from the spot he’s been starting at on the ground and says, “Why are you so nice to me?”

She takes in this kid, skinny with floppy hair that hangs over his eyes; nails  dirty, filled with the gunk from the spray paint he tags all over the city—he’s just trying to leave his mark. She knows the feeling.

“We all need people,” she says, thinking guiltily about the team she sent back home. Dammit, now that the adrenaline is fading she’s feeling bad about that. “It took me a long time to figure that out. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, Luby, okay?”

He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets, headed back up to his mom. Astrid climbs back over the fence to deal with the shit storm she left in her wake at home.

Chapter Six

Astrid

After changing, she heads upstairs, ready to face Owen and Quinn. Harry waits for her at the door, weaving between her legs and crying for attention and cheese. She’s aware that the cat is only in it for the cheese these days, but at 14 she can have what she wants.

She thought they’d be in bed by now but the trash talk from the common space says otherwise. Both guys are sitting on the leather couch animatedly absorbed in a video game, controllers shaking and f-bombs dropping. Empty beer bottles line the coffee table.

“Dude, watch out. Watch out! What the fuck!” Owen shouts at someone. Quinn? Himself? Oh, it’s just the guy dressed up like a knight on the screen. She rolls her eyes and walks past them to the kitchen.

Neither acknowledge her, which is fine. She owes them the apology. Unfortunately, this isn’t a strong suit of hers. She buys time, doling out cheese to the demanding cat and shoving two Pop-Tarts in the toaster, giving herself until the buzzer chimes to go back in there and face the music.

Pastries in hand, she walks into the living room and watches the guys beat the crap out of a troll. She bites into the delicious strawberry Pop-Tart and Quinn looks up at her.

“Are you seriously eating that crap?” he asks.

Oh shit. She forgot about the eating better deal.

“It’s been a long night,” she says. “And you had beer. Like, three of them.”

“Mine are gluten-free and low carb.”

Lord, she wants to roll her eyes at him but holds it in. Owen doesn’t, snorting at the man next to him and saying, “He’s drinking piss, As. I don’t think it counts as unhealthy. Gross, but not unhealthy.”

She swallows the Pop-Tart and sits on the chair facing the coffee table. Quinn shuts off the game, making Owen curse and mutter about level eight and booty. “Look, I’m sorry about tonight. I was out of line.”

“You were,” Owen says, stretching out on the couch. Astrid can’t help but think about them—all of them—and what they did on there a few weeks ago. She doubts it’s far from their minds. Her belly flips at the memory.

“You keep calling us a team, Astrid, but you don’t always treat us that way,” Quinn adds. “Do we get full say or is it up to you?”

“I’m not sure I can answer that,” she admits.

“I can tell you this,” Owen says. “That task force isn’t looking at us individually. They’re hunting us together. We have to have each other’s backs.”

He’s right about that.

“Besides that,” Quinn says, “This is more than just positioning. You know that—our bond goes deeper. It’s in our genes. Our history. We can’t forget that. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t either,” she agrees. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Just be safe, that’s all we’re asking.”

She notices neither is that angry nor have they asked her where she went. “You tracked me, didn’t you?”

“Fuck yes we did,” Owen says, looking pleased with himself.

Quinn shakes his head and says, “Casper would have if he was talking to us right now.”

She laughs bitterly. “Another failure on my part.”

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be the leader of this team. The two sets of eyes watching her say something different and that’s what makes it hard. They believe in her.

Owen stands and walks over to her. He offers his hand and pulls her out of the seat. She rises and lands in his arms. “This shit has been hard since we were kids and no one ever said it was going to get easier, but you going off like that? It just puts us all at risk.”

She nods. “I get it, Owen. I fucked up. Just another in a long line of stupid moves. Aligning with Demetria, trying to work with Kincade, pushing Casper…”

He strokes her back and kisses her gently, letting her know he’s not angry anymore. She feels that in her soul.

“Take it from a lifelong fuck-up, you’ve got to do way more stupid things to qualify for the title.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Quinn tugs her away from Owen and embraces her in his enormous arms. She feels safe here. Loved. Pushing them away is dumb. It’s what Casper’s doing and if she has to be honest, is why Draco keeps his distance. They need to understand trusting one another makes them better.

“Fear makes us stupid,” she says, acknowledging the truth.

“Good thing you’re so hot,” Owen says, picking up the Pop-Tart and taking a bite. He glances down at the cat and moves out of the way. Harry hisses at his ankles.

“And a total bad-ass,” Quinn adds, keeping his arm wrapped around her.

She knows in that moment it’s okay to make mistakes. These two have her back and everything is going to be all right.

Chapter Seven

Owen

Christian Hightower is his name. Number four out of eight. He runs laps around the gym, keeping pace with the other recruits. From the outside, Owen has brown hair instead of blond. His skin is two shades darker, his eyes match. His body is the same, as is his voice and mind. This program is bullshit and the only thing getting him through this is getting some dirt on Jensen and his project.

Oh, well, and making Astrid pay, as they arranged.

The woman, his woman, stands on a small platform at the edge of the gym. She assesses each one of the recruits, including him, taking notes on her clipboard. Owen knows he doesn’t have to pass but he can’t make a fool of himself out here. He wants to fit in and keep up with the others. He also wants to prove himself to her.

He told her the other night he was the king of all fuck-ups. It’s not a lie. He had a better shot than any of them at having a normal life. His aunt gave him that chance, but he screwed around, using his gift for petty games.

And then she died and he did nothing to save her.

From there he went down the path of vengeance. That too got him nothing but trouble, his name on Jensen’s list. The only good thing that came of it was Astrid following him home.

Astrid pushing back.

Astrid reaching for him.

Touching him.

Her eyes.

Her mouth.

Her wet and delicious—

The recruit in front of him falls, tripping over a shoelace. Owen stumbles, but stays upright. He glances at Astrid and spots the slightest shake of her head. Smooth dude. Smooth.

He pulls his mind out of the gutter and back in the game.

The recruit class is an even split, four men and four women. They have no information on one another—no backstory. They’re told not to share. Two of the guys are obviously ex-military, as is one of the women. He’d guess the others have a background in athletics and various skills in fighting. One woman already is falling behind on the run. Astrid eyes her. She’ll cut her before the day is over.

Jesus, he thinks, picking up his pace. When is the day going to be over?

Heart pounding, he finishes his final lap and grabs the water bottle off the floor and drinks half of it in one swallow. One of the men, cut like marble but probably doesn’t do enough cardio, pukes into the trashcan next to the wall.

“Circle up!” Astrid shouts and they all walk over to her. Well, everyone but the lagging jogger. She’ll pack her shit and head home.

“Good work on your first day, the testing rounds are the hardest. We push you to the max to see what you can handle.” She eyes the group. “Tomorrow we’ll split into teams for some hand-to-hand drills. At the end of the day we’ll pair off and spar. Losers get extra work. Any questions?”

The group drips with sweat. No one has the extra breath for questions. Astrid looks pleased about this.

“Alright, go home and rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The recruits gather their belongings and leave. Owen heads to the locker room and when no one is looking, uses the back door to get to the hallway that heads to their living quarters upstairs.

Astrid waits at the bottom. From the tight set of her jaw, there’s no mistaking why she’s here. “I’m not expecting you to be the best in the class, but I do need you not to blow it, okay?”

“I got distracted.”

“Not an excuse.”

“Even if I was thinking about you?”

She snorts. “Nice try.”

Owen leans against the wall. His legs cramp. He reaches for her hip.  “You think I’m kidding? Because I’m not. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Then maybe we should take a break? Keep things platonic.”

Terror sets in. “What? No. No. That is not what I meant.”

“Then what? Blow off a little steam? Is that the problem? Are you on edge?”

Mercy, she’s trying to kill him. Kill him with that sexy mouth and rocking body. His body is exhausted and his brain turns too much.

“I’ll tell you what,” she says, licking her bottom lip. “I’ve got five minutes. Meet me upstairs?”

The glint in her eye is mischievous. She already knows his answer. “I don’t think I can move my legs that fast.”

“Aww, poor baby. Well, maybe next time.” She turns away.

“You’re just going to leave me?”

Her smile is wicked. “Quinn left you some kind of puke green smoothie in the refrigerator. He swears it will ease the lactic build-up in your quads.”

“Ugh. It probably has kale in it.”

She laughs. “Probably. Drink it, shower, and hit the bed.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Want to do one of the last two with me? Or both? I can lean on the wall.”

“I’ve got to log in my report on the recruits.”

“After?”

“Headed to check on Casper.”

“You’re a busy woman, Astrid Petta.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find time to fit you in.” She smiles devilishly.

“I’m holding you to it.” He kisses her, wanting a taste before she leaves again. She pulls away and waves, heading back into the gym. Owen grunts, taking the first step up the long flight of stairs that leads to the third floor. Yeah, he’s definitely holding her to it.

Chapter Eight

Astrid

“Where are you headed?” Quinn asks from behind the office desk. He’s comfortable in his position of manager; taking over scheduling and payroll among a few other day-to-day jobs. It’s been a huge help and frees Astrid to handle the recruits and now Casper.

“Draco’s.” His eyebrow lifts and his emotions shift. She’s sensed it before, the mixture of protection and jealousy. “I’m going to try working with Casper a little today.”

“Will he be there?”

“Who?” She knows who. He leans back in his seat, jaw tight, refusing to say his name. Astrid sighs. “Are you really jealous?”

“No,” he replies, but the next wave of emotions is guilt. “Okay, a little.”

“There’s no reason to be jealous.”

“You’re the one that calls him Mr. Perfect, not me.”

“Hey, I can’t help the fact he’s some kind of genetically superior being. He has nothing to do with us.” The relationship she’s built with both Quinn and Owen is something she can’t describe. Their bond to one another is something that seems tied as much to their commitment to using their powers for good as it is the connection of their past. They’ve got something no one else can understand—she trusts them in a way she can’t risk with others. Except, the knowing look on Quinn’s face isn’t unreasonable. The bond she shares with them is one she also may share with Draco. She feels the tug to him, one she finds hard to resist.

She walks around the desk and nudges Quinn’s desk chair back. He gives her room and she hops up on the desk. They’re face to face, or close to it, and it’s the best place to clear the air.

“Tell me what you think is going on with us,” she says. “Do you think you and I are just fooling around? That I’m testing the waters, seeing which one of you I like the best?”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think that.”

“Then what?”

Quinn rubs his face and sighs. “I don’t know if I trust him, Astrid. We’ve got a lot of enemies and he works for one of them. Things are rocky right now with Jensen and this task force—the push back from Scruggs last night. I don’t know how much we can let him in.”

We. That means he’s thought about it and he’s thinking about it from the perspective of the group. That makes her happy, because that idea of them being bonded together is what’s getting her through the day. Pushing her to go back and figure out how to help Casper.

She slides off the desk and places her hands on the chair arms, leaning over Quinn. Like clockwork, his heartbeat kicks into gear. “I’m not going to let anyone mess us up, okay?” She holds up her hand and pulls off her glove. She runs her fingers down his face, neck, and down his arm to his hand. When their fingers touch there’s no doubt of his affection for her—his loyalty and commitment. It’s strong and it’s a testimony of what the others need to meet. She presses her lips to his, sealing her promise to keep them safe.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I trust you and your freaky senses.”

“I know you do.” She kisses him once more and then stands, knowing she’s got to get out of here sooner than later or things are going to get heated. “Hey, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

She pulls the scrap of paper out of her pocket. “That’s Luby’s number. Give him a call and offer him a job. I want to keep an eye on him.”

He picks up the number. “You think he’s a problem?”

“No,” she says, grabbing her things. “I think he’s in danger and that’s one kid I’m not going to let slip through the cracks.”

*

In a testimony of trust, Draco gave Astrid access to his home. Not Demetria’s mansion but the smaller cottage behind the main house. The one where he lives. He told her that he and Demetria never slept together—that their relationship wasn’t like that. She believes him, but it’s still hard to reconcile the crazy woman and her relationship with Draco, especially when she approaches the cottage.

It, like everything else on the property, is well-maintained and could be lifted from a fairytale. The wood-shingled roof is covered with green moss. The front door has thick lead windows. A picket fence surrounds the house and she unlatches the gate to let herself in.

He told her that the cottage is closer to Casper’s bunker—a tiny fortress built into the cliffs backing up to the house. It was originally just that—a fallout shelter—but it’s perfect for the paranoid and scared Goblin that watches over her with such care.

Today, Astrid plans on speaking with him directly and laying everything on the table.  She has a nagging, nervous feeling it’s not going to go well.

Opening the front door, her senses are assaulted with full-on Draco. Vanilla mixed with sugar and a hint of something manly, she has no idea how to describe it. All she knows is that it makes her want to roll around in that scent—naked.

The next thing that catches her eye is the books.

Books are everywhere.

It’s not cluttered but they line the shelves on the walls and are stacked on tables. Hardback, paperback, fiction, and non-fiction. She recognizes Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. She spies poetry and Jane Austen.

“Huh,” she says aloud, passing the living room and taking note of a well-worn leather chair in front of the fireplace. A small wooden table is next to it, piled high with more books. In the kitchen, a single coffee cup dries next to the sink.

Draco is out at the sanitarium visiting Demetria. It’s odd without him here, even odder in this more intimate space. At once she feels closer to him while also struck with the reality she knows nothing about this man at all. Entering his home office, she finds what was missing from the office in Demetria’s house. More photos, small knickknacks from his travels abroad. A blue hoodie hanging over a chair. She picks it up and catches his sweet scent still lingering in the fabric. Sneakers sit by the door, the bottoms covered in mud from a recent hike.

All of this is information she’ll have to unpack later. Right now, she’s here to figure out someone else.

She sits behind the desk, sinking into the soft leather chair, and picks up the remote, using it like he showed her. The screen turns on and Casper is visible, standing over his worktable. She presses the microphone and says, “Good afternoon, Casper.”

He looks up at the camera in the corner of the room and touches something on his neck. The voice modulator, she assumes, because when he speaks it’s the tinny, false sound she’s accustomed to. “Astrid?”

“That’s me, friend. How are you doing?”

He frowns and drops his project. The anger she expected has been replaced with confusion. “Are you in Draco’s house? That’s his camera.”

“I am.”

“Did you kill him?”

She’s not sure if he’s kidding. “Of course I didn’t kill him. He let me in.” She holds up the brass key. “Gave me full access.”

“Wooed him with your magic pussy, didn’t you?”

“Gross and no.”

“Fuck, then you’re staging a takeover? I don’t know if that’s going to work. Draco is pretty tough. Where are the others?”

“They know I’m here and no, I’m not staging a takeover, Jesus, what do you think? I’m some kind of sex-charming witch? I came to see you. I want to work this out.”

He sits in front of his monitor and flips the screen. It’s no longer an overview of the room but of his face. His real face, and something about seeing it makes her heart clench. “Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I’ve been on kind of a manic bender—you know—working and shit. I didn’t expect you to show up with Draco like that. It’s weird having someone else know where I am.”

“You know you can trust me.”

“I know.” He sighs and rubs his eyes.

“Looks like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t,” he agrees. “But I made you some cool tech. I’ll send it over ASAP.”

“How about I come down and get it.” He freezes. “Or maybe we could meet in the middle, somewhere around that crazy carousel Demetria installed in the back yard.”

“That’s a negative, Echo. No can do.”

“Why not? We’re friends and friends hang out together. We share what’s going on in life and help each other when there’s a problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Of course not!” she says, realizing it was the wrong thing to say. “I just mean—fuck, dude, you know what I mean. You know me. I am not going to judge you because of some little disability.”

“What did you say?” His voice is cold as ice.

“Huh? Just that I want to see you, I don’t care if you think it’s weird.”

His eyes cloud with anger. “No, about the disability. What are you talking about?”

They stare at one another while the realization sets in. Astrid knows his secret, about his stutter, and she watches as his reality falls apart.

“Casper, it’s not a big deal, no one cares. No one is judging—"

“Shut up, Astrid.”

“What? What are you so mad about?”

“How did he find out?” He gives her no chance to respond. “Digging around in my background? Looking up doctor reports. I took all that shit off the web. I’m untraceable.”

Yet they both know he’s not and that seems to rock him more than anything else.

“It’s one thing for him to know but fuck. Fuck, Astrid, I’ve kept all his secrets—I kept HIM from you until he was ready to make himself known. I’ve worked tirelessly for all of you and this is the shit I get in return.”

His jaw ticks and it’s odd to see the face of the man she’s come to know so well. His temper isn’t a surprise, but the way it changes his face is. The curve of his cheekbones is harsh, as is the point of his chin. His eyes narrow and Astrid can only guess about the string of curses under his breath.

“Look, this is all a big clusterfuck and I desperately want to fix it. Let’s just meet and deal with it. I know you’re anxious but that’s the fear taking over—trust me, I know fear and anxiety better than anyone. You can’t let it get to you.”

He stares at the monitor. She knows he can see her sitting behind Draco’s desk. His eyes flash with a glimmer and she’s hopeful he’ll take the chance, for her and the bond they’ve created, but the spark of anger returns and he says, “Fuck you, Astrid. Fuck you and your nosy, getting all up in my business self. You can’t just be happy with Owen and Quinn. No, you had to mix it up with Draco and then track me down.” His voice raises, pushing at the modulator. “You kept talking about Demetria and her Lost Boys and how crazy she is. You know, now that I think about it, I think you’re the one big on collecting the rejects from Project 12.”

“That is not what I’m doing!”

“No? I’m not an idiot and I’m not going to be one of your little toys. Stay the fuck away from me.”

The screen cuts, turning black. His words sting like a slap to the face.

Stunned and hurting, she sits in the chair staring up at the blank screen. She’s blinking back tears when she hears footsteps in the hallway and the familiar scent of the man that lives in the house.

“Hey,” he says, coming around the desk. One look at her and the smile on his mouth vanishes. “What happened?”

Astrid wipes her eyes. “I pushed too hard or something.”

The tears fall. She hasn’t been yelled at like that in a long time. Draco pulls her out of the chair and wraps his arms around her. She breaks into deeper sobs, feeling ridiculous, but what Casper said hurt.

“I told you he was scared,” Draco says in her ear. His arms feel safe and warm. Of course, his hugs are perfect, too.

“Of what?”

“Life. The world. You.”

“Why would he be scared of me?”

He laughs and steps back. “He idolizes you, you know that, right? Everything he does goes back to his feelings for you and the promises he made to Atticus.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know he’s been watching you for years—and I don’t mean that in a creepy way. You’ve been a window to the world for him, a gorgeous, strong, smart, and capable woman. He’s never been around a woman like you before and that has to be intimidating. I know it is for me.”

She uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears. “Shut up. First of all, Casper’s never been around any women so it can’t just be that. And I call bullshit on you thinking I’m intimidating.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she says, feeling instantly vulnerable. “I’m not strong and I’m questioningly capable. I eat sugar all day and I can’t keep my room clean. I’ve got a task force on my ass and let Demetria tear up the city. Even the people in the Swamp don’t want my help anymore. Casper just dropped the f-bomb about ten times and accused me of collecting Lost Boys and maybe he’s right? Maybe that is what I’m doing?” She inhales. “In short, I’m a hot mess.”

He sets his gray eyes on her and looks her up and down. The action makes her skin itch even without him touching her. He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m calling bullshit back. The city needs you. Casper needs you and most of all, all of us Lost Boys need you.”

“Uh, did Mr. Perfect just swear?”

He blanches. “I curse. Sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes but she also didn’t miss what he said. “So, you think I’m collecting men too?”

“I think we have a bond created many years ago that no one else can understand or break.” He leans against the desk. “I thought Demetria was enough, but meeting you and the others solidified that there’s more to us together than apart.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying Casper will come around because he has to—it’s part of who we are.”

“And you?”

“I’m coming around, too.”

She’s the one that looks him over now, from his handsome face over every inch of his sculpted, perfect body. “So, what do we do next?”

His eyes rake over her like he knows good and well what he wants to do next, and the stutter-kick of his heart only confirms it.

“I don’t like being pushed out of the Swamp,” she confesses. “I get what Jensen is saying and why the Mayor wants a task force but like Demetria, I don’t like letting the city down. “

“What do you want to do about it?” he asks.

“Let’s go figure out what’s happening in the Swamp, there has to be more to the story.”

She nods because he’s right. Both sides of the Harbor Line, the Swamp and the city, are her home. She’s not getting run off that easily.

“I think you may need to come back to the gym with me first,” she says.

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s time for you to get your suit.”

Chapter Nine

Astrid

She calls Owen on the way back to the gym, asking him to come downstairs.

“If I can make it,” he declares, still whining about the workout.

“Come down,” she says. “And I’ll give you a massage later.”

There’s no hesitation. “Deal.”

At the gym, she has Draco wait outside and catches Quinn before he sees him. “Trust me on this, okay?”

He doesn’t ask what. He probably already knows. To his credit, he nods and kisses her on the lips and says, “Always.”

Owen nods his approval. She may have made the decision, but they’ll do this together.

His confidence makes it easier to bring Draco into the office and then take him below. Actually, Quinn walks him down, giving him his first view of the Lair.

“Bring Casper in on this,” she says. Owen boots him up. He notices the connection and flips them off.

“Casper, you don’t have to talk to me right now but you do have to listen to what I’m about to say, got it?”

There’s no nod, just the tight clench of his jaw.

Draco takes in the Lair, looking over the extensive computer system and connected workshop. It’s clear that Mr. Perfect isn’t surprised, but he’s definitely impressed. “Atticus and Casper did this?”

“Along with my mentor, Holden,” Quinn says.

“Sometimes I forget how big this whole thing was, you know?” He touches a few items on the worktable. “It’s weird that we were just kids and there was a whole project devoted to cultivating our skills.”

“And a group willing to kill us all to stop it,” Owen adds.

Astrid stands in front of the changing room door. She knows Draco has pieces of his suit already, like his shield, given to him by Casper, but there’s something about the finality of bringing him into the fold this way. It’s how it started for her and Quinn and how they welcomed Owen into the group. Now she looks at the three of them, their ridiculously fit bodies filling the space, and she knows this is the right thing to do. The only thing.

“Owen’s right,” she says. “There is something that binds us together that is beyond what any normal person would know. We were orphaned, tested on, brought together, and split apart. Some of us are dead. A few of us damaged.” She glances at the monitor. “Some maybe beyond repair. But the one thing we have is one another. Atticus and Holden knew this. They led Quinn and me to find one another. They gave us the information so we could find each of you as well.”

The men watch her as she takes off her gloves. She walks over and takes Quinn and Owen’s hands. “Before we took the PD-1, I could touch you because I couldn’t feel your echo. It gave me sanctuary, but now I don’t need it. I trust you implicitly. Body, mind, and soul. I trust you in the field, on a rooftop, or in the middle of a fire.” She feels the same coming off their echo, unconditional support. Astrid releases them and walks over to Draco. She can feel his integrity before she touches him, but when she does make contact with his hand she feels something that wasn’t there before. She tilts her head in question but the flicker of emotion vanishes and he’s back to his resolve.

She’s willing to give him time. What she’s saying, no, proposing, is hard to swallow. She speaks to him anyway. “Can you do this? Do you want to?”

“More than anything. I agree that this is what our mentors wanted for us eventually. The city is in pain and someone has to bridge the gap.” He looks down at their hands. “I feel awful for my involvement with Demetria’s plan. It…things really got out of control.”

“Dude, you can’t blame yourself for that. She talked us all into backing her up,” Owen says.

Quinn nods. “I think it’s why much of the neighborhood hates us now. They saw us on that float and think we were involved with destroying the Harbor Line.”

“How do we change their perspective?” Astrid asks. Her fingers are still linked with Draco’s and she feels a rush of energy. She glances up and catches the smile on his lips. “What? Do you have an idea?”

“I think we go out there and show them who we are. The good side. The people that want to help.”

“When the hell are you planning on doing this?” Casper asks. They all look up in surprise at the screen. At least he’s talking.

“Now,” she says, holding the eye of each of them. “Suit up.”

Draco’s face lights up. “Thank god, I thought you’d never say it.”

Chapter Ten

Draco

Astrid walks in to the changing room and Owen jabs him with a sharp elbow. “This is where you see the difference of Astrid in the suit and Astrid out.”

“I don’t get what you mean? I’ve experienced both.”

Just then Astrid emerges in the doorway in nothing but a tight athletic bra that reveals an ample view of her cleavage between open sides of her top. He swallows thickly at the sight of the strip of her lean belly teasing between her low-slung leather pants and the bra. There’s something about her—the way her confidence changes--that hits Draco in the gut.

“Have you seen my cuff?” she asks, securing one to her left arm.

Owen retrieves the other from the worktable and tosses it to her. She smiles and vanishes again.

“It’s like a full change, when she zips up all that leather. Lethal. Strong. You won’t hear any of that self-doubt.”

Draco has a million questions, a billion, about Astrid and her relationship with these other guys. But their comfort with one another speaks volumes and it may be the only thing about the situation that terrifies him.

She walks back out, fully dressed, and smiles at him.

“Want to see yours?”

What he really wants is to see whatever is under all that leather, but he nods and follows her into the changing area. She points to a cabinet with his name on it and inside is a sleek suit similar to hers and the others’. Hanging on the back of the door is a new shield and in the middle of the cabinet is a stand holding his mask.

“It’s official,” she says. “You’re one of us.”

The nerves he felt earlier—the ones Astrid no doubt felt—flare back up. He knows there’s more to the bond with these men than just their pasts and fighting crime. A bond that terrifies him.

“What is that?” she asks carefully and quietly. “Something comes over you every once in a while.”

“It’s just new,” he tells her, embarrassed he’s so easy for her to read. “Thank you for including me in this. And Casper. I think you’re right about our destiny together.”

“Come on,” she says, zipping up her jacket and taking away the fantastic view of her chest. “Let’s hit the streets.”

She walks out of the room, her blond hair flying behind her like a halo. He doesn’t miss how her fingers graze Quinn’s hip or the smile she bestows on Owen as their shoulders brush. Their connection leaves a confused, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

The two men enter and they change quickly, in some kind of test to see who can be the first. Their familiarity is odd to him. He didn’t grow up in isolation like Casper or tucked safely under the protection of guardians like Astrid and Quinn. He wasn’t feral, hustling in the streets like Owen. He grew up quietly with a strong sense of education and a respect for women. Astrid has definitely earned his respect and admiration with her performance on the street and the way her heart beats for the community. She’s a good person, but there’s something else. Something deeper, and it incites something dormant in him that he’s not sure how to handle.

Quinn zips up his jacket and nods at him to follow. Draco grabs his mask and slips it over his eyes and starts his first night as one of the Elite.

Chapter Eleven

Astrid

The night is moonless and damp from an earlier rain. After splitting up from Quinn and Owen five minutes before, Draco and Astrid prowl through the streets trying to get a sense of what’s happening in their city. So far, nothing much is going on, so they take a short cut through the park to reach the waterfront. Draco is quiet and it makes her nervous. “So you’re a big reader?”

He smiles. “You noticed?”

“It was hard not to.”

The walk around the fountain. The park is completely empty this late at night, but sometimes kids like Luby like to tag the bridges. “I didn’t peg you as a Harry Potter fan.”

“No?” he says. “Kids with magical powers all sent to a school and are under attack by greater forces? That doesn’t resonate with you?”

“Huh. I never thought about it that way.”

“Me either until Emma gave me the books before a long flight overseas. These kids aren’t given their powers. They’re born with them—and they get a choice in how to use them, for good or evil.”

“I’ve read Harry Potter, Draco—” she slaps her hand over her mouth. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugs. “He resonates.”

“You resonate with the bad guy?” She shakes her head. “Mr. Perfect, you’re an enigma.”

The lights outside the park lead them to their destination, but she’s got a million questions about the Draco thing and from the sideways glance he gives her, he knows. “Draco had an awful father. A terrible, narcissistic mother and aunt.” He adjusts his mask. “My parents weren’t good people, Astrid. I realize now that had I grown up in their house, with these gifts, they would have been used for evil. There’s always someone that wants to use us for evil.” Demetria’s name is unspoken. “The name reminds me not to take that path.”

“You need reminding?”

“Don’t you?”

The words should be red flag but she understands what he means. It’s a hard balance finding the right place in this world. “Okay,” she says, determined to lighten the mood, “tell me this: Kill, Fuck, Marry; Ron, Hermione, Harry.”

He gives her a crazy look but she nudges him encouragingly and he thinks on it.

“Kill Harry, Fuck Hermione, Marry Ron.”

Well that was a surprise. “Explain.”

“Harry’s annoying. I said it. Way too much baggage. I’d marry Ron because then I’d get to be part of the Weasley family. And I’d fuck Hermione because smart girls are sexy as hell, she’s definitely got an adventurous side and after we made love she’d probably lay in bed with me all day and read.” He stops. The entrance of the park is just ahead.

That is a revealing answer. She takes a moment to digest it.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Me?” she says, but she already knows the answer. “I’d kill Hermione because I’m not really into chicks. But the other two? I have a philosophy when it comes to men I have a connection with and find attractive.”

“What’s that?”

She shrugs. “Why choose?”

*

The roads are being repaired down by the water from where Demetria’s dragon tore up the asphalt. The streets are no longer filled with the litter of the parade, although clumps of flowers in honor of the victims are scattered down the route.

“It’s hard to believe it was all real,” Draco says.

Astrid nods in agreement. “No wonder the mayor is pissed.”

They’re not out here for any particular reason, just trying to get a feel of what’s going on. Luby hasn’t called again and that makes Astrid nervous. Did someone find out he tipped her off? There are too many unknowns right now and she doesn’t like it.

The wind shifts and she catches a hint of perfume in the air. Lilac. She holds her hand up and Draco pauses. Every day they’re more in tune. He watches and waits for her signal. A zipping sound scrapes down the road. She frowns in confusion but hears that the heartbeat coming from down the block is a little elevated—no, make that two heartbeats. She’s not getting a read on adrenaline just—

The girl comes into view holding hands with a boy carrying a skateboard in his other hand. He drops it suddenly, the board and the hand, and zips down the road before turning back to meet her. When he catches up to her he slows, kissing her quick on the lips. Both heartbeats hammer.

Draco and Astrid cling to the shadows and let them pass.

“They probably shouldn’t be out here,” he says once they’re gone.

She shrugs. “We probably shouldn’t be either.”

The kids wander off and they’re alone and she too wonders exactly what she’s doing out here. Killing time mostly, giving Draco a chance to be part of the team. She glances over at him and notices him staring.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

The dark glint in his eye along with the subtle shift in his scent triggers her curiosity. She peels off her glove and then his.

“What are you doing?” He stares at their hands.

“Just curious about something.” She steadies herself, zeroing in on the information she wants, and presses their palms together. He’s a jumble of emotions but it’s not hard to narrow in on the one that matches his scent. She pushed past the righteousness and dedication, peeling back the layers to the base of his emotions.

Want. Hunger. Need. Teeth biting down on lips. Breasts pushing at leather. Her cheeks, her hair. Her eyes.

The vision shifts.

She’s pressed against a wall in her suit—a brick wall, a smile on her mouth, Draco holding her up, her legs wrapped around him.

“Oh,” she gasps, pulling out of the moment. It certainly wasn’t a memory. More like a fantasy.

“You okay?” he asks, suspicious of what she’d just seen. Her body heats at the thought of what he wants to do to her. She looks behind her and sees the brick wall.

“I’m…” She has a hard time forming words. He’s rattled her. Sex like that…it’s unexpected to know he thinks of her in such a way. He hides his interest well.

“What did you see?” he asks, but she lifts up her hand and quickly tugs her glove back on.

Heavy boots scuff against the pavement and the hair on Astrid’s neck prickles with alert. She shows him two fingers, indicating two people are coming.

“The kids?” he whispers.

She shakes her head and he removes the shield off his back. She tilts her head to go south, to avoid whoever is coming. They don’t need an altercation—not tonight.

Draco follows her order and clings to the shadows of the building. It’s one of the ones Kincade burned. Acrid smoke still lingers in the air, dulling her sense of smell. A shift in the wind sets her on edge and she reaches for Draco’s hand to stop him just before he turns the corner.

Too late.

Two men, covered head-to-toe in military black, are just on the other side. The soldiers seem just as surprised as they are, but it doesn’t keep Draco from raising his shield.

No. They can’t fight these men.

“Ah, looks like we have a couple of vigilantes,” one says to the other. Their faces are masked but Astrid doesn’t need to see a face to know who is behind it. Rowe, her former student, blocks their path.

“That’s not what we are and you know it.”

“You work outside the law, you insert yourself in police matters, you cause mayhem and destruction.” Rowe glares at her. “I’d call that vigilantism.”

“What do you call saving a kid from a burning building?”

“Stupid,” he sneers. “Unless you work for the fire department.”

“I’d call it being a hero instead of a warmongering threat like you,” Astrid spats back, not knowing why she’s in this fight.

“Unfortunately, you’ve violated the Safe City Act. You’ll have to come with us.”

Draco laughs. “Unlikely.”

Rowe can’t back away from a challenge and obviously, neither can Draco. She silently wills him to back off and to just get out of there. The other soldier looks equally concerned and watches Rowe and Draco puff out their chests, seconds from blowing up.

“Mr. Perfect,” Casper breaks in. “You’ve got six more incoming. These guys aren’t alone. They’re coming from behind.”

She glances backwards and sees the shadows in the alley a block away. Footsteps echo off the ground. There’s a whirring overhead. She looks up and spots a small black disk. What the hell?

“Diversion in 3…2…1…” A loud explosion followed by smoke consumes both sides of them, behind Rowe and between the ones approaching. Draco shoots his rappelling cord into the air, hooking over the side of the building. Before the smoke clears, Draco has his arms around her and they’re up on the rooftop. Casper cackles in her ear. “Did you see that? Did you fucking see that? Holy shit.”

“What was that?” she asks, running over rooftops. The gym is three blocks away but her mask clicks on and reveals the others are on the run too.

“That was all me, baby.”

“You caused that explosion? How?”

“I built a drone.”

She stops and rolls her eyes at Draco. “Is this your way of never leaving your bunker?”

“You got it.” He clicks out, still laughing, and they drop down the fire escape onto the building next to hers. At the bottom they find Owen and Quinn. Owen’s face is bruised.

She reaches for him and he grunts.

“What happened?”

“Got jumped by a group in the Swamp. Some kind of neighborhood watch.”

“What? Were you doing anything?”

“Nope. Just looking around. Keeping an eye out.”

“You were right,” Draco says. “We’ve got no friends out here.”

They’ve got the gear, they have the tech, they have the powers to keep themselves and others alive. Unfortunately, no one wants their help.

Chapter Twelve

Owen

Early morning light peeks in from his bedroom window and there’s nothing he wants more than to stay in bed. For a week.

His body aches from three days of training and he can barely lift his arms. After the fiasco of going out the other night, he’s glad Astrid finally agreed to keep off the suits and stay at home. The city is too dangerous for them right now. The shit with Demetria and Blaze imploded, literally, and they need to keep a low profile.

He’d hoped this would let him off the hook for the recruitment program but no, Astrid doubled down. She wants a man on the inside of Jensen’s unit and unfortunately for him, he’s that man.

A footstep creaks on the floor outside his door and he looks over just in time to see Astrid slip into his room. She closes the door with a quiet click and walks over.

“Hey,” he says with a scratchy morning voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I promised you a massage before everything went to hell, but I’ve got time now.”

She’s standing there in her standard pajamas; tiny shorts and a ridiculously see-through tank. He and Quinn are both convinced she’s got no fucking clue the affect she has on them in that get-up, but he’s not going to be the one to tell her. She likes her clothing tight and he likes her regardless.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take a massage.”

She pushes him down on his stomach and pulls off the blanket. He’s shirtless and shivers when she touches his back with her fingers. They’re cool compared to the warmth of his skin. She climbs on the bed, straddling her legs over his hips, resting her weight on his ass. His cock grows hard underneath him, pressing into the mattress.

Her touch is light at first, stroking down his arms and back. Then she kneads harder, pushing deep into his aching, sore muscles.

“You’re very good at this,” he says, knowing this kind of intimacy is hard for her, she spent her life avoiding contact. He tries to keep it light.

“Atticus had a massage therapist that worked with the trainers for a long time. Her name was Patricia and she taught me some moves.” Her thumb digs into the muscle just below his neck. Owen winces, both hating and loving the pain. “You’re very tight in this area.”

“Yeah,” he replies, exhaling into his pillow. That’s not the only place getting tight.

“You have pretty skin.” Her fingers linger near his shoulder and the tattoo inked in his flesh. “You never told me about this.”

He turns his head to the side so he can catch a glimpse of her face. Her long braid hangs over her shoulder. “I got it after my aunt died.”

Her fingertips stroke across the lines. “An angel.”

“She promised she’d always watch over me.”

Her lips replace her fingers, warm and wet against his shoulder. She proceeds down his back, kneading and kissing the sore muscles away. Her nails scrape near the edge of his shorts and he grunts back the discomfort of his throbbing cock. He shifts, lifting on his elbows, looking over his shoulder so he can see her better.

“As…”

“Yeah?” she replies innocently.

He holds her blue-green eyes. “You know I’m not a patient man.”

It’s a lie, though. They still haven’t had sex. They’ve kissed and she sucked him off. He fingered her on the couch, dry humping her ass while she brought Quinn to a shattering orgasm. They’d flirted and touched but they’d held back from this one thing. Why? Time. Opportunity? Obligations?

None of those seem to be a deterrent right now and although he’s willing to wait for her, he’s still a man that knows what he wants. He wants, no needs, to claim this woman with his body, mind, and soul.

With two hands she lowers his shorts, easing them over the hard steel jammed into the mattress. She moves a hand to his back, making him stay. “You wanted a massage, Owen. Remember? All the whining? The pain?”

“There are other ways to relieve pain.”

“I think you mean stress.”

“Well, you’re causing me stress, babe.”

She slides her body back over his legs and her hands move to his ass. She starts massaging again and he clenches his jaw when she moves close to the crack, pushing and pulling the skin.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“What?” Damn. Are those her teeth? He’s throbbing hard now, close to humping the bedsheets. Her fingers dip between his legs, touching the soft, hidden area.

Owen presses his forehead into the pillow, hissing at the sensation. No, patience isn’t in his wheelhouse, this is nothing but torture. He closes his eyes and thinks of her skin, her lips, her mouth. He thinks of her pussy and how wet it must be under her tiny, cotton shorts.

He hears the rustle of fabric behind him and with a grimace he turns back to catch a glimpse of the evil woman putting him through such torturous pain. His reaction to seeing her is a low growl, coming deep in his chest. She’s stripped naked, posed angelically at the end of the bed. He waits a beat, pushing against his inner beast, to take her in. Absorbing the way her hair hangs over her shoulder, trailing down to her magnificent breasts. From her nipples to her belly button to the patch of fair hair covering her most alluring prize. The look she gives him is naughty, like she knows she’s crossed a line and doesn’t look the least bit sorry.

“Is this your way of telling me something?” he asks, moving to face her. His cock hits against his thigh.

He’s not prepared for her reply.

“I want you.”

Well, prepared isn’t the right word because he lunges for her and drags her across the bed. She squeals with delight and he stifles it with a kiss. He reaches for her tits, her pussy, and every inch of body in between. His voice catches when she touches his cock, remembering the way her mouth felt around it. When she’s settled on his lap she doesn’t waste time, lifting up and lowering herself down on him. He groans with instant relief, like he’s finally come home, and the faint smile and pink blush to her cheeks tells him she feels the same.

But none of it compares with the way she looks, the way she feels, when she begins rocking over him, moving her body in a way that meets his so perfectly. She rides him slow, gaining speed when she feels it, and he thumbs her nipples until her breathing comes in ragged jags. Sex with Astrid isn’t a moment—it’s an experience, full-bodied and emotionally crippling. She gives it all, all, and when she crests over the wave of her orgasm, she takes Owen along for the ride.

*

The punch comes from below, nailing him under the chin and rattling his teeth. He stumbles backwards but holds himself upright. Astrid laughs at him through her mouth guard and protects her face with her boxing gloves.

Their eyes connect. Aquamarine against green and he’s jolted back to the sight of her riding his cock hours ago. It boils down to the base—the connection he feels to her now, and when she swings another punch he blocks it and lands one of his own.

“Damn,” one of the recruits says; number six, he thinks. “Go get her, Christian!”

The whole class is watching, plus a couple others working out in the gym. Quinn’s hulking frame watches from the observation platform above.

She steps back, absorbing the hit, and a different kind of smile plays on her lips. She feels it too and bends her elbows, ready to take the fight to the next level.

Yesterday she would have wiped the floor with him—today they’re almost even. She lashes back with a roundhouse kick. He dodges and gets in an elbow jab, then sees an opening and catches her from behind. Her arms are locked, her chest heaving from exhaustion. He smells the sweat on her neck and shoves his knee into the back of hers. A witty remark dances on his tongue when she hooks her ankle around his and leverages his weight to one side. They crash to the floor and Owen is completely taken off guard and finds himself face down under the weight of her body.

“Almost had her!” number six cries, fist hammering the nearest pole.

Astrid’s hair hangs over his own sweaty neck and her breath is hot against his ear. “Good job,” she says, pushing off his back and standing. He climbs to his knees and notices the new respect in the faces of his classmates. He really must have been close.

Once they’re dismissed and he’s cleaned up, Owen heads to the observation deck, wiping the sweat off his face and neck with a towel. Quinn offers his fist and they bump them together.

“It’s different now, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Owen asks, but he suspects he knows.

“The bond with Astrid. You’re connected now, I don’t know if it’s her echo or what. But it’s like being in synch.”

“An intuition.”

“Right,” Quin says. “It’s not like with other women. Whatever those doctors did to us, they probably didn’t expect this.”

“No, I doubt it. They did everything they could to keep our powers separate from one another.”

Quinn nods and they both look down on the gym floor. Astrid talks to Luby, who is cleaning up the weights left on the floor.

“How do you think they got it so wrong?” he asks, resting his arms on the railing. “That we work better together than apart?”

“I think the doctors had one plan for us and ultimately it wasn’t evil. But if we fell into the hands of someone else, the military, then there had to be some kind of backup measure. Something to make us less dangerous.”  He glances down at Astrid and she looks up at them, raising an eyebrow in question. “I also think they underestimated her power.”

“How?” Owen asks.

“If I had to guess, her empathy is what strips down the barriers between us. When we’re…you know, with her…she unlocks the bond.”

Making love to Astrid certainly changed their dynamic. He felt it when she orgasmed, today in the fight. Quinn may be right. That means the three of them are stronger than anyone ever anticipated. It brings another question to light.

“Do you think she knows?”

He nods. “To a degree.”

“And the others, Draco? Casper? Where do they fit into this?”

“However she wants them to.” His eyes dart to the gym entrance and he grimaces. Owen turns to see what he’s reacting to and spots the man striding in the front door.

“Fuck.”

“You said it. Come on,” Quinn replies, already at the stairwell.

Trouble seems to find them even when they’re not looking. He follows Quinn down the stairs and hopes everyone keeps their cool.

Chapter Thirteen

Astrid

“Sorry, some of my customers are jerks,” she says, walking up to Luby. He’s cleaning up the weights left out. Some are massive, which makes it hard to clean up. Luby’s nineteen, skinny, and spends too many nights huffing chemicals while tagging the bridges and underpasses of the city. Astrid helps him with a fifty-pound weight and slides it back into the holder.

“Saw you whip up on that guy over there,” he says. “You’re pretty strong.”

She flexes her bicep. “You want a trainer? I can set you up with Mick after work. No charge.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Eh, I’ve got obligations.”

His grandmother. Right.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thanks,” he says, lifting a barbell and moving to its spot on the shelf. “And thanks for the job.”

“You had a good recommendation.”

Luby doesn’t know Astrid is Echo. The mask’s properties keep her disguised. “So you know the girl in the suit. Echo, they call her.”

“I do.”

He nods, hair flopping in his eyes. “She’s cool.”

She can’t fight the smile. “Yeah, I think so too. She said you needed some help—could use a job. I’m always happy to support people in the community.”

He looks down at his paint-stained hands. “There’s some crazy stuff going on out there right now. Sometimes I tip her off when I hear things, but I don’t know. I’m getting a weird vibe lately.”

“Like what?”

“That task force the Mayor has out there. I’m not sure they’re really on the level. They’re getting awfully chummy with some of the guys in the Swamp.”

“Bad guys?” He shrugs and moves to stack the workout mats. “Sometimes the police and other community leaders try to make connections, you know, get a feel for the area. It’s not always a bad thing.”

“Yeah maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced and adds. “If you see your friend, tell her to watch out. I think something bad is coming.”

“Bad like the parade?”

“I don’t know. Just…bad.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’ll let her know.”

She turns to leave and he grabs her by the arm. “Tell her to be careful and to double check any police reports. The criminals aren’t the only thing to be worried about in the Swamp right now.”

She nods her thanks. “Gotcha. Thanks, Luby.”

He glances over his shoulder and his energy changes. Quickly he turns back to his work, fear rolling off his body in waves. She turns to see what spooked him and it’s not hard to find the culprit.

Rowe.

He strides in the front door dressed in his black military-grade task force uniform. Two others wait outside. All eyes turn to watch him and he walks through the gym like a god. He’s strapped with weapons and carries a roll of papers in his hand. Astrid senses rather than sees Owen and Quinn enter near the office. She crosses the floor and meets him before he makes it too far.

“Rowe,” she says, trying to keep her personal feelings aside. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Thought you may want to see one of your old recruits on the job.” His grin is smug and he knows it’s for Quinn as much as it is for her. “Guess sleeping with the instructor isn’t the way to the top.”

She shoots Quinn a look to stand down but Owen is already on it, holding their teammate by the arm.

“I see you’re with the task force.”

“Leader of it.” He points to a badge on his chest.

“Impressive. I told Jensen you’d be good in the right position.”

“Yeah, it’s my job to get this city back in order after the fiasco during the parade. We’ve got night patrols, undercover agents, community liaisons, but mostly we’re tasked with shutting down the vigilante behavior.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and keeps her face impassive. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

He shrugs. “Anyway, I’m doing a stop by of all the businesses on the Harbor Line. You may have heard about the charity soccer game the Mayor is hosting to rebuild the part of the Harbor Line destroyed by the parade, I’ve got some promotional material for you.”

“He thinks another public event is a good idea?” Owen asks, stepping forward for the poster. Astrid glances at it and sees the date is a few weeks away. Location, the Crescent City Stadium.

“It’s not my job to second-guess the boss, but this one is for ticket holders only, and with your friend in the loony-bin it should run more smoothly.” Astrid bristles at the description of Demetria, both as her friend and the slander.

“What about these ’vigilantes’ running around the city. Aren’t you afraid they’ll show up?”

“I dare them to.” He laughs. “So how are things? Local businesses seem to be targets for some of the discontent with the progress being made in this area. Have you had any problems?”

“No. We get along well with the community.”

“That doesn’t seem to help. I know you’ve got security here and you think you can handle yourself, but tensions are rising out there.” He pulls a card from his pocket. “Don’t be afraid to call me if something comes up.”

She takes it. “Sure.”

He leans over and adds in a low voice, “Call me day or night. I’m here for any and all your needs.” His eyes flick over her shoulder, obviously at Quinn. “You know, once you get tired of fucking the help.”

Before he can straighten, Astrid shifts into motion. She stomps on his foot and grabs the gun out of his holster. Kneeing him in the face, she takes both elbows and slams down on his back and then kicks his feet out from under him. She aims the weapon at his head. Rowe’s jaw clenches in rage.

“I could arrest you,” he says. A bruise starts to swell by his jaw.

“Do it,” she says, cocking the trigger. “And see who wins that fight too.”

They stare at one another until he concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. She releases the trigger and holds the gun in the air. Quinn is by her side in an instant and takes it from her.

“No one comes into my house and disrespects me. Get him the fuck out of here,” she says, glaring down at him. She knew he was a psychopath and told Jensen to be careful. Too bad he didn’t listen. “And don’t step foot in my building again, got it?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before he’s lifted off the ground by Owen and Quinn. She turns, aware that the whole gym is watching her. Mick and the guys training on the Parkour run. She doesn’t care, other than connecting with Luby, who stares at her like he’s seen a ghost.

He knows better than anyone she most likely stepped in a hornet’s nest she can’t get out of. Rowe won’t back down now. If anything, Astrid just made the target on her team and everyone associated with her bigger than ever.

Chapter Fourteen

Astrid

Beer sloshes out of the pitcher and spills down the side. Owen curses at the loss but Astrid just slides over her glass. She needs another drink. They all do.

“How long before he comes back?” Quinn asks from across the table. The primary topic that night had been how Astrid shamed and humiliated Rowe, but they all know there will be a price to pay.

“He won’t come in the front door,” she says, licking the beer off her thumb. “He’ll jump me on the street or arrest me for something else.”

“You think Jensen will intervene?” Owen asks.

“No idea what is going through Jensen’s head these days.” She holds up her glass for a toast. “Here’s to being impulsive and pissing off a psychopath.”

They clink glasses. Owen tosses his arm over her shoulder. “You did it spectacularly. That’s what counts. And to be completely honest, I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.”

She and Quinn both roll their eyes.

“God, he’s such a prick,” she says, feeling the alcohol now. It’s warm and makes her lips feel numb. She works her way under Owen’s arm, liking the way he smells. “Why didn’t one of you stop me?”

“Who knew you’d disarm a special agent in the middle of the gym?” Quinn says. “I thought you were just going to berate him.”

“Nope.” Owen smiles. “If As goes down, she’s going down in flames.”

“And taking you all with me.”

“We’re a team, babe. That’s how it works.” Quinn smiles across the table and Owen nods in agreement. “We knew going in, self-control is not your strong suit.”

“I’ve corrupted you both,” she says, easing out of the booth. “Don’t worry, just going to the ladies’ room. I think I can do that without starting a civil war.”

No one at the table seems comforted by that statement.

The music in the bar is loud, indie rock. Better than the emo shit they play at Skull Knockers near the university. They decided to go to one of the new places down by the water. Support the Harbor Line. It’s their home and no one, including Rowe and his band of merry dicks, is going to intimidate her otherwise.

She’s in and out of the bathroom quickly, only stopping to wash the beer off her hands and take a quick look in the mirror. She forwent her standard leggings and hoodie for the night, opting for a tight black shirt with long sleeves. The jeans are skinny, stuck to her like a second skin, and her boots black with a sharp, pointed heel. She even took a minute to dust powder over her nose and coat her lashes in mascara. The guys noticed, their bodies betraying them the second she came into sight. The affect she has on them is empowering—to them as well as her.

Drying her hands, she keeps her gloves in her back pocket—something she’s trying to do more and more as she learns to control her abilities.

Three girls enter the bathroom, giggling and smelling of smoke. She walks past them waving her hand in front of her face but stops short the second she enters the hallway.

Someone is waiting for her.

“Heard you were back here,” Draco says. He’s devastatingly handsome. The gray of his button-down matches his eyes. The short haircut accentuates the strong line of his jaw. An expensive silver watch circles his wrist. He looks out of place here, like he got lost on the way back from a corporate retreat and is just slumming for the night.

Is that what Draco’s doing? Slumming it?

“Is this something you do?” she asks. “Lurk around women’s bathrooms?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Here?”

He grimaces at the bathroom door. “Maybe outside.”

“I should tell the guys so they don’t worry.”

He touches my elbow, steadying her wobbly feet. “I already did. They know you’re with me.”

Safe is what he means, because that’s who Draco is. A protector. No wonder Casper gave him a shield as his primary weapon. He walks away from the bar and pushes open the back door. It leads them to a small back patio lit with a string of lights. Flat beds of sand stretch across the patio. It’s a bocce ball course. She rolls her eyes. Freaking hipsters.

Water laps nearby. They’re right on the harbor. They find a bench overlooking the water and sit.

“I heard about what happened today.”

“Oh yeah?” She can’t imagine Owen or Quinn contacting him. “So Casper won’t talk to me but he’ll watch?”

He laughs. “Pretty much.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“The task force is no joke, Astrid. You don’t need the extra attention right now.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Let a thug with a badge come in my business and threaten me?”

“Of course not. But there has to be some kind of middle ground.”

She eyes him. The shadows of the lamplight make him even more handsome. “You don’t seem like a man that understands the middle ground. I think you’re pretty black and white when it comes to things.”

“There’s a right and a wrong. I try to stay on the right.”

“Where does Demetria fall into that? Where does Project 12? Casper? There’s a lot of shades of gray you’re dealing with.” She feels the tension in him, the conflict and confusion. He came here for a reason, most likely one he can’t define. “Did you come down here to tell me to be careful?”

“Yes.”

“Did you come down here to make sure I was okay?”

“Yes.”

“Did you come down here because you don’t trust me or Owen or Quinn to stay out of trouble?”

His lip quirks. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“You’re not our dad, Draco. Relax. Join us for a drink. Socialize.”

He wrinkles his nose.

“You know it may help Casper understand the importance of the group if you join in every once in a while.”

Understanding flickers in his eyes.

“One drink.”

“Perfect.”

“For Casper.”

“Obviously.” She smiles and links her arm with his. “Hey! Have you ever played bocce?”

Chapter Fifteen

Draco

With strategic heft, the weighted blue ball flies though the air and lands with a plop in the sand. There’s silence and one gasp of disbelief when it doesn’t roll but it does knock a similar yellow ball on the side, bumping it out of its slot for first position.

The small group of spectators, who Draco suspects are well aware that they’re watching four genetically superior individuals, break into cheers. One person isn’t so pleased.

“You. Cheated.”

Draco smiles at Astrid, tipping the bottle of beer to his lips and taking a refreshing, victorious pull. The woman on her own is a spit-fire. Competitive and angry? She’s a damned wrathful goddess.

“I don’t cheat.”

“Of course you don’t,” she mutters, like this is a bad thing. “You’re just all perfectly-perfect at all the things, right?”

He shrugs. “Your nickname, not mine.”

He walks into the sand with Quinn and picks up the balls. Owen has found himself an empty seat by the fire pit and warms his hands.

Astrid approaches him and grabs her yellow balls. She’s beyond tipsy and her nose and cheeks are flushed. Her eyes spark with perceived injustice. Without warning, he pushes her hair over her shoulder. The wind from the harbor tangles it more every minute they’re out on the patio. She pauses and there’s an awkward moment that follows.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. She was right about him joining them. This was more fun than he expected. He glances at his watch. “I should probably head out. I’ve got a meeting at WIND-E in the morning.”

“More world domination?” Owen asks.

“Insurance settlement with the city over the street damage.”

“Ouch,” Quinn says. He takes the seat next to Owen.

“Yeah, the board probably won’t like it if I show up reeking of alcohol and with sand in my shoes.”

“Meeting or not, you don’t get to leave yet. I get a chance to even the score.”

Even drunk, Astrid’s a fierce competitor. Her sense of balance and accuracy match his own. She surely has speed over him due to her smaller stature, but the fact they’re a good fit in so many ways unnerves him.

“One game,” he agrees. “Just so I can destroy you.”

“You guys in?” she asks the others but they’re not moving from their chairs.

“Go for it, As,” Owen says. “Kick him in the, uh, bocce balls.”

Quinn shakes his head and mutters something about Owen being a dumbass.

“Oh well,” she says, stepping up to the line. The yellow ball rests in her hands. “Their loss.”

Draco glances over his shoulder and notices both men have their eyes on Astrid’s ass as she slightly bends to throw the ball. His eyes dart down instinctively and a flood of dirty thoughts fill his mind.

Again.

Her ball flies through the air, coming within five inches of the small white target.

Astrid fist pumps. “Your turn.”

He holds the two blue balls in his hands and tosses the first one. It comes within an inch of hers but not quite close enough.

“Aww,” she cries. “Just a little short.”

“I’ve got another turn,” he says to her. She reaches for her beer bottle and he takes it from her, tipping it to his mouth.

“Hey! That’s mine.”

“We’re on the same team, right?”

She smiles up at him and he knows he’s playing with fire. This girl, woman, she’s more than he can handle. He knows it. He cuts the flirting, which feels really, really nice, and focuses on the game so that he can get out of here before he’s in too deep.

“You’re up,” he says, picking her yellow ball up off the ground and handing it to her. Their fingers graze and a jolt travels up his skin. She blinks and he prays she didn’t get anything off of his echo about his rambling thoughts.

Astrid throws her final ball and it rolls across the packed surface. It bumps his off the track and eases in barely an inch from the target. She spins and smiles. “Nailed it.”

“Sure enough, let’s see if you can hold on to your lead.”

He’s about to launch his next ball when she leans over and whispers, “There are other things you could nail if you weren’t so uptight, Draco.”

Mid-arc, the ball slips from his fingers, zooming past the other balls and the target. It slams into the backboard hard and he winces at the sound of wood splitting.

“Holy shit,” Owen cries. “Did you just break it?”

“Super powers plus bocce may not be a great idea,” Quinn adds. He walks over to check the board. It’s split in two.

“Who cares about the backboard,” Astrid says, sticking out her tongue. “I won!”

Yeah, he wants to say, by whispering dirty thoughts in his ear. Talk about a cheater.

“I’ll pay the owner,” he says, “but seriously, I’ve gotta run.”

Quinn picks up the discarded game balls and puts them on the rack. “Why did you take over at WIND-E? Why the commitment to Demetria?”

“She reached out to me when I needed someone.” There’s no doubt they know what he means. They found one another in a similar way. “She’s not a bad person. Just very, very sick.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Astrid says. “He’s physically incapable of doing the wrong thing. Some greater sense of morality makes him stick by Demetria, even if she’s the devil.”

Owen perks up. “Is that true?”

He shakes his head and shoots Astrid a glare. “No. I can do the wrong thing, I just choose not to.”

He says it with conviction but the knot in his belly makes him doubtful. Astrid called him out earlier. There are shades of gray in what he’s dealing with right now. Is he doing the right thing for Demetria by fixing her mistakes? Is he doing more harm to Casper than good? He looks at the woman that walked off to rack the game balls on the small shelf by the door. Her hips sway to the beat of the music filtering through the speakers. She’s the biggest mystery of all to him. The biggest danger.

How can one small but powerful woman take up so much space in his head?

He stands. “Thanks for letting me hang out.”

“No problem, dude,” Owen says. “See you soon.”

Quinn shakes his hand and Draco gives Astrid a small wave. He leaves out the back gate and he’s nearing his car when he hears her voice.

“That’s how you’re going to leave?”

He turns to face Astrid. “Excuse me?”

“A wave?” She mocks the move. “Later!”

She’s feisty and something is bugging her. It has been for the last hour—no, make that since the day they met. “Do you have something to say to me?”

She closes the distance and looks up at him.

“I know how you feel.”

He tilts his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I read your echo that night we went on patrol. I saw what you wanted to do.” She bites her lip. “To me.”

Her accusation makes him uncomfortable. What had she seen? Because his thoughts tended to run the gamut on her. From endearing to protective to downright feral.

The look in her eye makes him suspect it’s the latter.

He swallows and carefully circumvents the truth, knowing his thoughts could have lingered on a dozen activities he’d like to share with her. Most naked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What you want to do falls in the gray space, Draco, just like I do. Just like the guys. It’s the place that binds us together, that gives us unimaginable strength.” She smiles and it’s breathtaking and terrifying at the same time. It cuts through his soul, through the protective shield he’s placed around himself—she disarms him and that is unacceptable.

“Look, I don’t want to sound rude, but whatever you three have going on is between you. I don’t see how it affects our working together as a team to keep the city safe.”

“Keep telling yourself that, but when you’re ready, let me know.”

“Ready for what?” She’s way too in his personal space.

“Me.”

Chapter Sixteen

Astrid

Draco may have had to meet with insurance adjusters, but Astrid had her own consequences to deal with. Jensen texted her at seven a.m., asking her to come to his office.

“Tell him you can’t,” Quinn says over breakfast. “You do have recruits downstairs.”

“You and Mick can handle it. He knows that. I have to go take my punishment for what happened with Rowe.”

His mouth sets in a grim line. “Don’t get arrested, okay?”

“I won’t.” He doesn’t look convinced so she kisses him quick on the lips. “Promise.”

She takes the Jeep to the agency office and moves through security. When Jensen appears, she expects him to take her up to his office. Instead, he presses the down button on the elevator.

“Are you taking me to a cell?” Quinn may have been right about that getting arrested thing. “Because Rowe was a dick and I won’t feel bad about defending myself.”

“If I was arresting you, that would have already happened.”

Oh.

“Is Mayor Steed serious about this charity game? I thought we’d had enough of this sort of thing lately. The last two caused more damage than good.”

“His name wasn’t on any of those events. He wants to take credit for rebuilding the city. We can’t stop him.”

“Yeah, well if Rowe keeps taunting me, it’s going to get ugly.”

The elevator doors slide open and it leads to an indoor firing range. She feels the shots vibrating in her chest as well as the gunfire rattling in her ears. She covers her ears and Jensen hands her a pair of headphones.

Then, silently, he hands her a gun and a clip of bullets and gestures for Astrid to follow. The weapon feels weird in her hand. Lighter than expected. She doesn’t use weapons like this. She is a weapon. Honed and developed for assault. Sure, she carries tools and a few things that get her out of a scrape, but guns? That’s not her style.

“Stall four,” he says and she enters the box. A fresh sheet of black paper with the outline of a white body hangs on the wall in the distance.

He nods at the target. “Go for it.”

Astrid has shot a gun before. There is a lot to the training of the recruits, and although the gym focuses on the physical side of things, she’s aware once they graduate they become even more lethal killers. Jensen had shown her and Atticus the process. But now, with the weight of the gun in her hand, and the target hanging in the distance, she feels like she’s part of some kind of test. Closing one eye she unloads the clip, feeling the recoil and vibration through her entire body. It hurts.

Jensen presses the button that brings the target back to them. On the good side, she hit the paper with every shot. On the bad she didn’t hit center mass with any of them.

“What’s the point here,” she says, not liking his silence or whatever it is he’s doing.

He lifts up another target—used—with seven bullets clumped together in the middle of the body, most near the heart. “This is Rowe’s target. He’s trained. And lethal and has a license to carry a gun. He may be a dick and you may have been his instructor, but you can’t mouth off to him.”

“Why? Because he’ll kill me?”

He sighs and rubs his chin. Too many new wrinkles have appeared on his face over the last few months. Obviously, she’s a contributing factor. “Rowe’s not going to kill you, Astrid, but he may take a shot at your alter ego. Or someone else in the community who thinks it’s okay to talk back to task force agents.”

“Wait, so you’re saying if they shoot someone, it’s my fault?”

“You berated and made a fool of him in front of a gym full of people. I can’t have you undermining our efforts. The mayor won’t like it, either.”

“So I just let him say disgusting things to me? Come in my gym and humiliate me?”

He shakes his head. “No, and none of those things are right either. I’m talking to him too. Just be careful, okay? He doesn’t know that it’s Astrid under that suit out there. We don’t need anyone on the edge more than they already are.”

Astrid exhales, annoyed with the entire situation. She doesn’t like Rowe and she isn’t a fan of this task force, but she knows both are out of her control. She grabs a fresh target and hangs it on the board, pressing the button to put it into place at the end of the range. While Jensen watches, she reloads the gun and adjusts her ear protectors. Then she trains the weapon on the target and fires.

If the government is sending armed men after her, then maybe she needs to add something new to her arsenal.

*

With the scent of gunpowder on her gloves, Astrid leaves the Agency’s office and heads to Draco’s. Casper sent her a message while she was at the range. If he’s reaching out to her, she’s not going to waste an opportunity.

The staff allows her on the property—Draco has given her access—and she goes straight to his cottage. Using her key, she unlocks the door and walks past the mountains of books to the office.

She flips on the computer and finds him at his desk, making intense faces at the screen. “Die, you fucking scum,” he mutters, and she rolls her eyes, assuming it’s a video game. What the hell is going on with these guys and their games?

When he doesn’t notice her presence, she takes a minute to watch him.

She’s seen his avatar for so long that it still surprises her that he’s a real person. If she met him on the street she’d think he was cute maybe. A little nerdy for her taste—jocks have always been her thing. Although Owen dashes that theory a little. Under her guidance, he’s turned into an athlete and it makes her curious if Casper has these enhanced skills as well. She’d love to put him through her training program to see how he’d do.

He’s not out of shape. Draco said he had a workout room attached to the bunker and she notices lithe arms under his baggy t-shirt. His face is thin but not gaunt. She finds his cheekbones fascinating; high and sharp. His eyes are dark, like his hair, and his features are classically Japanese.

Astrid bumps into the desk on the way to the chair and one of the books in a tall stack slips. She tries to catch it and doesn’t. It clatters loudly to the floor.

“What the…” he says, shifting his eyes off the game. They narrow when they see her.

“Hey Cas,” she says with a little wave.

“I’m out, guys. Work calls.” He fusses with his console and turns his attention to her. His voice comes out tinny and altered. He’s not ready to reveal his stutter to her. “So I’m the stalker, eh?”

“I wasn’t stalking you.”

“Uh, huh. Good thing I wasn’t doing anything weird.”

“Is that something I should be concerned about?” She’s seriously asking. Living with two men has been, uh, eye opening to say the least.

“It’s always good to knock,” he says with a wink. At least he’s in a good mood. Way better than the last time she’d been here. Maybe he’s changed his mind about meeting face to face. “So look, I got some intel about some terrorist activities focused on Crescent City.”

She frowns. “What kind of terrorists?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. I’m going to keep my eyes and ears open for anything suspicious. It could just be chatter because the stuff with Demetria put the city on people’s radars. You know how crazy bastards like to copy-cat. They may just want to see if your team will show up or if the task force is really up to the job. Who knows with these lunatics? But if there’s truth to it, we need to stay on top of it.”

“Good idea. Do you think Jensen knows? Because if he does, he didn’t tell me.”

“Depends on how good his data collection is.” He smiles at her. “I doubt it’s as good as I am.”

She leans back in her seat and watches him again for a minute. She likes this calmer, happier Casper. “So why did you call me up here?”

“Security. This is a direct feed to Draco’s office. Anything offsite could possibly be compromised. If these threats are real, I don’t want them to know we know.”

“Makes sense.” She waits a beat. “I thought maybe you’d reconsidered meeting. You know, face-to-face.”

The reaction from Casper is instantaneous. Tense jaw, neck, and shoulders. She wants to take it back but she doesn’t because they have to get past this. “I just need a little bit, dude. Can you give me that?”

He inhales and then exhales slowly. Astrid is too far away to read his echo, but even with the separation she senses his anxiety. If she could, she’d give him a hat with ears and let him wear it. “Fine. Meet me at the door.”

“How do I get there?”

“Go out the back door of the cottage. Follow the path.”

She breaks into a wide smile. “Thank you.”

He grunts in reply.

Not giving him a chance to back out, she’s out of the house and down the back steps in a heartbeat. The path is easily marked, pavers leading away from the house and into the wooded area of the hills. The stone bunker is covered in crawling ivy. She wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t looking, but there in the middle is the outline of a door.

She sends him a text.

I’m here.

I know

Will you open the door?

This seems like a bad idea

Nah. It’s a good one.

He doesn’t reply but she hears movement behind the door, then the scrape of metal and whine of hinges as it swings open. Astrid stands on a square paver with her hands shoved in her hoodie and waits.

Then she sees his face.

Eyes squint against the bright daylight. She smiles at his heartbeat, hammering so hard in his chest that it sounds like it may tear through. She catches his scent; soapy shampoo and detergent. Emotion wells in her because he’s like her, one of them, and it’s like finding a lost piece of her soul.

His dark brown eyes widen when he sees her and his fear slams into her even from this distance. He takes her in from head to toe. She opens her mouth to say something and a deep, odd sound comes from his throat.

“Hey,” she says, trying to play it cool. But Casper isn’t cool. He’s a hot mess and without another word or sound, he slams the door.  She runs forward and slams her hands against the metal. “Casper!”

There’s no reaction but through her palms she feels the tiniest vibration of echoing through the metal. He must be leaning against it. Astrid presses her hands flat and takes what she can get…a little piece of his heart.

*

After a while she feels nothing but silence though the door. She turns and walks back down the path until she reaches the small garden she’d raced through earlier. The house has a nice-sized back porch but the garden is nicer, including a small stone patio and fire pit in the center. Comfortable chairs surround the pit, but taking a look inside, she gets the feeling it’s never been used. Who would Draco bring out here? Does he have other friends?

Astrid enters through the back door that leads to a hallway. To her left is a nice sitting area. Her right, the door leading to a bedroom. Dark wood furniture catches her eye, along with deep gray bedding. She inhales and draws in the scent of sugar and vanilla. Draco’s room? Curiosity gets the best of her.

The floors are hardwood like the rest of the house but a soft white rug fills the space under the bed. A tower of books is stacked on the bedside table, letting her know which side he favors. The left—or closet to the door.

Forever the protector. There’s a second fireplace in the room along with another comfortable leather chair. A tall wardrobe backs against the wall along with another shelf of books. Maybe Casper isn’t the biggest or only nerd in the group. She walks over to the bed and runs her hand over the soft linen pillow and picks up the book on the top.

“What are you doing?”

She spins, holding the book in front of her, but she nearly drops it at the sight of him.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Nearly naked Draco wrapped only in a towel, slung low across his hips. His hair is wet. Water drips down his shoulders, chest, and stomach. She swallows, trying to make herself look away from the trail of hair leading downward, but is failing miserably.

“Astrid?”

“Right.” She shakes herself out of it. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, with a tense nod. His fingers hold onto the towel with an iron grip. It does nothing but accentuate the taut muscles in his arm. “What are you doing in here?”

A drop of water clings to his nipple. She clenches the book like a protective shield, because no woman is immune to this kind of body. “I uh…I was out back. With Casper.”

His expression softens. “You talked to him? He let you in the bunker?”

“No, not really.” She tries to regain her senses and turns to place the book back on the stack. “He agreed to a face-to-face. And to be fair, that happened. Right before he panicked and slammed the door in my face.”

“Ouch.”

“Progress, right?” It’s a stretch but also true. “He didn’t cuss me out once.”

His eyebrow raises. “That is progress.”

“Yeah, well, I apologize for invading your personal space. I didn’t know you were home.”

“So right, why are you in here?”

“Snooping, duh.” There’s no reason to lie. Draco doesn’t do lies well anyway. Which is why no matter how much he fights it, the attraction he has to her rolls off him in waves. She eyes him again, growing more comfortable with being in the presence of his body. “I thought you had a meeting.”

“Signing the insurance papers didn’t take long.” He wrinkles his nose. “Then I had to come home and wash the lawyer stink off.”

She laughs. “So maybe us meeting up like this is…fate.”

His gray eyes darken and hold hers. “I don’t believe in fate, Astrid.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what do you believe in, Mr. Perfect?”

He swallows. “I believe you’re trouble, Ms. Petta. The kind of trouble I can’t have in my life. Not right now.”

She’s moved a little closer to him. Or, despite his protests, he’s moved closer to her. Like magnets.

“Trouble?”

He groans and runs his hand through his damp hair. “You’re beautiful, sexy and strong. You intimidate the hell out of me but I like this team thing we’ve got going on. I like working with you—with Quinn and Owen. Your mentors had a good vision and after everything with Demetria, I want to help.” She feels the immense heat from his gaze. “I won’t mess that up because I find you attractive.”

She opens her mouth to speak, to tell him that there is more. She wants to tell him about the bond she and the others share and how it makes them stronger—more attune to one another and their cause, but his jaw tightens and she’s fully aware that he already knows.

“Draco—”

He shakes his head and she’s surprised when he reaches for her, tilting her chin so he can brush his lips over hers. Fire ignites and spreads through her limbs but he pulls away as quickly as he started. His chest heaves with self-control and one fist balls into the towel around at his hip.

“There is one thing you need to know about me, Astrid.”

“What?” Her knees are a little wobbly.

“I’m willing to be part of a team, but when it comes to women? I don’t share.”

His words drop like a truth-bomb, one Astrid’s not ready for. It’s good he doesn’t wait for a reply before he turns and walks back into the bathroom and closes the door, because she’s speechless.

Twice today, men on her team have walked away from her and shut her out. Twice she’s felt their hearts race at their decisions, knowing they were drawing a line in the sand.

Chapter Seventeen

Quinn

The tip from Luby came in after ten. Nothing major, just a text that said: The Swamp Needs Eyes Tonight.

He didn’t reply to Astrid’s follow-up texts and Owen had crashed for the night, beat from his day of training. She held the phone for a second and said, “Wanna hit the streets?”

It took five minutes for them to change and slip out the door on the rooftop. Now they’re walking down a side street in the Swamp doing what Luby asked. Keeping their eyes open.

Astrid walks beside him, her shoulders tense since she got home. It took him a while to get it out of her. The firing range with Jensen. The almost-encounter with Casper. And then something about, “Mr. Fucking Perfect and His Fucking Standards.”

He didn’t touch that one.

“I’m sure they’ll both come around,” he says, following her down a dark, gravel alley. The area used to be industrial but now most of the buildings are abandoned. It’s only a matter of time before the Harbor Line spreads this direction. “You think there’s any validity to the terrorist rumors?”

Astrid’s hair blows in the wind and she pushes it off her face. “I don’t know. It could be people just trying to stir the pot in Crescent City due to all of our recent bad press, or someone who doesn’t like what’s going on here.”

“Or it could be someone who does know what is going on here. People that know about us.”

She stops and faces him, her eyebrows furrowed. “Did you just toss out a conspiracy theory? I thought you were raised on facts and science.”

“I was,” he admits. “But the facts say someone blew up our group home, killed our mentors, and there are more survivors than we realized. We certainly didn’t see Blaze coming. The chaos in the city and the public behavior of the task force could provide whoever has been looking to take us out all these years with an opportunity.”

“Wow. That is a lot of conjecture.”

He shrugs. Quinn doesn’t like unanswered questions or puzzles missing pieces. The terrorist threat seems credible to him. “We just need to be careful.”

Loud voices cut their conversation and Astrid holds up her hand. They wait a beat, figuring out which direction its coming from. He activates his mask, pulling up the infrared and heat tracking. Astrid does the same and they creep toward the voices, climbing to the top of a crumbling stone fence. When they push the overgrowth aside, they’re looking over a large, abandoned parking lot of a former factory.

The scene below is chilling.

Large metal lights shine down on a group made up of residents of the Swamp. All ages are present, including a few faces familiar to Quinn. Astrid makes a sound in her throat. She probably knows more people down there than he does.

“What is this?” she asks.

People mill about, including children. It seems a little late for a community meeting but something about this seems off. Quinn’s eyes shift to the front of the lot, toward the men and women in familiar black uniforms.

“I guess the Task Force told them to.” He’s about to say something further when the squeal of a bullhorn echoes off the pavement. Astrid covers her ears, wincing at the harsh noise. Quinn reaches for her, touching her shoulder until it stops.

A man stands at the front holding the bullhorn and he speaks. His voice is instantly recognizable. Rowe. “Thank you for coming out tonight. Taking back the streets of the Swamp is important to you and to us. The city doesn’t like what is happening down here. The fires, the break-ins, and business men and women using your community for their personal gain.”

This sparks a round of cheers and clapping. Rowe nods, feeling the energy.

“We do not want this to be about violence. In fact, it’s the other direction. The incident at the parade was despicable and we hope to never see something like that again. So no, we do not want anymore bloodshed, what we need from you is your eyes and ears so we can stop the actual criminals. The vigilantes.”

The reaction to that is more mixed. One woman steps up and Astrid reaches for Quinn’s hand when she recognizes her. The woman she saved from the fire.

“These people saved me and my baby. They protect us.”

“No ma’am,” Rowe replies. “They’re breaking the law. We have police and fire departments to help you.”

“They don’t come down here! Those people, the vigilantes, as you call them, they’re here first.”

Pride swells in Quinn’s chest and Astrid’s hand tightens in his. That’s all they want, is to help people.

“I saw them on the float. They were part of that craziness!”

“My son got a broken leg that night!”

The energy shifts back and forth. Obviously, the community is mixed. Rowe calls for everyone to calm down and their voices settle.

“I know things haven’t been great down here. It’s why we want to help. We’re increasing patrols in this area and building community watch groups.”

The teenagers grumble about that. They’re not interested in being watched.

“But we need your help. We have to take the vigilantes off the street. They’re untrained and dangerous.”

Astrid scoffs at the word ‘untrained.’

“We’ve set up a tip line, and any agent you see on the street is happy to take your information. All arrests of the vigilantes will result in a possible reward.”

That gets everyone’s attention.

Astrid stands and pulls Quinn with her. “Come on. I’m done with this bullshit.”

He looks back down, thinking they should listen, but she’s already vanished in the overgrowth. The Task Force is declaring war; he doesn’t need to know much more than that.

He follows Astrid down the hill and back into the streets. She doesn’t slow once he catches up to her, but he lets her lead. She seems to know where she’s going and as soon as he spots the blue metal ladder, he realizes where they are.

The water tower, where they first kissed.

They climb up quickly, the old ladder clanking as they go. When they reach the top it’s cold, and the wind blows off the harbor in the distance. Astrid leans her back against the metal and stares out into the distance. From up here there’s no sign of the trouble below, everything is twinkly like starlight. Crescent City is beautiful. Just like the woman next to him.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she finally asks.

“You know I don’t.”

“Do you think I’m bossy and pushy and collecting Lost Boys for my own purposes?”

He stares at her for a minute, watching her hair blow and her gloved hands clench by her side. “Collecting seems like a harsh word.”

“Are we idiots for doing this?” He’s not sure what ‘this’ means, considering all the stuff she’s said. Does she mean him? Him and Owen? The work they’re doing? Somehow, he suspects this goes back to Draco. Maybe Casper. Quinn knows he can’t control those two. She’ll have to figure that out on her own time, but he is aware that he can assure her in his own way. He steps forward, peeling off his gloves.

He stashes them in his pocket and reaches one hand for her hip and another to her neck, sliding it under the warmth of her hair. Her blue-green eyes flash beneath her mask, daring him closer.

“We’re not idiots,” he tells her. “And we’re not wrong, and although you’re a little bossy and pushy, I like that, so don’t change.”

He blocks her from the wind, pushing his body against hers, and when his lips meet hers it’s just as powerful as the first time they were up here. Maybe more so, because now they’ve built something and it’s not based on just lust (although that’s running hot in his veins.) No, this is real, damn real, and she takes his breath away.

His lips trail down her neck and she sighs in his ear. When her fingers push under his jacket he realizes they’re bare, her gloves stashed away somewhere, and their intimacy doubles, triples, because touch—it’s like Astrid opening a door to herself, and it kick starts his heart.

“What’s that for?” she asks him. Her hand snakes up his shirt, fingers grazing over his nipple, and she splays her fingers flat over his heart.

“You,” he replies, as there’s no other answer. Her hips press into his and there’s no mistaking that she feels the other part of him turned on by her proximity. He pushes her into the metal wall.

The next few minutes are filled with the sound of their breathing and the rustle of leather. Quinn unzips the front of her jacket and slips his fingers under her tight tank. She shivers at his touch or maybe—“Too cold?”

“No, god no, my skin is burning.”

He laughs, but he understands; his entire body is on fire, hungry with want. His cock strains against the leather pants and when she touches him over the top, he groans. “I don’t think getting caught up here by a mob of angry citizens is going to help our case. Especially if we’re naked.”

“We don’t have to be totally naked,” she says into his ear. Her breath his hot and tickles his neck, making him laugh. Lifting his head, he takes her face in his and smiles.

“What?”

“I love that even in the middle of a crisis you’re willing to have fun. We need more fun in our life.”

“Dude, we just played bocce ball. We’re total partiers.”

Again, he laughs, but stops when he hears a beep in his ear and the screen on his mask flip on. He groans and Astrid sighs.

“What’s going on, Casper?” she says. Quinn zips up her jacket.

“I need you both back at the Lair.”

“What for?” Quinn adjusts his pants, knowing his hard-on won’t easily fade.

“I’ve got a hit on the terrorist threat.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. He shouldn’t. It’s dangerous information, too important to transmit over the frequency. With one last look over the illusion of a quiet city, they head back to the others.

Chapter Eighteen

Astrid

Casper is waiting for them when they return to the Lair. He’s patched Draco in, whose hair is sticking up on the side. He’d obviously been asleep. Quinn changes and rouses Owen, who also looks like a zombie.

“I hope it’s the end of the world. Otherwise, I don’t know why you’d wake me up like this,” he says, tucking his head in his hoodie and falling into a chair facing the computer wall.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Casper says. “At least not yet. But yeah, the intel I have is the kind that can level the entire city.”

That wakes both Draco and Owen up.

“I’ve been following some data in the dark web. This place is where the lowest of the lows dwell. It takes forever to get through the bullshit, government secrets, payoffs, black market trading. Don’t even get me into the perverted shit. You don’t want to know. What I discovered is that the Elites have become more and more of a topic in some of the forums.”

He clicks a few buttons and pulls up a variety of photos, articles, chat boxes. Echo at the fire. Charger fighting at the parade. Pan leading people to safety when the dragon crashed through the streets. There’s an image of Draco standing at the foot of the dragon, shield out. Astrid leans closer, trying to read the comments. Unsurprisingly, they’re varied, swinging from supportive to criminal.

“I’ve been tracking this content and removing any details that get close to your true identities and keeping an eye on the extra-nutjobs that seem to have a hard-on for you.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Owen mumbles.

“I do,” Draco says.

“It means Demetria’s antics and your involvement haven’t just caught the eye of the Mayor and Jensen. People all over the world are watching and a few are bad guys. Really bad.”

“Like a terrorist?”

He nods. “Two weeks ago, I made contact with someone nervous about a transaction they’d made. They’d been the middle-man with some explosive-grade material. I made nice, dug a little deeper, and found the electronic paper trail connecting back to one of your online detractors.”

“Good job, man,” Quinn says. “Do you have a name?”

“No names. This place is completely anonymous. But I got a date. October 17th. They made it clear it would be an event you wouldn’t miss.”

The number sounds familiar and Astrid glances at the others for help. Before she can speak, Draco pushes his hair with one hand. “The soccer match.”

Casper pulls up a digital version of the poster.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Owen says. “Even with Demetria locked away, we can’t have a public event without it turning into a crisis.”

“This is more than a crisis, Owen,” Draco says. “We’re talking about a catastrophic event.”

“Someone is going to bomb a stadium of fifty thousand people just to get to us? What kind of fucked-up plan is this?” Astrid asks.

“We don’t control the psychos, As,” Owen says, reaching for her hand. She can’t help but marvel over how someone touching her makes her feel better, not worse. So much good and bad has come from their finding each other.

“Maybe Jensen is right,” she says. “Maybe we step back. We’re causing more harm than good. We can let them take care of this.”

“And what? Book a vacation a thousand miles away on the day of the threat?” Casper asks.

Everyone stares at him, knowing he’s the least likely to go anywhere even with the threat of a terrorist event.

Quinn exhales. “Is that what you want to do? Step down? Give the appearance that we’re no longer an issue?”

“Disband?” Draco asks in a tight voice. “You’d have to make a public announcement.”

Owen adds, “Which means caving to Rowe.”

She clenches her jaw. “I’ll do it.”

“This is bullshit,” Casper laments, but she can tell by the set of his jaw and shoulders, he’s resigned, too. That’s when she realizes she’s making a choice for all of them, not just herself.

“I think it’s the right thing to do,” she tells them. “But we’re a team. I don’t get to make the decision unilaterally.”

“She’s right,” Draco says. “My biggest regret is not stopping Demetria. If we have the opportunity to save people by not going out there, we need to do it.”

He may be across the city but Astrid feels his emotions right in the room. He gets it.

Quinn nods his agreement and Owen sighs dramatically but says, “Fine. But I’m not quitting the recruitment program. I’ve worked too hard.”

“You don’t have to,” she says, squeezing his hand. “And you’re crushing it.”

“So, what’s next?”

“I also have to tell someone about what’s coming. Give them a chance to stop it,” she says. “Do you have any actual proof, Casper?”

The grim set of his mouth gives the answer to that. Astrid’s not entirely sure how Casper’s gift works, but he manipulates computers the way she handles emotions. It’s instinct. Same with the others. It’s built into their system and although his intel is probably completely accurate, there’s no way to hand over proof to the authorities.

Astrid sighs. “I’ll deal with it.”

“How? Jensen?” Quinn asks.

“He may be a little pissed at me right now but he’ll believe me, especially when I tell him I’m quitting.”

The words ring hollow in her chest, and looking around the room at the men who have supported her unconditionally, she’s never felt so alone.

*

It’s three a.m. when they leave the Lair. Draco and Casper blip off the screen. Owen heads straight back to bed, catching whatever sleep he can before training in the morning.

Harry meets her at her bedroom door and she picks him up, pressing her nose into his soft head. He purrs in reply until he grows bored and jumps from her arms and vanishes into Owen’s room.

That makes her laugh.

“Only a cat picks the person that hates him the most to snuggle with.” She leans against the wall and looks up at Quinn. “This has been a stupid, crazy day.”

“Tomorrow will be better.”

“It’s already tomorrow. I may have to wait one more for things to settle down.”

Quinn’s scent changes at the same time his eyes dilate and he reaches for her. When his mouth crashes into hers, it’s like she relaxes for the first time in hours. All the pent-up anger and stress fell away under his touch. He guides her into her room, stepping over the shoes and laundry piled on the floor, knocking over an empty bottle of soda until her knees hit the edge of the bed. He kisses his way down her jaw, working his way to her lips. Pushing at his shirt, she lifts it over his head, revealing his muscled chest and abs.

“I do not get tired of seeing this,” she says, running her hands over his smooth skin. He shivers and claims her mouth again, while her hands wander, exploring the line of hair beneath his belly button. He gasps and she laughs into his mouth.

He retaliates by removing her shirt in a hard yank over her head, then taking his time with her pants, tugging them down inch by inch, kissing every spot of her skin before dropping lower. By the time he’s pulled them over her feet her body is on fire and his heart thunders. Astrid’s races to match it. When he pushes her back on the bed and climbs over her body, their skin feels electric. She doesn’t know if it’s him, and what he can do, but he ignites something within her that she can’t resist.

His tongue teases her skin, running over the curve of her breast, lingering on her nipple. She runs her fingers into the soft fringe of his hair, tugging him closer. She wants to feel his weight and wraps her legs around him, using her heels to push off his shorts.

“Impatient much?” He snorts and helps when the fabric gets caught on his erection.

“You know it’s my one true weakness.” On the street, that’s true. In bed, there are probably more. Seeing his cock hard and ready makes her knees weak and stomach churn with want.

His fingers trail down her thighs, nudging them apart, feeling the dampness between her legs. Taking a chance, she reaches for him, stroking the soft tip of his cock with her thumb. In reaction he pulls her to him, dragging her hips down the bed. A grunt makes her smile and he doesn’t wait any longer, entering her in one quick move.

Different men fuck differently, or so she’s learned over the last few weeks. Owen is silly, horny and all in. Quinn, like with everything else, brings a level of intensity. He’s confident. Assured. He always treats her like an equal, in the ring or in the bed (sometimes that’s the same thing) but tonight he thrusts slowly and kisses the sensitive skin next to her ear. His quiet voice whispers little thoughts and she has no problem hearing him, not even over the sound of her ragged breathing. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, don’t second guess yourself. You’re not alone. His fingers link with hers and she’s caught by the blast of his echo. A ripple rolls through her body, unsteady and trembling with a flash of blinding, hot energy.

Her back arches and his thumbs dig into her hips, eyes meeting in the middle of it all. She’s coming when it hits her, what the energy is, what the feeling amounts to, why it’s so much more than every other time, why she feels it in her gut and heart.

His grunts turn erratic, his body hammers into hers and she’s lost to the feelings crashing over her. His thoughts, his words—spoken and unspoken—dance in her mind, and he kisses her at the same time he fills her body with his seed.

Quinn loves her, she thinks, cresting over the wave. Truly loves her, there’s not a single doubt in her mind or body, and instead of that being the most terrifying thing about the day, it’s the best.

Chapter Nineteen

Astrid

The announcement is scheduled for nine a.m. She’ll be finished by 9:07. Dressed in her full suit, she refuses to answer questions, even though the press has many. The conference is held on the steps of City Hall and informs Crescent City that she and her team will step down.

“For the sake of the city, we realize that more harm is being done than good. In an effort to maintain peace and safety, we will no longer patrol the streets or assist the community. The mayor’s Task Force is sufficient.”

The final words barely come past her grinding teeth.

Back at the Lair, she knows this may be the final time she puts on the leather suit. Her cuffs and mask rest secure on their stand. She hopes Atticus understands she’s doing this for the right reason.

Distraction comes easily and she takes out her frustration on the recruits. They run through the parkour gauntlet, each trying to better their time and skills. Owen is doing pretty well; he’s not the leader of the pack, but close. That title goes to a woman named Clarissa Taylor. She’s six feet tall, face like a supermodel, made of solid muscle and disturbingly fast. She’ll be the number one choice out of the recruiting class. Jensen will be thrilled.

Speaking of, the agent strides across the gym floor. He obviously got her call.

“Came to see the recruits?” she asks.

“You know that’s not why I’m here.” His eyes skim the participants anyway. He lingers on Owen, longer than a heartbeat, but she knows his disguise manipulation works. He glances at her. “I think we need to talk.”

She nods at Mick, who is helping the recruits, handing him the score sheet and pencil. They head to the office.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Astrid,” Jensen says from the seat across from hers. “You’re stubborn and determined, a little naïve at times, but you’re not a quitter. If you were, you’d still be wearing that pink hat.”

“I’m not quitting because I want to, Jensen. I’m quitting because the threat is too great. My actions have placed a target on the city.” She eyes him. “Why are you worried about it? I gave you the intel and told you my team is backing off. You should be happy.”

“I am,” he says. “Suspicious, but happy you’ll be safe.”

“Did you give Rowe the details?”

“Yes.” He rubs his chin. “It wasn’t much to go on.”

“You guys have to decide if it’s credible but my gut tells me this is real. If it were up to me, I’d cancel the soccer match. Claim some problem with the stadium or whatever. Anything to keep people out of there that night.”

He exhales. “I’ll try with the Mayor but he’s more stubborn than you are. And you still won’t tell me who your source is? That may encourage him.”

“Nope.” She gives him a tight smile. “Can’t. Sorry.”

Astrid feels a piece of tension drain out of Jensen. He was worried about her, no doubt about that, and for all their head-butting, she can’t fault him for caring. “Let me know if you hear anything else, okay?”

“I will, but part of being out of the game is being fully out of it. You can’t have it both ways.”

He stands and holds out his arms. She steps into them and they embrace. “Atticus would be proud of you, got it?”

“Yeah,” she says, fighting back the tears. She doesn’t think this is how he would have liked for her to end her time as Echo, but he never would have wanted her to risk her life.

“So,” he says, pulling away. “What are you going to do with all your free time, now that you’re not patrolling the city?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to her but the memory of being with Quinn last night and the visual of Owen’s ripped body out on the parkour run flits through her mind. “I have a feeling I’ll stay busy.”

Chapter Twenty

Owen

There’s an agreement in the house that they need to keep busy, away from the news and off the streets. Astrid’s been doing this long enough that separating herself from Echo is a challenge.

“Kill that guy!” Astrid yells at Quinn. He’s playing a video game with Casper while bossing him from the sidelines. She’s covered head to toe, a sign of her anxiety. Cat hat on her head, gloved hands in her hoodie pocket. He wants to cuddle her like a teddy bear but Harry has planted himself in her lap, and even though they are (reluctant) buddies now, he’s not brave enough to move him.

Draco sits on the floor, digging through the books on the shelf. When they moved up here, they all combined their libraries. It’s a mixture of workout books, comics, romance novels, and engineering. The bulky guy awkwardly flips through a comic book with a busty red-head on the front. Owen isn’t sure he really wanted to come but Quinn asked him to have dinner—help Astrid adjust to her new life. He agreed and showed up with four boxes of pizza and a case of beer.

“Hey Draco,” Quinn says from the couch, “who was your roommate at the group home?”

“I didn’t have one.”

“What?” Owen perks up. “How did you manage that?”

He shrugs. “Guess Miss Rosalie liked me.”

Owen grumbles. “It took me a while to remember mine, you know, with the memory loss, but it finally came to me. It was a kid named Sebastian.”

“Oh, Sea Bass,” Quinn says. “I remember him. Small, big ears.”

“Yeah. He was younger. Cried a lot. It drove me batshit.”

“Of course it did,” Quinn says. “You’ve got a heart of stone.”

“Not true,” Owen says, darting his eyes at Astrid. She laughs. “You think so too?”

“As someone with empathic abilities, you’re not always the most sympathetic.”

“Ugh,” he runs his hand through his hair. “Just so much crying. I mean, sure I feel bad about it now. He was just a freaked-out little kid.”

“What could he do?” Draco asks. “What was his gift?”

Owen shakes his head. “Not sure.”

“What about you?” Draco looks at Quinn. “Who was your roommate?”

“A kid named Rex. African-American? He was only there for a few weeks before shit hit the fan.”

“I remember him,” Astrid says. “African-American? Dark skin and big eyes? He had a scar over his eye.”

“Yeah, his parents died in a bridge collapse. He survived.”

“Really?” Draco asks, intrigued. “How many survivors?”

“Just him.”

They all understand the implication of that. Rex must have been very powerful.

“Do you wonder how many others are out there? We didn’t know about Blaze. He wasn’t on Atticus’s list.”

“It freaks me out to think about it,” Owen confesses. “We don’t even know where Blaze was that whole time. Who he was with.”

Other than the video game, the room grows quiet thinking about it.

Astrid unscrews the lid of her Mountain Dew and tosses it on the table. It bounces off and skitters across the floor. Harry perks up and watches it roll away, assessing if it’s worth his time to investigate.

With the flick of a hand Owen shifts the green lid into a little green mouse. Four legs, a pointy nose, and a long tail. He wiggles his fingers, forcing the animal to move. Harry moves to a sitting position, ears alert. He’s definitely interested.

Amused, Owen forces the mouse to skitter along the floor, dashing back and forth to keep Harry’s attention. The cat watches for a moment, hunching down in Astrid’s lap. She’s not paying attention, too busy yelling at Quinn to “kill the fucking dragon” but when Harry Styles leaps off her lap to attack the make-believe mouse, the entire room watches wide-eyed.

“Are you harassing my cat?” Astrid asks, watching the cat play.

“Just having a little fun.” He shrugs. “What? You don’t ever just use your gift to mess around?”

“No.” She and Quinn answer at the same time.

“Seriously?” He looks at Quinn. “You’ve never just lit a match or a candle?”

“Well,” he glances at Astrid. “Okay maybe. But that’s not messing around. It’s practical.”

Owen rolls his eyes. He picks up his beer bottle and gestures at Draco. “What about you? Woo the women at the park saving their kids? Flash those perfect teeth and muscles for a free dinner?”

“I, uh.” He shifts uncomfortably.

“You’ve never paid for a drink in a bar in your life, have you?” Astrid asks.

“They just appear! It’s not like I want them to send them over, but then it seems rude to refuse it.” He blushes and Astrid cackles in delight seeing him so flustered. “I never took advantage of anyone, though.”

“Just their booze.”

He smirks and lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

Owen turns to Astrid. “What about you? You’ve never screwed with someone’s emotions just for kicks?”

The look she gives him is one of absolute horror. “I would never. That’s like a violation of ethics or something.”

Casper, who has apparently been listening this whole time, says, “Wait, we have an ethical code?”

“Dude,” Quinn says. “You’ve looked all of us up, haven’t you?”

“Social security numbers, medical, banking…” When everyone shouts out in horror, he adds, “It was part of my job to find you!”

Owen leans back in his seat, enjoying the commotion. “Okay well, I say before the night is over everyone has to do one trick. Something big.”

“I don’t want to be accused of violating anyone,” Astrid says, shooting a look at Casper. The two of them can do the most emotional damage.

“We all have to agree—anything goes. As long as no one gets hurt—”

“Or blown up,” Draco says, eyeing Quinn. He nods in agreement.

“I’m in,” Casper says.

“Of course you are, you aren’t even here!”

“I can still play.”

“What about you?” Owen asks Draco.

“If you all want to buy me beer, I’m good with it. I’m just not sure what I can do.”

“That makes you our pawn,” Astrid says. “You willing to take that risk?”

They stare at one another for a moment and Owen gets the sense that the stakes have just been raised.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing the last part of his beer, “I’ll play.”

Quinn stands. “I’m game but we need to move to the training room.” Owen smiles, rubbing his hands together, and Quinn glares at him. “No snakes.”

“I promise.” Owen has something way better than snakes in mind, and he hops off the couch and follows the others down the hall for a little fun.

*

At the door he stops the group and says, “I’m not going to be a dick, okay? No mice. No snakes. Just a little happiness to get us through the night. Sorry dude,” he tells Casper. “This is one experiment you have to be here to experience.”

The goblin scowls and blinks out.

“I’ve been telling him to get out of that bunker,” Astrid says with a shrug to Draco.

Owen opens the door and steps in first. With his eyes shut, he thinks about where he wants to be and he hears the small rip in the fabric of reality, and slowly it begins to spread.

“What is that?” Draco asks, having never seen him do this.

Owen hears Astrid reply. “That leads to another place.”

“He better be serious about no snakes because I will bomb this place.”

Astrid’s laughter tickles his senses and he opens his eyes. “Follow me.”

“Through that?” Quinn asks nervously.

Owen goes first, feeling the ripple of energy over his skin as he bends the physics of time and space. He’s been working on this more and more after the dragon with Demetria. Sure, he got the parade-goers to safety, but it was nothing more than lights and a warm glow. With this skill he can actually get people out of danger. He never wants to feel that scared again.

Astrid doesn’t hesitate. Just steps through and follows him. A smile lights up her face. She marvels at the soft sand squishing under her feet. Astrid removes her socks, and when Draco crosses over he looks up. A million stars dot the night sky and the sliver of a moon hangs among them.

“Real or not real?” Mr. Perfect asks over the roar of the ocean.

“Real enough,” he replies. “I read an article about this place. An island off of Fiji.”

“You thought it, opened a door and here we are?”

“Pretty cool huh?”

The article he read was a resort, and although the beach is empty, lounge chairs surround a fire pit. Torches are staked into the sand. Thick blankets hang over the backs of the chairs. Owen nods at Quinn.

The man stands in front of the fire pit but stretches his arms wide. There’s a pop and the strong scent of sulfur as a dozen torches light in a flash. His final move is to snap toward the pit and a blazing fire appears.

“That was pretty cool,” Owen says, feeling the heat from the flames. Combining their gifts is epic.

“What about you?” he asks Astrid. The gentle breeze rolling off the ocean blows her blonde hair, and what he’d give for her to be in a bikini right now. A vision he never knew he needed until this very moment.

He trusts this woman, on the street and off, but the glint in her eye makes him nervous and he wonders what the hell he’s gotten them all into.

Chapter Twenty-One

Astrid

“I still don’t feel right manipulating your emotions. It’s too personal.” She studies the three of them and Owen shifts nervously in his seat.

Owen sits in one of the soft lounge chairs and rests his hands behind his head. “Add to it, bring on those happy, pleasant holiday feelings.”

“He’s right,” Quinn says. “All I want on vacation is to relax and have a good time. Holden and I went to the beach when I was about fifteen and together we built a huge sandcastle. It had tunnels and moats and we decorated it with shells we found on the beach. It was pretty awesome.”

She feels the warm glow of the memory and latches onto it.

“Okay, so, fun time at the beach. I can do that.” With a twist, she thinks. Owen eyes track her every move. There’s zero doubt that he’s always hungry for her and she always feels it. But this isn’t about fulfilling his sex fantasy, although she could if she wanted. Nope, this is about exploring their gifts, having fun and messing with each other. She may not be a snake, but she can still bite.

With her bare hand she touches his cheek and feels an instant shift in Owen’s emotions—the constant horniness vanishes.

He looks at her, at her chest, her legs, and her gorgeous face and feels nothing.

“Hey!” he cries. “What did you do?”

She shrugs. “Just testing the waters.”

“So what? You took away my hormones?” His eyes are a little panicked. She’s done nothing to him but wipe away his feelings for her. He hops out of his seat. “And why do I have all this energy?”

She ignores him and walks over and grabs Quinn’s hand. He doesn’t fight when she drags him over to where Owen now stands. She takes his hand too and channels a rush of emotions into both of them. The two men look past her and at each other. Both have wide smiles on their faces, two seconds later they’ve pushed her out of the way and are alternatingly hugging and play fighting.

“What did you do to them?” Draco asks.

“I just shifted things around a little.”

He watches the two men crumble into giggles. “Are they…”

She knows where he’s going. “Oh, they’re not into each other.”

“Like brothers. Twelve-year-olds. They really, really like each other.” The two laugh and share some kind of inside joke. Then one tosses sand at the other and they race down the beach.

“That’s pretty impressive.”

“Thanks.” She sits on the edge of the fire pit and he follows. The heat warms her back but it feels nice, a contrast to the breeze coming off the ocean. “I know the two of them were hoping I’d go sex-goddess orgy on them but eh, this is more fun.”

“You let them treat you like that? A sex object?”

She turns to look at him. His jaw is more defined in the firelight. “Is that what you think goes on between us? That I’m some toy for them?” Guilt consumes him but she’s not angry. If anything, she feels a little more sympathetic to his reaction at his house. “Let me make it clear. They are not using me, not in any way, and our relationship isn’t something any of us jumped into. It developed slowly and is constantly evolving. The three of us are in this together. We’re open and safe. Honestly, it’s a lot like our bond on the street. We have each other’s backs. We fight hard and then come home and love hard.”

She’d never defended their relationship out loud before. She’s never even defined it, but if the softening of Draco’s expression says anything, she did a good job.

“Thank you for explaining it. I’m not trying to be a judgmental ass. It’s just new and even if my actions don’t always show it, I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Those two aren’t going to hurt me.” She holds up her pinkie. “I’ve got them wrapped up tight.”

He laughs. “I bet you do.”

“But listen,” she says to him. “I don’t judge you either for holding back. Sharing, as you say, isn’t for everyone. We’re strong and we’d welcome you into the group, but only if you want. It’s your decision.”

The tic returns in his jaw and she wonders if she lost him again. He looks down at his hand and in a quiet voice says, “I’m not sure I can push through my concerns on this one. What I want and what my mind say are warring. That’s hard for me.” His eyes find hers. “Like it goes against my nature.”

“Mr. Perfect, you are so complex.” She reaches for his hand and says, “May I?”

His everything is guarded. His face, his mind, his body. The shield has gone up but if he’ll let her, Astrid can try to chip away. She holds back her elation when he places his hand on hers.

Astrid doesn’t read his echo. She’s done that. She knows him, but what she wants to do is release him for just a moment from his mental binds. Standing, she makes a bold move, straddling his lap. His apprehension is clear, even out on this fantasy beach. She feels his hand grip her hip and the tightening in his pants. Swallowing, she places her hand on his cheek and closes her eyes, pushing past the layers holding him together.

The images in his mind are strong, she’s not here to read his echo but damn if it doesn’t want to be heard. At least the parts about her. God, he wants her. All the time. But it’s not just physical. It’s emotional, and that’s where the fear lies.

She uses her empathy against him, pushing back with the bond she has with Owen and Quinn. Those emotions are stronger than anything she’s ever experienced; all-consuming, and if the love, laughter, and connection they share can’t break Draco, then nothing will.

The slightest stirring vibrates against her gift, the thinnest crack, and she doesn’t hesitate to exploit it. His chest heaves against hers and his fingers dig into her skin. She feels his breath against her lips and she dives in one last time.

It’s unnecessary, Draco is already on the cusp and she’s barely pushed through the break when his mouth crashes into hers. The first hit tastes like birthday cake, sweet and sugary, and it drives her to kiss back. She grinds against his lap, craving the pressure. His hands are strong, needy, and her body melts. The want blossoms in her belly, expands through her limbs, and comes out through her empathy in a soul-crushing collision.

“I didn’t know,” he mutters, pulling her against his erection. Everything is already so heightened that it doesn’t matter if there’s layers of fabric between them. The pressure feels good and he tastes fantastic and the cool breeze tingles against her damp skin when he trails kisses down her throat. She’s pretty sure if he keeps doing that, she’ll come despite the barrier. From the way he’s breathing, she’s pretty sure he may too.

“Didn’t know what?”

He holds her face between his hands and captures her eyes with his own. “What I was missing.”

“You may not feel the same when this is all over, but understand I’m waiting for you, got it? Because now that I’ve tasted and felt you, I’m not giving up so easily.”

He drops his forehead to hers, their lips inches apart. Yelps down the beach break the moment. The edges of their world start to fade, the room ripples and slowly the beach, the fires, the roaring ocean all vanishes.

They’re back in the training room; Quinn and Owen standing near the wall, breathing heavy. They eye her and Draco suspiciously since they are curled into one another in the middle of the floor. After a long, awkward pause, he helps her extract herself from his lap. She pretends his cock isn’t still pressing hard against her as she comes to her senses.

“We never left?” she asks, completely bewildered.

Owen rubs his hands together. “All an illusion. Pretty good, huh?”

“That was insane.” Quinn says, brushing his arms. “I feel like I still have sand on me.”

“But what about everything else in there? Quinn making fire…” she doesn’t put a name on what happened with her and Draco.

He shrugs. “I’m not in charge of everyone else’s gift.”

One thing that’s evident is how exhausted they all are, and soon Owen and Quinn head to bed. Astrid walks Draco to the door, scooping up Harry along the way. He makes a good buffer, purring and snuggling in her arms.

“Sorry if I crossed any lines tonight,” she says.

“If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I’m stronger than some hormonal teenager unable to control himself.”

“Dude, I probed your brain and I’m pretty good at it.”

He smiles and it warms her heart. She doesn’t want to start back at the beginning with Draco. She can take it slow, give him time, but start at ground zero? Nope. Not happening.

“You’re really good at it,” he agrees. “And you’re a great leader, Astrid. I know things are rocky right now but I have no doubt we’ll be back on the streets helping people.”

“Why are you so sure?”

He shrugs but his lips are warm when he kisses her cheek and exits the dormitory. What he doesn’t say, and what she feels in her heart, is that Draco has faith in her. In their mission, and maybe he’s coming closer to wanting to share more. She hopes that all of that is true.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Draco

The trail pounds under his feet, dark soil with crumbling rocks. The higher he goes, the steeper the incline, the better chance to feel his calves burn. He climbs and climbs, keeping a jog the whole time, easily balancing on the rocky terrain.

There’s no maxing out athletically for Draco. He learned that at fifteen when he freaked out every man in the gym, adding weight after weight to the bar. Eventually he faked being worn out, wobbling his arms with false fatigue, realizing he’d gone too far. Exposed way too much. Emma tucked him onto a plane the following day with explicit instructions never to reveal himself like that again.

Since then, he’s trained on his own. It’s not about gaining speed or strength. He was born with that and given a boost by Project 12 to amplify what was already there. No, rather, he runs, lifts, climbs, races, and puts himself through the ringer every day to keep himself sane.

And after that encounter with Astrid the night before, he needs to clear his mind more than ever. At the very top of the hill he stops and strips off his long-sleeved shirt and looks out over Crescent City, skimming the horizon toward the harbor. It’s beautiful from up here but it doesn’t take his mind off of Astrid like he’d wanted. No, it simply gave him more time to think about her.

The woman has obliterated his world, his values, and everything he thought he knew about himself. She’s unconventional, strong, dedicated, and absolutely the hottest woman he’s ever encountered. Draco can barely reconcile the little girl with the tight hats and gloves from the group home with the sexy woman. Every day his urges grow stronger, and his resolve weakens.

And that kiss.

Goddamn, that kiss. He runs his hand over his sweaty face. He can still feel the heat of her lips against his and his groin tightens, again.

He’s been in a constant state of semi-erection for twelve hours now.

He wasn’t lying when he told her he wouldn’t share. He also meant it when he asked about her being a sex object for the other men. The thought of her being used brought out a primal, furious rage. But when she peeled back his shield and he got a good look at what was in her heart, he understood. She’s in control of this situation. She’s in control of herself—something she no doubt learned over the years of handling her gift. His doubt of her was the offense.

He should probably apologize again about the sex object statement. The sharing thing? Well, he’s still coming to terms with that idea.

The vibration on his watch tells him it’s time to get moving. He’s got an appointment to go see Demetria later today and a stack of WIND-E paperwork to go through. He already misses the idea of patrolling the city with the team, and the part of his brain he listens to—the one accentuated by his gifts—tells him they shouldn’t stray too far from their mission. Sometimes the bad guys need something a little bigger to stop them, and Draco’s not sure the Task Force is up to the job.

*

Showered, dressed, and lingering over his home office desk for the files he needs, Draco hears the screen behind him ding, and he turns to face Casper. The cyber hacker looks like he’s been up all night. He knows he didn’t appreciate being excluded the night before, but that’s a consequence of his situation.

“Hey,” Draco says, picking up the files. “What’s going on?”

“Ass-deep in the dark web.”

“Thought we agreed to back off of that.”

“I didn’t agree to shit. Astrid had to make her choice, but it’s been made perfectly clear I’m on the fringe of the group. They only call me when they need me.”

Draco sighs and sits on the edge of the desk. “I’m not sure that’s a fair comment.”

“It doesn’t have to be fair. It’s true.”

“Casper, you won’t leave the bunker. The rest of us are living our lives out here and we want you to be part of it.”

“You know that’s not possible.”

“I don’t know that. What I do know is that you’re stubborn and scared.”

He laughs. “Pot meet kettle.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“I know what’s going on between you and Astrid. I hear things—catch vibes—even from my limited distance. She wants you and you definitely want her, but you’re too scared to meet on her terms.”

Once again, Casper drops a truth bomb. How does the little bastard do it?

Draco crosses his arms and says, “Then how do we change that? I mean, we’re strong, genetically superior beings. You’re wicked smart and I’m, well,” he waves his hands down his body. No need to be modest. “How did this one woman get us so tied up?”

Casper thinks about it for a second. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe she’s supposed to tie us up to make us better.”

Draco already know this is true. He’s felt it, but it requires a buy-in from him that he has to be willing to give. He stares at Casper for so long that the guy says, “What are you looking at?”

“You’re onto something—about both of us. It’s time for us to push aside our fears.”

“And then what?” There’s no mistaking the nerves in his automated voice.

“Then maybe we’ll fill that hole in our chest that’s been there since we were kids.”

Draco takes one last look at Casper before leaving the office, but there’s no doubt the hacker knows exactly what he’s talking about, and they both know it’s time to fix it or lose out on the opportunity of their lifetime.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Astrid

“Have you seen Luby?” Astrid asks Mick as she walks up to the gym’s main desk. It’s been two days since the kid showed up to work. She’s aware he has to look after his grandmother, but whenever he’s missed before, he’s at least texted.

“Nope. No calls. I even checked the email.”

She snorts. “You know he’s not going to email.”

“Maybe he left us a tag on the 6th Street bridge?”

She raises an eyebrow. Maybe. Part of her worry is being off the streets. Her team decided to cut off all information including the scanner, news, and other details. She’s sure Casper is still tracking stuff, but he’s not saying anything. But being out of the loop is making her anxious.

She heads to the back office and grabs her jacket. Owen sits at the desk, going over footage of his training today. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

He narrows his eyes. “What kind of walk?”

“The I-need-some-fresh-air kind of walk. Is that a problem?” She pulls a hat over her head, covering her ears.

“I’ll go with you. I really should stretch my legs after that session today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he agrees, sliding his arms into his own coat. He pulls a black beanie over his blond hair. “But spending time with you is never a chore. Come on.”

She feels the worry on him, but it’s tempered with confusion. She’s not trying to go out in her suit, which means she’s not breaking their agreement, but he also can sense she’s got ulterior motives.

He follows her out the back door and into the street. Fall is in full swing, Halloween just a few weeks away. The thought makes her say, “I’m really glad Demetria is locked up for Halloween. Can you imagine?”

He shakes his head and the grimace on his face is too real. “Total nightmare.”

“Too bad our alternative bad guy is a terrorist.”

“It’s killing you not to help, isn’t it?” he asks.

She walks through the iron gates into the park. “It’s not bothering you?”

“I don’t like being forced onto the sidelines, but things were getting a little intense. If Jensen and his team want to tackle this with better resources, I’m okay with that.”

She doesn’t want to admit he’s right. They don’t have the resources, other than Casper, to track or stop a terrorist.

“What I don’t like,” she says, passing the gazebo in the middle of the park. A pole with community events tacked to the side is next to it. A poster for the soccer match hangs in the middle. It’s in three days. “Is that no one has called off the game. Why would they put so many people in danger?”

“Maybe it’s more complicated than that. Maybe they’re trying to trap the guy, or they’ve already caught him.”

She grunts, not liking it one bit, but she agreed to this and she has to accept it. Nudging him toward the eastern path, they exit the park a few blocks away from the Swamp.

“Where are we really headed?” Owen asks. They’re not too far from his house.

“I’m worried about Luby.”

He nods. “I noticed he wasn’t around.”

Astrid feels self-conscious without her suit, but she’s also out of place in the neighborhood in her regular clothes. What’s a girl like her doing roaming around this part of town? They get a few glances from kids hanging out on the street corners and twice Owen tosses up a shield, hiding them from Task Force patrols.

“How are we going in?” Owen asks when they reach the front gate of the housing project. The “guards” checking people in and out of the apartment are really just drug runners controlling the flow of visitors.

“Usually I go over the back wall. But I’m wearing a disguise.”

He glances over at the guards. “I still think the back wall may be the right way to go in.”

Agreeing, Astrid leads him around the back. She finds the spot she’s used before; grooves in the stone wall make perfect foot holds. Her gloves don’t have the rubber grips but her upper body strength is enough to get her to the top. Just as she’s cleared the top she pulls back, almost toppling.

“Shit,” she says, holding on to the edge.

“What?”

“There’s barbed wire up here. It’s new.”

“What’s that for?” Owen asks from down below. “To keep people in or out?”

“Hell if I know.” There’s no way for her to get over like this—not in regular clothing. The fabric on her suit could resist the barbs but not the cotton pants she’s wearing right now. She’d shred her legs. Turning around, she looks down at Owen, who is no longer looking at her. He tosses up a hand, a move she’s come to know for shielding, and she steadies herself. Even Owen’s shield won’t help if she falls.

She hears the heavy boots the Task Force members wear. Two voices bounce off the stone wall. One male, one female.

“Not sure I get why we have to patrol this community? Other than the petty bullshit that goes on down here, there’s nothing major going on.”

“I agree that it seems like a waste of skills,” the other voice replies. Astrid recognizes the female. One of her recruits. “But the mayor wants this area contained and for us to keep an eye out for the vigilantes. He’s convinced some of their intel comes from sympathizers in the complex.”

“Is that why they beat down on that kid the other night?” the male asks.

Astrid straightens. Beat down? Below, Owen flattens himself against the wall.

“He was involved in the property damage with Kincade. She helped get him out.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s just what I was told. He was compromised. It’s not a surprise they eliminated him.”

Fear seizes Astrid.

“They killed him?” the guy asks.

“No, but he’s in the hospital. I doubt he’ll rub elbows with them again.”

The two guards keep walking and once they’re around the corner, Astrid drops down and lands next to Owen with a soft thud. He glances at her. “I’m sure you heard that.”

“Yep.” She’s already walking off.

“You think they’re talking about Luby?”

“Yes.” Her fists ball in rage and she picks up her pace. The hospital is three miles away. She reaches for her com, realizing she doesn’t have one. Dammit. “This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I reached out to him. More than once. I also backed off when I shouldn’t have. The Task Force doesn’t care about these people. They’re just lackeys for the mayor and whatever his stupid agenda is.”

“What is his agenda?” Owen asks, hand on her arm.

“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine Jensen is behind harming kids from the Swamp. After we check on Luby, I’m going to find out.”

*

The strong scent of antiseptic stings Astrid’s nostrils and she steadies herself.

“I know,” Owen says before she can speak. “I don’t like doctors or hospitals or needles either.”

Project 12 made that impossible.

Astrid did get ahold of Casper via phone and he got her everything she needed from the hospital. Luby didn’t need anyone knowing they’d come to check on him. Not the nurses or doctors. Especially not the mayor, who seems to have a long reach.

Using Casper’s directions, they find Luby’s room quickly. He’s propped in a bed, his pale face bruised. He turns when she walks in but there’s not much of a reaction.

“Hey,” she says, approaching the bed. His arm is in a cast. His left arm, thankfully. He paints with his right. “We got here as soon as we found out. Mick and Quinn will be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?”

The kid winces when he swallows. “I think I’ve already talked too much. You probably should go.”

His eye is swollen shut. Whoever got him did a number on him. “This was about me? How?”

“Not about you, but my ‘hood doesn’t take to snitches lightly. Apparently, the wrong people found out about my relationship with Echo. They started following me back and forth to work. Your man Rowe must have seen me that day you made a fool of him in the gym.”

She reaches for his hand but Owen holds her back. He’s right. Luby trembles with fear and rage. His pain radiates above everything else.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sure Echo is, too. She never wanted people to get hurt like this.”

“Yeah,” he says, glancing at the blank TV hanging on the wall. “That’s the Swamp. They keep you down. There’s no getting out. Ask my grandma. Ask my ma. They lived there their entire lives, working to escape. There is no escape,” he says, “other than in the back of a police car or an ambulance.”

“Man, don’t think that,” Owen says. “This is a shitty situation, but you’re smart and talented.”

Tears brim in Luby’s eyes. Owen’s assurances do nothing to make him feel better. A wave of dark, depressing emotions crash into Astrid and she grabs onto Owen’s arm to stay upright.

“Where’s your grandmother?” she asks.

“Took her away. Some old folks’ home or something. They won’t tell me.”

“We’ll find out, okay?”

“Don’t,” he says. His dark eyes meet hers. They’re pleading. “Stay away from me and my family. Help from outsiders only causes more trouble.”

“Okay,” Astrid reluctantly agrees. “I understand, but be careful, and if you need me, you know where to find me.”

He turns his eyes back to the TV and clicks it on with the remote. The sound of cartoons fills the room.  There’s nothing left to say and whatever she could, he’s not going to listen. They step into the hallway.

“I’m going to kill him,” she says, once the door is closed.

“Who?”

“Rowe,” she replies through clenched teeth. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’m taking that bastard down.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Astrid

The gas station only has one car at the pumps, an older gray Honda. The driver is a teenage girl and Astrid passes by her to park near the dumpster. Jensen’s black SUV idles in the spot next to hers. She gets out of her car and gets into his.

“Why the cloak and dagger?” he asks.

“Because I don’t trust your men and I don’t want to be seen with you at the agency.”

A line creases his forehead. “Did something happen?”

“Luby was attacked. He’s in the hospital. He says Rowe did it in retaliation for working with Echo and the Elites.”

The anguish on his face is indescribable. “I’ll deal with it.”

Unacceptable. “I was told backing away from the Swamp would make people safer, but that was a lie. Rowe is out of control and if you don’t manage him, I will.”

Jensen reaches across the center console and grabs my arm. “No. Before, I gave you a chance. Now? I’m insisting. Stay out of it, Astrid.”

She looks at where his hand touches her skin. It’s not palm-to-palm but she can sense his emotions. He’s terrified. Angry.  “I will not let him hurt people.”

“It’s under control.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also not the truth. There’s something more brimming under Jensen’s surface.

“Hell no it isn’t. You need my help.”

“Astrid,” he says. She’s never seen him so flustered. “This is bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. But do not fuck it up. Walk away. I can’t protect you from what’s coming.”

“The terrorists?”

His eyes tell her there’s more. So much more.

And that’s when the trigger flips.

Her reflexes are fast and she grabs his hand, doing something she never had the guts to do before. She pushes past that first blast of fear to the top layer.

Rowe, the mayor, Kincade, Blaze. Jensen met with them all.

Blaze? How? Why? She grinds her teeth, fighting the betrayal, and digs deeper, past the mundane, to the buried truth. She rocks back when she finds it.

White house with a wide porch. Black SUV. Little faces. Blonde hair. Hats, coats. Kitty cat. Needles. Tests. Fire.

She takes his hand in both of hers, holding on as he tries to twist away.

“You were there,” she says, the images flooding her brain. The doctor that pricked her skin. Atticus, young and in a suit. Holden. Emma. Faces flash before her. Less gray hair. Fewer lines on their faces. Feeling the heat of the explosion. She recoils, yanking her hands away. “You knew everything.”

He looks helpless. Lost. The whole charade of their lives is crumbling. “You’re not my friend. You’re one of them.”

“Astrid, look, it’s a complex situation.”

“Did you kill him?” she asks, reaching for his arm again. He pulls back and she sees the flash of metal. His gun. “You killed Atticus, didn’t you? It was someone he knew.” Her hands start to shake and her emotions roll over the both of them like a tidal wave. The car vibrates, creaking and groaning beneath him.

“I didn’t kill him. You don’t understand. I’ll tell you everything, but you have to calm down.”

White rage blinds her and she covers her ears with her hands. She no longer hears his voice but senses the door opening and closing. All she can think of is Atticus dead in the front seat of the van, blood dripping everywhere. The feel of Quinn’s lips on hers. She should have known. She got distracted. She should have sensed it. He was there all along.

The emotions; the pain, the anger, frustration, guilt, guilt, guilt consume her every fiber.

Astrid closes her eyes and screams and screams and screams.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Draco

Frantic banging on the back door of the cottage almost scares the shit out of him. Like, he may have actually shit in his pants if he wasn’t genetically attuned for sudden attack. With the book in his hand held like a weapon, Draco leaps out of his chair and approaches the door, stopping when he looks out the window. A thin Japanese man slams his fists on the door and Draco blinks twice before opening it, processing the situation.

“Casper?” he asks, once they stand face-to-face. The goblin is awash in daylight, wide-eyed and shaking. Draco searches over the man’s shoulder toward the bunker. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s A-A-A, Astrid.”

The hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Nothing else would get him out of that bunker.

“Is she hurt?”

“There’s an e-e-e-vent on the highway.” He tenses at his speech. “She’s h-h-hurt.”

“You know how to find her?”

He nods.

“I’ll drive.”

The gas station is out of the city and Draco speeds through the streets in the BMW. The car handles the speed well, hugging the curves and gliding in and out of traffic.

Casper stares at him as he punches it to make it through a yellow light, his pale hands gripping the seat. “W-w-w-who taught you to drive l-l-like this?”

He shrugs and shifts gears, leaving Crescent City behind, taking the speed up to 100. “Part of the genetic package, apparently.”

“Is there a-a-a-anything you can’t do?”

He thinks about Astrid and how badly he wants her and how he can’t let go enough to do it. From the look on Casper’s face, he suspects he knows about his flaw.

“Tell me how to find this place,” he says, and through his stammer, Casper explains that he had a tracker on her Jeep and she’d driven to meet up with Jensen. He didn’t have a verbal recording of what went on, but through the camera in the Jeep he witnessed them have some kind of altercation in the car. And then Astrid imploded.

He holds out a tablet that has a red beacon blinking in the middle.

“The c-c-c-ar started f-f-fucking shaking. She c-c-c-overed her eyes and ears. Then b-b-boom.” He makes a gesture with his hands like an explosion.

“An actual explosion?”

“More l-l-l-ike a wave of e-e-energy.”

Draco pushes the car to go faster.

Luckily, there’s only a few people standing around the car. Astrid is still sitting in the SUV, expression blank. The tires are flat. Her Jeep sits next to it. The windows on both cars are shattered. It’s only a matter of time before Jensen or someone on his team comes back for the vehicle and maybe her. They need to get out of here.

“Text Quinn. Tell him they need to get the Jeep and that I’ve got her,” he says, racing from the car. He opens the door and finds her, shocked and trembling in the passenger seat. He touches her cheek. “Astrid. We’re here. I’m going to take you home.”

Seeing her like this knocks the breath out of him and he’s thinking of her in that pink hat with cat ears, watching him lift weights in the group home gym. She was small and vulnerable then. He never thought he’d see it happen again, but whatever went on with Jensen tore her up. She did this to herself but something sparked it.

He’s going to find out what.

Leaning close, he expects her to fight back, but there’s no life in her. It’s like she’s drained of all energy. He glances at Casper, who sits in the car looking worried. He won’t come out. He’s already probably done more than he can.

“I don’t know what happened out here, but we’re going to fix it. You’re going to be okay. Got it?” She blinks and turns to face him. Impulsively, he brushes his lips against hers. He knows for once the jolt of energy isn’t manipulated in any way. She’s too burned out to play with his emotions.

No, that heat. That want. That…love? That’s all him and he knows it.

Carefully he picks her up, ignoring the people standing by the pumps, watching. Casper climbs over the seat and opens the back door from the inside. Draco lays her inside and the hacker takes her gently into his arms.

Once settled, Draco jumps in the driver’s seat and peels out of the parking lot.

He glances in the rearview mirror at Astrid; her eyes closed and exhausted in the back seat. Casper runs his hand through her hair. Draco presses down on the gas and heads home.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Astrid

Snuggled in like a caterpillar in a cocoon, Astrid wakes in a vaguely familiar room. Daylight fades in the windows and a fire crackles nearby. The gray blanket surrounding her smells heavenly; spicy and sweet at the same time. A faint heartbeat catches her attention, along with shallow breathing. She glances to her right and spots a stack of books. That’s when she realizes where she is.

Draco’s room.

Exhausted, she struggles to a sitting position, looking for Mr. Perfect. He’s not there, but in the chair by the fireplace she does see someone else. He’s focused on a tablet in his hands.

“Casper?” she asks, wincing at her raw throat.

He glances up and his eyes dart to the door. He’s going to run. Bolt like lightning, but she coughs and clarity clicks in his eyes. He runs over, stumbling over the rug. He fumbles with a glass next to the bed, filling it with water from a clear pitcher. He doesn’t speak but he hands her the glass. She drinks and eyes him carefully.

Finally seeing Casper, whose real name is Cedric, in person almost feels like seeing a ghost. She’s known him for months now; talked and joked around, worked and planned. She thinks they’re friends, at the very least teammates, but there’s no doubt about the distance between them.

He’s socially awkward. That part is obvious. Her empathy picks up on it immediately—a nervous vibration under his skin. He’s pale from his time inside, but not sickly. He must have access to some light. He’s thin, but like Draco told her, he does a little training. He’d probably die under one of her sessions at the gym. His cheekbones are killer, and his eyes a deep, soulful brown. His lips are turned down in a scowl, probably because she’s studying him.

“How did I get here?” she asks. “And why are you out of your bunker?” Her throat feels so raw.

“You w-w-w-were in trouble.” He stares at the ground.

“I remember being with Jensen and…” Her hand covers her mouth. “He told me…well I saw, I saw some bad shit.”

The frown leaves his mouth and he swallows thickly. “W-w-what…” he grimaces and balls his fists.

“Take your time.” She reaches for his arm but he steps back, obviously frustrated. “Seriously.”

His jaw clenches and he inhales. “W-w-what did you see?”

Oh, his voice. Something about it hits a nerve and tears well up. She’s wanted to hear it ever since she found out he was altering it. She fights off any acknowledgement of this, though. It would only make him angry.

“Jensen is part of it all. Project 12. He knew all our mentors. He knew us as kids. I don’t know what side he was on, but I accused him of killing Atticus.”

His eyes widen. “Did y-y-you see him do it?”

She shakes her head. “No. He says he didn’t. I don’t know, some people can hide things from me, and I was really upset.”

“The c-c-car. How?” his words are clipped, keeping him from speaking—stammering. She wishes he wasn’t so self-conscious about it.

“I just lost it. Like, one minute I was angry, and then the next it was like a build-up of everything. Fear, anger, frustration, rage. It was like I exploded.”

“You k-k-k-ind of did.” He shakes his head incredulously, but she also spots the smile on his lips. “Totally f-f-fucked up the car.”

She still feels drained—lost. Picking at a thread on the quilt she says, “Every time I feel like I get a handle on something, that I gain a little bit of control in my life, something falls apart. It’s like my whole history is built on sand, you know.”

He nods. Of course, he knows.

“I met Quinn and Atticus died. I met you and Owen, and Demetria exploded in our lives. We got Draco and the team falls apart—sidelined. I gave Luby a job and he gets attacked. Now this with Jensen.” She sighs and rests her head on the pillow, releasing a gust of delicious Draco-smelling air. “I just want something consistent. Something sure. I want people and things to count on.”

Casper looks down on her, his black T-shirt frayed along the hem. Awkwardly, hesitantly, he reaches out and grazes her cheek with the back of his hand. She leans into it, knowing what he’s trying to say without words. She has him. She has the man who left her in this bed. She has Owen and Quinn, who are probably out there on the warpath right now.

“W-w-w-we’ll get through this.” His jaw tenses. “I’m n-n-not letting those b-b-bastards win.”

“I know.” She knows it but doesn’t feel it, not in her heart.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Quinn

The Jeep is right where Casper said it would be, around the side of the gas station near the dumpster. The SUV next to it looks like a prop out of a film—a car post-earthquake. The whole thing is broken down from the shattered windows to the flat tires.

“What the hell happened?” he mutters, pulling up next to it. Casper said to hurry, get the Jeep out of here fast before Jensen’s men returned. He didn’t get a response about what happened to Jensen in the first place. All the text said was:

We have Astrid

Get the Jeep

Jensen is compromised.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Owen says, getting out of the front seat.

“Same.” He touches the SUV, searching for traces of energy. There’s nothing there. The systems are blown. “If Astrid’s tied to this, we need to get rid of the evidence.”

“The Jeep?” Owen asks. She’ll kill them if they do anything to it. It was a gift from Atticus. “I don’t know…”

“Not the Jeep,” he says. He rests his hand on the top of the SUV. “This. The Task Force can definitely use it against her.”

“What are you going to do? Call Draco to drag it out of here on his back?”

Quinn laughs. That guy could probably do it. He’s a beast. “I’ve got this. Cover me?”

He rubs his hands together, charging electricity. Owen understands and tosses up a manipulation shield, blocking them from view. His fingers tingle, firing up with the current and sparks. When the ball is strong enough, he places both hands on the car and fries it. Completely.

The metal shivers, quaking under the current; smoke billows from under the hood, the dead engine twists into a melted heap. When Quinn is finished, there’s nothing left but the scent of burned metal and a glob of molten remains.

His hands shake from expending so much energy and he wipes them on his pants.

“Quinn,” Owen says, with a nod to the street. He turns and a black Humvee rolls into the parking lot.

“Fuck.” He grimaces. “Can we get out of here without them seeing us?”

“Do you really want to?” he asks, no doubt thinking of what Rowe did to Luby.

Quinn raises his eyebrows and tests his currents. He’s still got some juice. Owen lowers the shield.

The Humvee screeches to a stop and four men in Task Force uniforms scramble out. Rowe exits from the driver’s seat. His standard smug expression is plastered on his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Quinn says, crossing his arms in a way he knows makes him look even bigger. Two of the men behind Rowe shift on their feet.

“I was sent out here to check on one of the agency’s vehicles.” He looks around Quinn. Then narrows his eyes. “I’m assuming that’s what’s left of it.”

“We’re just getting some gas.” Owen looks innocently at Quinn. “Should I run in and get Astrid a snack?”

“Good idea.”

Neither of them moves.

“Where is your boss?” he frowns at the Jeep. “Is that hers? Strange that my boss and your boss were both here and their cars look like they survived a bombing.”

“That is weird,” Owen agrees. “You know what else is weird? That our employee Luby is in the hospital after an encounter with you at Crescent Homes.”

Rowe shakes his head, his expression blank. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“So it’s okay to just fuck with teenagers now?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault all the big boys and girls ran off because they were scared.”

Rowe doesn’t know they’re the Elite. At least Quinn thinks he doesn’t, and Astrid made it clear her meeting with Jensen was off the record, that’s why they’re out here, but something about Rowe is nagging at him. What’s this all about? Why is he picking a fight? Just wanting Owen and Quinn to make a move? Reveal themselves?

Too bad neither are that dumb.

Quinn doesn’t need his gifts to take down Rowe, he’s proved it before, and the prick needs a lesson for what he did to Luby—what he’s doing to Astrid. He steps closer to Rowe and says, “I’m sure the heroes have better things to do than clean up after your messes, but let me tell you one thing: you fuck with Astrid or any of her employees again, and you’ll do it with two broken legs.”

A vicious smile tugs at Rowe’s lips; the others reach for their weapons, ready to arrest him, but their commander holds up his hand.

“You want another go at it?” he asks, puffing his chest.

“Only if you want to embarrass yourself again.”

There’s no warning when Rowe snaps, only the swing of his arm as it hurtles toward Quinn’s face. Good thing his reflexes are fast and he ducks, diving forward, barreling into Rowe’s body. His back hits the Humvee and his men come forward.

“Don’t think about it,” he grunts and they back off. This is an old score.

The pair is evenly matched and Rowe’s fist packs a powerful punch. His knuckles crash into Quinn’s jaw. He gets him back, landing two jabs to his kidneys, but Quinn takes an elbow in his lower back. The blow knocks the wind out of him and his anger brings the current to the surface, but he wills it back.

The two men pummel the crap out of one another. Through blurry vision, he watches Rowe spit blood on the ground.

“Stay away from the gym, the employees, and especially Astrid,” Quinn grunts, swiping at the back of his knees. Rowe doesn’t fall, he feints and snatches Quinn’s wrists with his hands, yanking them securely behind his back. He bends when the sharp point of the man’s knee rams in his back.

Squirming and in pain, he’s trapped.

Quinn’s eyes flick to Owen’s as he grimaces, licking his puffy, busted lip. He’s furious for leaving an opening.

“I could take you in right now for vandalizing that car.” Rowe’s breath is hot on his ear. “They wouldn’t put you in jail, though. Fuck no, they’d poke and prod you to figure out what makes you special; how you destroyed that car. I’ve seen what they do to freaks and trust me, this is not a game you want to mess with.”

“Back off, Rowe,” Owen says. “Quinn’s not one of the vigilantes. He’s a gym rat and you’re just pissed he’s banging the chick that rejected you.”

Quinn can’t help but snort. Rowe twists his wrists even harder.

Whatever he has planned next is cut short by a static-y voice from inside the car. He jerks his head at one of his men and he grabs the transmitter.

Jensen’s voice crackles over the speaker.

“Code-11. I repeat. Code-11.”

“Fuck,” Rowe growls in Quinn’s ear. He releases his grip but not without shoving him hard on the ground. He can’t catch himself but he manages to turn, landing full weight on his shoulder. Two of Rowe’s men kick him on the way to the truck and Owen charges, but a short shake of the head from Quinn stops him.

The Humvee roars to life and peels out of the lot. Just as they turn onto the road, Owen flips his wrist and the vehicle swerves, tires squealing, and careens off the road.  Offering Quinn a hand, he helps him off the ground.

“What did you do?” he asks, sagging under his injuries. The Humvee gets back on the road.

“Tossed an 18-wheeler in the way. Fuckers.”

Quinn laughs but it hurts his mouth. His jaw. Everything. Bastard got the best of him this time.

This time, he thinks, knowing it won’t be the last.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Draco

The street is narrow with rows of look-a-like townhomes on both sides. The community is newer, modeled after the housing on the Harbor Line.  A coffee shop is three blocks away. A bakery with gluten-free muffins is next to that. The whole city is in a state of turnover, and Draco watches one of the men involved with the changes exit his car and walk up to one of the brick homes.

Even from a distance, Jensen looks tired—whatever happened with him and Astrid took it out of both of them. The way he stealthily eyes the street hints to paranoia. Is he worried about Astrid or one of her team? Or is he worried about his own?

Casper updated him on Astrid’s version of the story; what she saw in his echo. Jensen’s part of the long game. Part of Project 12, and the thought makes his blood run cold.

He should have known.

Draco doesn’t use the sidewalk. He exits the car and leaps over the iron fence separating the street from the houses. Using the side of the house, a fire hydrant, and a gutter, he flies over the obstacles in his way and lands like a cat on his feet, inches from Jensen.

He disarms the agent in two moves, removing the bullets and saying, “We need to talk. But not here.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’ve been compromised.”

Draco leads him back to the car and soon they’re climbing the hills back to Demetria’s home. Jensen is quiet for most of the ride but doesn’t seem surprised when they stop outside the massive gates. He doesn’t flinch when he sees the extravagant grounds and over-dramatic landscaping.

When he finally stops the car in front of the cottage, the agent does ask, “Is Astrid okay?”

He’s not sure he believes that he cares, but he nods. “She’s safe and recovering. Weak from her outburst. That may be good for you.”

Draco leads him into the house and points him to the living room. There’s a bar in the corner and he suggests the agent get a drink. Draco walks to the back of the house. His heart pounds when he sees Astrid on the bed, pale but awake. Casper sits next to her. The little goblin didn’t bail on her.

Her eyes perk up when she sees him but he holds up his hand. “There’s someone here to see you. You up for it?”

There’s no doubt she knows who and she swings her legs out of the bed—too fast—and he lunges to help her stay upright. “Sorry, just a little lightheaded.”

He links his arm with hers and glances at Casper. “You coming?”

“I’ll watch from your office.” He holds up his tablet. “I’ve already got eyes on him.”

It’s as much as he can give, but truthfully, Jensen may not know about Casper and keeping him hidden may be a good idea.

“I can’t believe this,” Astrid mutters on her way down the hall. “There was never any sign Jensen was involved. What if he’s an enemy, Draco? I’m not sure I can handle that.”

They enter the living room and Jensen stands by the bar with his drink half drained. He looks her over, eyes filled with concern. He also lingers on their closeness.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Not really. My whole life is a lie, but thanks for making it worse.”

“I never meant for you to find out like this.” He takes a long drink and sits in a leather chair near the fireplace. Astrid takes a seat across from him, keeping her distance. Draco stands by the door, ever vigilant.

“We never meant for you to find out at all. But when things started heating up in the city and Atticus insisted on sending you out…things escalated in a way I never expected. You’re good at this—you all are. We should have seen it coming.”

“Who’s we?”

“The mentors.” He laughs bitterly at their surprised expressions. “Yeah, I’m a mentor, too.”

“Is everyone I know tied into this? And how far does it go?” Astrid asks.

“The project started when pediatricians created a database of special children. Kids who had hypersensitivities or extreme skills. You were being tracked from a young age.”

“And then what? All our parents died around the same time?”

“Obviously not a coincidence. I won’t lie. The physicians knew something was wrong, collected you one by one, and took you off the grid to Rosalie. The plan was for her to raise you while the doctors figured out what was really going on with your special skills.”

“And how were the mentors picked?”

“We were people close to the program. Atticus and I were assigned because of safety protocol. Emma because she was a scientist studying the properties that made you unique. Holden was another genius…the list goes on. Everyone was properly vetted and secure.”

“Until someone tried to kill us at the group home.”

He nods. “We had an emergency protocol set up for a situation like this. Don’t get me wrong. We weren’t naïve. We knew someone would want to exploit you. We just hoped to keep you safe as long as possible. The bomb took us by surprise. Luckily Cedric was paying attention and got many of you out of the house.”

“How many?” Draco asks.

“At least nine.”

This is more than Atticus had documented in his files.

“And you know where everyone is?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I do know that the people that killed your parents and took out the group home are still out there. They want the mentors dead and they want you. That is who killed Atticus and the others.”

Astrid’s eyes narrow. Draco has no doubt she’s scanning him with every sense. “Why haven’t they killed you?”

“Because I’ve spent the last fourteen years playing both sides.”

“You’re a double agent?” she asks.

He nods. “After the group home was destroyed, I was sent undercover to figure out who we were fighting. It’s taken years to establish myself and I had everything under control until you started going on the streets. There was no way I could protect you out there other than making you a target. Do you understand that?”

The look on her face clearly says no, she does not.

Astrid’s voice is wobbly when she asks her next question. He knows it’s coming because he’s had to hold it back himself. He owes her the opportunity to clear the air on her own.

“Who was your mentee?” she asks, her hands balled in her lap. Draco has no doubt about the answer. He’s certain by now Astrid doesn’t either. She just needs to hear him say it.

“Demetria,” he replies, his eyes filled with pain. “I was her mentor and I failed her.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Astrid

Speechless.

It’s not one of the things people say about her.

Messy. Tough. Enigma. But speechless?

She touches her forehead to see if she’s lost consciousness or something. Thankfully, Draco seems to have more of his senses and says, “You’re Demetria’s mentor.”

“Didn’t you wonder?” is all Jensen replies.

Not really, Astrid thinks, but she vaguely recalls watching Jensen go into a building down in the Swamp with at least one of Demetria’s employees. She’d wondered at the time why he was down there. What was his connection? But then she got so caught up in Owen and Quinn and saving lives that the moment faded.

“She said you were dead,” Draco admits. “And I didn’t push further. The odds of her mentor being dead, like the rest of ours, seemed likely.”

“Jensen,” Astrid says, finally finding her voice. “What happened? How did it go so wrong?”

He leans back in his seat, nothing in his glass but ice. “After the group home was destroyed, we quickly removed all of you to safety. We didn’t have much information on one another. Things were chaotic and your safety was our highest priority. None of us wanted your abilities to be used for something evil, and too many of you had not refined your abilities yet. You were dangerous but also incredibly special. The doctors just wanted to know more. In the end it didn’t matter. We scattered.”

“How did you keep up with Atticus?”

“I didn’t. Not at first. I went underground with Demetria and the head of Project 12 asked me to work my way into a particular government agency. One that operates covertly on high risk cases. If anyone was hoping to weaponize you, it would be them.” He clinks the ice in his glass by swirling it. “It took a few years but with my background and skill set, I was able to get up the ranks and found myself in charge of recruits. That’s when I discovered Atticus and his gym. We made a plan to work together to have hands-on access to the people that could become your enemy.”

“So you intentionally trained them to be deadly weapons?” Draco says incredulously.

“And we trained Astrid to be the best of them all.” He smiles at her. “She’s our Super.”

God, this sounds insane.

“Where was Demetria during this?” she asks.

He inhales and exhales slowly. “Demetria came into that house damaged and she left even worse. The slips into fantasy were more and more. She had an incredible mastery over her skills at an early age and her psychosis didn’t help. When she was seventeen she had a complete mental breakdown. When she was eighteen she released herself from the hospital. I tried to get her to come home but she refused. She cut me off, completely.” He looks at Draco. “When she told you I was dead, she may have believed it.”

Astrid looks at Draco as she attempts to process all of this. His story makes sense but it’s too much. Too tidy. He happens to be in charge of the bad guys as well as having access to the survivors of the Project?

“I don’t know what to do with all of this information, Jensen. I have no idea what you and Atticus want us to do. Or if you even wanted the same thing.” Her hands grip the edge of the sofa. “I don’t trust you anymore. I don’t trust your program and I certainly don’t trust Rowe.”

“I don’t trust them either. They’re not good people,” he agrees. “It didn’t start off like this. I sent the men and women you recruited across the world to fight but then Demetria went off the rails and the Mayor started the Task Force…things are out of control.”

“You let them get out of control,” Draco says. There’s a hard, dangerous edge do this voice. “Your job was to protect Demetria. That’s it, because what has come from your being with the agency? What have you learned? Nothing that can help us. The city is under more threat now than before. There’s a terrorist planning to drop a bomb days from now, and you’ve side-lined your best soldiers. This is complete bullshit, Jensen.”

The anger rolls off him in waves. Dangerous waves, and Astrid half-expects him to pick up a chair and throw it out the window. Or maybe pick up Jensen and toss him. But he just runs his hands over his face and slams his fist into the wall, knocking three paintings to the floor.

Jensen chews on his bottom lip and says, “This bomb? It’s not a threat, it’s not about taking down the city, although they don’t mind making an impression.”

“Then what’s the point?” Draco asks.

“It’s a trap.” Guilt rolls off the man and his eyes hold hers. “For you.”

*

Despite their arguments, Jensen insists on leaving and heading back to try to stop his team. She senses he knows it’s futile. The two of them let a fox in their house. Astrid is just as guilty as Jensen when it comes to Rowe. She knew he was dangerous and she recommended him to a powerful position anyway.

Still feeling the wear of her burn-out from before, she walks back down the hall and gets back into Draco’s bed. She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t care. She just wants to be surrounded by the warmth of his delicious-smelling blankets. She wants to feel safe, even if it’s just for a few moments.

She hears voices in the hallway; Casper’s soft, frustrated stammer and Draco’s patient replies. Then the click of the back door as the hacker returns to his bunker and a shadow crosses over the threshold.

“You think he’ll ever come out of there again?”

He crosses his massive arms over his chest and leans against the door frame. “After meeting you face to face? I dare him to keep away.” He watches her carefully. “I know it’s been impossible for me.”

She rolls her eyes but can’t deny the hammer of her heart in her chest. She takes a chance and holds her hand out to him. He stares at it for a long, hard moment before walking over.

“Lay with me?”

To her surprise, he slips off his shoes and pulls back the covers. His body is large and there’s no way for him not to intrude on her space. She shifts to give him room but his hands grab her hips and he keeps her close.

“Change of heart?” she asks. There’s conflict running in his emotions, something different than before. He wants her—he always has, and the shield still remains--but there’s something else bubbling under the surface. A burst of something new.

His hand squeezes on her hip and she feels a jolt that runs between her legs. He’s so close and he smells so good. “When I saw you hurt today, I almost lost it.”

“I wasn’t hurt. Just stupid. I did it to myself.”

He shakes his head and she reaches out to push a lock of hair off his forehead. He leans his face into her hand and for the briefest of moments he closes his eyes.

Draco, she realizes with sudden clarity, is exhausted.

The thought hits her like a bolt of lightning. He’s worn out, spent, completely depleted. And why wouldn’t he be? All that time with Demetria, doing her bidding and trying to keep her on track. The mind-games, the crazy Lost Boy bullshit. Then he found us and dealing with Casper and he’s not like her or Quinn or Owen. He doesn’t have a safe place. A home that’s fun and silly and filled with video games and an adorable cat.

He’s all alone, with his books. His work.

No wonder he has up that fucking shield.

She strokes his face, runs her fingers through his hair, and slowly his shoulders relax. She takes a moment to run her hands over his chest, feeling the hard, defined muscles.

Unlike Quinn and Owen, Astrid isn’t sure where to go next—where to take it. She wants him and she knows, for a fact, with the heat and feel of his cock pressing into her thigh, he wants her back, but her senses tell her he needs something else. Something more, and she wants more than anything to give it to him.

“Come here,” she says, inching closer and snuggling into his chest. He wraps his arms around her and he exhales, the deep releasing kind that only happens when you’ve found peace.

If that’s what he needs, that’s what she’ll give him.

For now.

Until he’s ready.

Chapter Thirty

Owen

He’d hoped to sleep in, but the six-pound weight on his chest starts moving and licking his chin with sandpapery kisses.

He groans, “Are you fucking kidding me, cat?”

Harry stares at him and meows. It’s the cheese meow. He knows it well. “Go find your mom,” he says, rolling over, which forces the cat to the ground. He meows again.

“Dammit.”

Owen trudges from the bed, down the hall and into the kitchen. Quinn sits at the table, eating a heaping bowl of eggs and sausage. The cat darts in and out of his feet as he walks. “I don’t know why this cat is always trying to kill me while I’m actually trying to feed it.”

“Don’t look at me,” Quinn says. “I don’t get one thing about that animal.”

He opens the refrigerator door and pulls out a piece of cheese before making small balls. Harry jumps up on the counter and Owen blanches. “Fuck no cat, I’ll feed you but not on the counter. Gross.”

There are lines he won’t cross.

The cat hops down and begins eating. “Where’s your mama, anyway?” he asks the cat.

“Astrid didn’t come home last night,” Quinn says.

Owen jumps up. “What?”

“Casper texted after you went to bed. She stayed over.”

Makes sense. They watched the video of Jensen confessing his past to Astrid. It was a lot to take in.

“With him?” he asks.

Quinn rolls his eyes. “Nope. Draco.”

“Huh.” Not that he’s surprised. Astrid had been pushing him pretty hard. It’s just that Mr. Perfect didn’t seem into the idea. He seemed into her but not the complexity of their relationship. “Well, it’s clear we need him. Hopefully she can establish some trust.”

“After everything Jensen told her, I doubt Astrid’s going to trust anyone ever again.” He rubs his head. “I’m just not sure what we do from here.”

As usual, the decision isn’t up to them. Casper texts them both.

Head to the Lair. Shit just got real.

“Not again,” Owen mutters, reaching for the box of sugary cereal Astrid keeps over the refrigerator. “I was really hoping shit would just stay not real, you know?”

Quinn laughs and puts his plate in the sink. “You shouldn’t eat that crap.”

“I know, but something needs to make me happy, and I have a feeling whatever Casper is about to tell us isn’t going to do it.”

*

The warehouse isn’t in the Swamp. It’s down by the marina and packed with boats. They sit four stories high, one platform on top of the other, most expensive.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Charger asks over the com for the third time. He’s near the transformer on the outside of the building.

Owen understands his concern. This isn’t their typical target. It’s too clean. Too upscale.

They spent the day arguing about coming down here. In the end they took a vote whether or not they should check out the building for the bomb materials. Casper’s dark web intel said it was being held here. Owen’s spidey-senses tell him something’s off. He suspects the others know too—they just don’t care.

“I’m positive,” Casper says.

“So it’s a trap,” Owen declares. He just wants to say it.

“Yep,” Echo replies from her rooftop position. “Definitely.”

“And we’re going in?” he clarifies.

“Affirmative,” Draco shoots back. He’s stationed by the back door. “It’s not a trap if you know going into it.”

No one responds to that logic. Or illogic? Is that a thing?

Owen grimaces. He’s on the roof of the building across the street. His job is to help everyone get in the building unnoticed. It’s evening but not late enough for the place to be completely empty. Why now? Because according to Casper, the men building the bombs are coming in tonight and then planting them at the stadium for the game tomorrow. The clock is ticking.

“Everybody ready?” Casper asks, synching up their masks. The screen comes to life and Owen adjusts to the digital reality in front of him.

“Ready.” Charger says.

“Yep,” Echo adds.

Draco chimes in, “Yes.”

“On three,” Owen says, getting everyone’s positions. He braces himself and drops the veil, blocking the others from visibility. The work they’ve done with their powers. It’s made them so much stronger.

“I’m dropping the map,” Casper says and their vision is filled with a blueprint of the building. A red dot shows them where to find the materials they’re looking for.

“There are three people on the left side of the building. I’m tracking their heartbeats,” Echo says.

“On it,” Charger flips off the transformer for the opposite side of the building. It falls dark.

“Thanks, they’re on the move,” she says. “Mr. Perfect?”

“Don’t call me that.” He grunts. “I’m inside.” Owen releases the shield once he’s past the guy working at the gate. Charger emerges from the shadows. Owen creates another shadow, one that gets the guys attention, and he wanders off, curious. Charger follows Draco in.

Once they’re out of view he watches Echo scale the building and slip in a ventilation window near the top floor. She slips inside and touches her com.

“Everyone’s inside. I’ll meet you there.”

He gets confirmation back and turns to scale the side of the building but a shadow moves to his left followed by the loud click of a gun. He feels it pressed against his head.

“On your knees,” a voice says.

He drops and a man in a black Task Force uniform stands before him, gun held to his head. “Don’t even try any of that fancy shit, got it?”

Owen doesn’t respond but when the guy calls in his position he flicks his fingers, making the tiniest of rips in the air just beyond the rooftop wall.

“Yeah, I’ve got one of them up on the roof. Yeah,” he says, “he’s contained. If he tries anything I’m taking him out. What? Fuck, I know the orders but we’re not working under Jensen anymore. These freaks are disgusting. The mayor can kiss my ass. You hear me?”

They argue and Owen takes the chance to expand the size of the tear. It’s not a silent task and the guy looks around. “What was that?” The gun is inches from his forehead. “What are you doing?”

Ah, his ability spooks him. It should, after Demetria and her dragon.

“Wish I could stay,” Owen says with a smirk. “But I’ve gotta run.” He rushes past the solider. Gunfire cracks and the breeze from the bullet flies past his cheek. He dives head first into the hole, pinpointing a spot on Casper’s map in his mind. He has no fucking idea if this will work, but he’s got to try.

Chapter Thirty-One

Astrid

The power fails and she’s left with the blinking little red light that acts like the X on a treasure map. They aren’t looking for gold, but for explosives. Up near the ventilation shaft she catches the tang of fertilizer. Following her nose and the map, Astrid jumps down to the top boat storage platform. Then another.

“I can smell it,” she says to Casper over the com. “If it’s a trap, this is the real place.”

Watching—listening—for anything, she keeps an ear out for heartbeats, footsteps. So far there’s nothing but her breathing, until she spots the stealth movements of Draco and Charger below. A large shadow darts across the open space of the lower level. Too big to be a normal man. It’s one of her boys.

“I’ve got eyes on you,” she says over her com. “Well, one of you. Everyone alive and well?”

“Yep,” Charger replies. “There’s a back room. I’m thinking that’s our target?”

“According to the map,” Draco replies.

“Charger, keep your currents under control. There’s real explosive material down there. I can sense it.”

“Got it, babe.”

She doesn’t hate it when he calls her that.

Wrapping her hand over the edge of the boat, she hangs for a moment and then drops, landing louder than she’d like.

“Smooth,” Casper says.

“Shut up.”

“One more level and—shit. Hold on. Something’s going on with Pan.”

“Casper?” she asks, but he blinks out. “He’s gone. No eyes.”

“Drop down,” Quinn says. “We’re right below.”

If that’s true, he and Draco are cloaked by the shadows, but their dueling heartbeats give her a direction to focus on. She pushes off the platform and says, “Heads up!” before falling into the dark.

Thumpthumpthump

She closes her eyes and falls, letting her senses guide her.

She could adjust, she could land on her feet, she could do many things but instead she sails through the air and lands in two very strong arms.

“Gotcha.”

She smiles up at Mr. Perfect. “You sure do.”

His hands skim over her ass as he releases her to the floor but that moment grounds her—grounds them. They haven’t had sex yet but the intimacy they shared in the bed the night before notched up their connection. Little by little, she’ll chip away at that shield. She can wait.

“You ready to call Jensen once we confirm?” Quinn asks.

“Yeah, once we confirm and contain. We’ll call it in and get everything secured. Then vanish, like we were never here.”

That’s the plan, nothing more. No huge heroic moment.

Draco flashes a light on the door and Quinn pulls a tool off his belt to smash the lock. He whacks it hard, the metal bending and then breaking in two. Astrid stands guard, listening for someone, anyone. But the place is quiet.

Too quiet.

“Hurry up,” she says, not liking the way it—something—feels. “Let me get eyes on it and call Jensen.”

Quinn kicks open the door and a small workroom is revealed. Two long tables sit in the middle of the room. Everything needed to make a bomb lies on the table. Copper wiring, piles of sharp metal pieces and containers of chemicals and powders she assumes is some sort of accelerant.

“Take pictures,” she says, removing her phone from the pocket in her vest. She passes it to Draco and touches her com. “Casper, Pan…we’re in. What’s your status?”

No reply.

“Casper?”

She freezes, feeling the change in the air. Hearing the rip, no, a tear? The hair on her arm stands on end and she senses Draco and Quinn stop as well. “Something’s wrong,” she says, but there’s no time to think about what. The air crinkles, ripples, and right outside the door she spots the shimmer.

The spot expands and a figure, blonde hair, green suit, rolls out fast and hard, smashing into the door frame.

“Pan?”

She races over and checks the air behind her. Draco is already there, holding his shield, waiting for something to follow but nothing—no one—does. The ripple vanishes.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, eyes wide with panic. “I think so. The Task Force is here. They’re coming. I barely escaped.”

“Through a portal.”

“Hell fucking yes! A portal!” his face lights up. “I did it!”

“Get the pictures and get out,” she tells him, helping Owen off the floor. Astrid runs her hands over his body, feeling his chest—heartbeat and his pulse by his neck. She looks in his green eyes and touches his gloved hand. His knees are a little wobbly, god knows what his body is going through.

“Do I check out?” he asks her.

“I think so.”

He tugs her hand. “We need to go.”

“We can’t. We have to secure this.” She waves her hand behind her. Owen and Draco are finished taking photos. “We can’t walk away from this much explosive material.”

Owen looks pleadingly at them. “They tried to shoot me. Kill me. This isn’t a game. We’ve got to get out of here before it’s too late.”

Footsteps shuffle at the door and they all move into a defensive stance.

“Tie them up,” Rowe says. Three soldiers flank him, holding weapons. He points to Quinn and Owen. “Especially those two.”

Like a well-oiled machine, there’s no hesitation when Owen tosses up the shield, giving both Quinn and Draco a chance to attack. Quinn can’t use his powers but he is still a massive physical threat. Astrid touches her com, “Cas, we need you.”

“Stop!” Rowe shouts, pushing a man forward. Quinn doesn’t stop until he gets a good look at the man and he frowns, frozen, with his arms around the neck of one of the soldiers. Draco is mid-punch, but he pulls back. The man is tall and lean. African-American with smooth dark skin. His eyes are equally dark—hollow. There’s not a trace of fear in them when he pulls the front of his jacket, revealing a bomb attached to his body.

“You’re not getting out of this one,” Rowe says, walking around his human bomb. “And we’re not going to kill you. That has never been the plan, understand?”

“What is this?” Astrid asks.

“This is what you get for meddling in my business.” He nods at his men and they quickly bind each of their hands together. The material on the ties is strong, better than the plastic of zip ties. It feels like something Casper would make. Impenetrable.

He forces them on the floor. Not their knees, but their asses on the hard, cold surface.

“So you’re going to blow up the stadium?” she asks. “I knew you were a dick but I didn’t realize you were a psychopath.”

Owen snorts next to her. He’s punished with a punch to the head by one of Rowe’s men.

“No, sweet, sexy, feisty Astrid, I’m not going to blow up the stadium.” He leers at her with wide teeth. “You are.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Astrid

The weight of the bomb hanging against her neck makes her skin itch. It’s not the fear of the bomb, it’s the odd sensation of having something close around her neck and then the faint scent coming off the explosives along with the fear rolling off her friends.

The bomb itself is a clever contraption. Small and built into a collar. If she didn’t know better she’d think Casper made it. It’s connected to a remote that can start it off a timer or just detonate instantly. Rowe has threatened both.

She grimaces when she swallows back the rage and thinks about how she wants to shove the explosive in Rowe’s mouth and watch him burst into a million pieces.

The van hits a bump and she flinches and closes her eyes.

“Sorry about that!” the driver says. He’s the man that Rowe shoved in their direction. Still strapped, he navigates the van toward the stadium. He’s surprisingly calm.

The four of them are sitting in the back of the van on the floor. In a strange twist, Rowe unbinds them when the collar is secured around their necks—as if wanting an excuse to trigger the bombs. They could act—but they’re living explosives and the fear rolling off everyone in the van isn’t for themselves. Each of them would die to save someone else, but this? This won’t end well for anyone. There’s enough explosive material in the collars to take down the entire stadium and everyone in it. If Rowe’s plan works, the result will be catastrophic.

Sitting across from one another, she eyes Quinn and the feeling of dread takes over the anger. His explosive concerns her more than the others. One outburst or misfire from his electricity and they’ll go up in a hail of fire and guts. “You okay?” she asks quietly.

He works his jaw. Beneath the anger there’s something flickering in his eyes. A question. It’s been there since Rowe showed up.

They hit another bump, then lurch to a stop and her body crashes into Draco, who’s sitting next to her. She uses her feet to stop the movement but even the grip on her boots doesn’t help much. He pushes back with his shoulder, helping her straighten up.

The driver rolls down his window halfway and leans out.

“I’ve got a delivery for the concert tonight.”

“What kind of delivery.”

The driver glances over his shoulder. He grins. What a psycho. “Sound equipment. Here, I’ve got my ID.” He pulls out a card and gives it to the security guard.

The guard checks his clipboard. “Got it. Okay, go around the side, then to the underground entrance. Take the elevator to the broadcast room.”

“Thanks, man.”

None of them speak during this. They are quiet. What would happen if they alerted someone? The asshole in the front seat would take them all out. At least that’s what Rowe said after he loaded them with explosives and slammed the back doors on the group at the marina.

It’s his stupid, arrogant face that we see first when the doors open again.

The driver walks around, fussing with his jacket. Even Rowe takes a step aside and gives him a sharp look. “I didn’t have time for introductions before, since your little friend was probably calling the cops to come to the marina. Yeah,” he says, with a smirk. “I know about him, too.” He gestures to the man. “I thought you guys had a spidey-sense with one another, this is one of yours—”

“Rex,” Quinn says. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Rex? Astrid racks her brain and his name seems vaguely familiar. The man nods at Quinn. “Sure enough. Thought maybe you forgot about your old roommate.”

Roommate! Quinn mentioned him when they talked about living in the group home.

“You weren’t there for long but yeah, you made an impression.”

“What kind of impression?” Draco asks. It’s clear he doesn’t remember him either.

“He’s wearing those explosives because they won’t hurt him. He’s invincible.”

Owen perks up. “Like he can’t—”

“Die. No. I’ve seen it.”

“Dude tried to electrocute me,” Rex says with a laugh. “We tested it at night. Most kids would be jerking off or sneaking to the girls’ room. Nope. We were experimenting with how much electricity he could throw at me. The answer is a shit-ton.” He nods at Astrid. “Where’s my suit? Don’t I get one?”

“Not if you blow up the stadium,” she retorts, before shifting her interest back to Rowe. “So what’s this about?”

“It’s about what my boss wants.”

“What do they want?” Draco asks. His voice is clipped, patience waning.

“You. Off the streets and back where you belong, as test subjects, working for the government.”

His announcement renders all of them speechless. He takes that as an excuse to keep talking.

“My boss—obviously not Jensen. That guy has been a clueless pawn for years—has been looking for you for a long time. And no, we don’t want to kill you but if you’re out of control? We will.”

She touches the collar. “You think this will control us?”

“Yeah, I do. And the fact we’re going to publicly frame you for the attempted terrorist event at the stadium. The whole city will know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

“And then what?”

“Then we tell the world you’re in jail—super max—and lock you away, retrain you and use you as intended. As weapons.”

“That is not what we were made for,” Draco says.

“Maybe,” he says with an obnoxious shrug, “but this machine is bigger than you and me and everything put together. You won’t win this one. I told your mentors the same thing and they wouldn’t listen. Look what happened to them.” He cocks his finger like a gun and mimics firing.

His statement and the causal way he says it brings Astrid to her feet. She dives over the others, tackling Rowe. He doesn’t expect the wild, feral attack. He should. He just admitted to killing Atticus. Holden. Emma.

Fuck. This. Guy.

He lands on the ground and she falls on top of him; she rips off her gloves and grabs his hands, wanting the truth, all of it. His echo floods through her.

Dark rooms. Shadowy figures. Military medals on a broad chest. Photos of Astrid, Quinn, Owen, Demetria, Draco… flipping past quickly. First of them as small children, next older, then now. Three clear words from an unfamiliar voice: “I want them.”

She’s shaken loose—tossed across the room, landing at Rex’s feet. He glares down at her and she scrambles up to her knees. “Who are you working for?”

“It doesn’t matter. They own you. And when he’s ready to make you work, you’ll work. Got it?” He walks over and without warning, punches her in the face. She hears scrambling from the van and guns positioned. She rocks back but holds her ground and shakes her head at the guys. They’re frothing.

“Here’s how this goes down,” Rowe says. “Rex is indestructible. He can set off those explosives whenever he likes. It will kill everyone, including me, including you freaks, in a flash. There will be nothing left of your body but charred ash. But I know you, Astrid. I do. I’ve watched you, I’ve studied you, and I’ve fought you, and I know you will not go down until Rex is neutralized. That’s why you’re loaded up. If you make any sudden moves, I will activate your bombs with a flick of the switch.” He holds up a small remote. “Play nice and you’ll just be charged and revealed as terrorists, no one gets hurt. Deal?”

He touches her chin and raises his eyebrows, looking for affirmation.

That’s when she smells it rolling off Rowe like a wave of cheap cologne. He’s scared. Terrified. Not of them, but whoever is orchestrating all of this. Maybe his boss really is scary. Maybe she should bow down and let Rowe have his way, but Astrid doesn’t operate like that.

Except…she looks over at her men—her team—fuck, her lovers…and damn she cares for them so much and the feeling, the actual feeling is mutual. She feels it from across the dingy garage. They care for her. She cares for them, and once upon a time she was alone and this answer would have been easy. She would have said a quick fuck you and destroyed this place, but not anymore. Not after Demetria and the pain she inflicted on the city. Not after having Quinn in her bed and snuggling with Owen and Harry Styles on the couch. And certainly not after the breakthrough with Draco; small but epic.

“Okay,” she says, keeping her eyes on Rowe and shoving the conflict from her heart. “But I have one request.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Five minutes alone with my team before you send us out there. That’s all I ask.”

He thinks it over and nods. “Sure. I’ll give you five minutes when the time comes, but if you fight? It’s over.”

She nods.

They have a deal.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Casper

Jensen is a shit driver.

The car swerves around two others, narrowly missing a fire hydrant. Casper mutters under his breath, thinking they’ll probably never even get to the stadium alive to save the others.

“What’s that?” Jensen asks. The man’s hair is wild, his eyes panicked. When Casper called him, he freaked out. Not that it’s unreasonable. If the Goblin calls you, shit has hit the absolute fan.

“N-n-n-nothing. Watch the road.”

Rowe is an idiot. He has no idea the masks have high tech in them and he hasn’t forced them to take them off. Casper has watched the whole thing go down, from the marina to the van ride to the theatrics in the belly of the stadium on his tablet. He doesn’t get worried until Astrid agrees to Rowe’s plan.

“W-w-who’s in charge?” he asks Jensen. “W-w-who does he work for?”

“A higher up. I have no idea. I never reported to anyone directly. It’s why I had so much freedom with the recruits. I should have known better.”

“Yeah, you f-f-f-ucking should have.”

“I thought it was under control. I had no idea Rowe was a mole. None. I just thought he was a prick that would be really good at taking out terrorist cells.”

Casper laughs.

“I didn’t realize,” he continues, “that he was part of a terrorist cell. He got past all of us.”

“W-w-what do you know about Rex?”

Jensen blasts through a yellow light already shifting red. Casper holds on to the car door. He’s not used to being out in a car. Two times lately. He’s making progress. Too bad he’ll probably be dead before the night is over.

“That’s the catch. There are a few Supers showing up that I never knew survived. Rex, Blaze…god knows who else. We lost track of people after the fire. Everything was chaotic and very discrete. But…”

“B-b-but what?”

“But I think maybe we mis-calculated. Not dead, but taken. And unfortunately, being raised with a different mentality. You have to admit, the ones they took? They’re deadly.”

The stadium is up ahead. The road’s packed with cars, traffic, police, and everything else expected at a major event like this soccer match. Anxiety builds in Casper’s chest. He’s never been around this many people—this much humanity. He gulps for air.

“You okay?”

“I c-c-can’t breathe.”

“Slow down,” Jensen says, his eyes softening. “Take it easy. You’ll be okay.”

“D-d-doesn’t feel like it.”

“Let me tell you something. You may not know this but you’re built like the others. That special juice you all have? It doesn’t stop with your brain. Your whole body is a muscle and if you work it, you’ll see results. Genetically superior results.” Casper rolls his eyes skeptically. “I’m serious. You all have a boost. All of you, just some things work better on one person than the other. That’s what the shots did. They amplified your personal traits and then boosted the hell out of the rest of your body.”

Jensen runs his hand through his hair.

“What I’m trying to say is that I know this is scary as shit for you, but you’ve got this. You’re as good as they are. You’ve just got to stop hiding.”

The lecture hits him hard, but he feels the clunkiness of his tongue and sees the skinniness of his legs and knows it’s mentor bullshit. The hand holding the tablet trembles and he focuses on the scene from Draco’s mask. It doesn’t matter whose mask he looks through, they’re all focused on one thing: Astrid.

He gets it. He only wants to watch her too. Has been for months, years. Is it creepy? Maybe, but he never meant it that way. He was hidden away. He had no one. She—via Atticus—was his only connection to the world. His world.

At first, he thought she was spoiled. Annoying. Dramatic and dumb in the clothes and hats and gloves. But he was just jealous. She had her demons under control while he hid away—protecting himself with four walls and technology. She learned to fight, how to use her body. She’s strong, and then when the others showed up she learned how to do the unthinkable—trust and love someone new.

Fuck fuck fuck he was jealous, of all of them.

A car slams on the brakes, nearly hitting Jensen’s car. He sighs and reaches under the seat for a blue light. “I held off as long as I could,” he says, opening the window and sticking it on top. The lights flash and are followed by the blip of a siren. They ease into the median and head toward the stadium entrance.

“W-w-will they let us in?”

The older man smirks. “They don’t have a choice.”

Casper glances at the screen, staring at Astrid once more. She’s huddled on the ground, the collar restrictive around her neck. If she’s scared, she doesn’t show it, and that’s what bothers him the most.

“H-h-hurry,” he says, feeling the need to get there faster. Get to her—them—faster.

No, Astrid doesn’t look scared. She looks resigned, and that’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Astrid

Even in the bowels of the basement, she can feel the crowd above. Thousands of feet tremble against the cement floors. Voices vibrate, absorbed into the walls, the beams, traveling through the stadium, making it feel alive. The energy is palpable. Excited. This is the kind of place she avoided her entire life. Too many people. Too much emotion.

Rowe left them down here to carry on with whatever nefarious plan he has set up. Public humiliation? Prison? More testing? It’s the stuff of nightmares, but she will not risk the lives of millions to save herself.

Rex sits on a metal chair, his foot bouncing up and down, and he peels the paper wrapper off a water bottle.

“You nervous?” she asks. She doesn’t remember him. Not really.

“Bored,” he says, wadding up a strip of the paper and tossing it in Owen’s face. It bounces off his forehead. Rage flares under the surface. “Ready to get this party started, you know?”

“Not really.” She bends her knees and then flattens them again. “So, what’s your story? Did you know we were alive? Did you care?”

“I didn’t know at first—not during those first few years.” He swallows and she catches a hit of a raw nerve. “Thought you probably died or you’d be with me and Blaze.”

“And where was that? Exactly?” The others don’t speak. They just watch this exchange carefully; the anger and distrust rolling off of them feels like a blast of heat.

Rex eyes her, taking in her face, her position. “It sure as hell wasn’t with some loving father-figure or a little mommy or auntie tending to my psychic wounds.”

“Then where?” He makes an annoyed face and she adds, “Look, we’re either all dying in the next hour or we’re going to be working together. Make nice. Tell us your story.”

Rex is handsome in a stone-cold kind of way. The lack of light in his eyes makes him dangerous. Chilling. He sizes her up for another minute and says, “I grew up in a mansion. Bigger than the place he lives in,” he points to Draco. “All marble and shiny floors. There were servants and a big pool in the backyard. A kitchen that was always stocked and beautiful gardens in the back.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Owen says. His house was nice but he lived in a rough neighborhood.

“Yeah,” Rex says, his voice dark and hard, “except I didn’t describe my mentor. Or the basement.”

Finally, an emotion—the first that’s cracked through his tough barrier since they met. Talking about the past haunts him. Whatever went on in there was bad. So bad, and she actually feels sorry for him.

“What happened in the basement?”

He doesn’t reply for a moment. His boot scuffs on the floor. Looking up at her, he says, “The tested me. Over and over. I died a million times. Each time, I wanted it to be the last. Just not wake up. But they taught me how to use my strengths. How not to be afraid and do what needed to be done.”

She swallows around the weight of her collar and chooses her words carefully, “I’m sorry that happened to you. All of this sucks. We’ve been used and abused for so long and it sounds like what went on with you and Blaze really, really sucked.” She doesn’t dare look at the boys. “Maybe it’s time to put an end to it.”

She struggles to stand, using the wall for leverage. She doesn’t risk touching him but she can try to use her ability and pushes good stuff his way. Love, laughter, smiles around the dinner table at Rosalie’s. She digs in her own well of memories...using things like Atticus and Harry. Her team. The way she feels about them and their bond. He could be part of that—or could have. They’re tied, there is no denying that.

Except his barrier is too strong. The wall—as impenetrable as his skin.

“Let’s stop this. We don’t have to be pawns. We can just be people, Rex. People. Is that too much to ask?”

Rex’s eyes are glue to the floor and she think’s maybe, maybe he’s considering it, but she feels a flip in his emotions; the wall slams back up and a vicious curve lifts his lips.

“You think I regret my time at the mansion? My training?” He laughs but it’s bitter and dark. He reaches for Astrid, slipping his hand behind her neck. He pulls her close, right up to his body—his face. The men behind her tense and she will them to stand down. “You don’t get how much power I have. I’m not a pawn, Astrid. I don’t play superhero games; darting into burning buildings and waving at kids from parade floats. I’m not playing video games and fucking around with whatever friends with benefits kink you guys have going on. I’m a tool for powerful people—a powerful person—and I like my job.”

“You like being a terrorist?” Quinn asks.

He releases her and touches his collar, something that makes him look way more like a pet than he realizes, but there’s zero fear. No regrets. “My job is to get things done. Make shit happen, and if that involves blowing up a stadium of people, so be it. No skin off my back—literally. It won’t be the first time I’ve done it and it won’t be the last. I’m given a job. I do it. I get paid. I survive.”

“Jesus,” Owen says, “you may be more of a prick than Rowe.”

Rex laughs, his teeth white against his dark skin and the dimly lit room. A door out of sight opens and he says, quietly, “Speak of the devil,” and Rowe walks back in the room. He rubs his hands together, the detonator remote in his fingers.

“The game starts in ten minutes. We’ve got forty minutes until half-time and here is how this is going to happen.” He smiles gleefully. “When I say go, you’ll leave here and make your way to the field for half-time. If you don’t make it or do not show, you blow up. If you run away or try anything? You blow up. And if you try anything tricky, anything at all, and do not appear in the middle of that circle the minute the field clears…”

“We’ll blow up,” Quinn says. “We get it.”

“As a back-up, if you don’t follow directions and manage some sort of escape, then Rex blows up and I’ll hunt you down and you’ll really see what a prick I am.”

His words are chilling. Truthful. Not just a threat. And he smiles when they nod that they understand. “As promised, you get five minutes with your boy-toys. Don’t make me regret it.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Astrid

The twins of pain and destruction, Rowe and Rex, leave the room. The clock is ticking and she feels the heightening excitement of the crowd above deep in her chest.

There’s no time to waste.

“This sucks,” she says, reaching for one of them—all of them. Quinn takes one hand. Owen takes the other and Draco stands quietly behind, gray eyes boring into hers.

“We’re not dying today,” Quinn says, looping his arm around her waist.

“No, but the life we’re going to have? I don’t want that.”

None of them do but they’re trapped, collared, literally by a ticking bomb. There’s no option but to comply.

“Well if this is our last few minutes together, on our terms, I know how I want to spend it,” Owen says, yanking her toward him. Quinn lets her go and she falls into Owen’s strong, lean arms. He doesn’t hesitate, when does he? His mouth crashes against hers. His lips move slowly, forcefully like he knows he may never get the chance again, and when her knees start to buckle he pulls back, breathless. “Thank you for everything, Astrid. You changed my life.”

Her hands shake at his words, at the daring expression on his face, but there’s little time to think because Quinn’s hands run down her arms and he pulls Astrid into his chest. She instantly feels safe against his body, protected, and he pushes a strand of hair over her ear. Leaning his forehead to hers, he says, “Be safe, Astrid Petta, do Atticus proud,” before kissing her nose, her cheeks, and one long, sensual, overwhelming kiss on the lips.

She steps away and her lovers give her a respectful distance. Now it’s just her and Draco. Tension ebbs between them. She searches his emotions but gets nothing but strength and focus and the desire to survive.

It’s not the time to push him, she thinks, knowing his shield will be up. But it’s too late anyway and the clock runs out. The door opens with a loud creak and it’s time to face their fate. Draco grabs her as the others move away. His grip is tight and his mouth is close to hers.

“If we get out of this, I’m not wasting my chance again, got it?”

She nods, cheeks flaming. “Got it.”

He walks away and she feels his intent in her soul. Astrid swallows and touches the bomb on her neck.

Damn, if she didn’t have a reason before, she does now. They’ll have to figure out a way to survive this night.

*

Rowe and Rex are gone when they exit the room. There’s nothing but a long ramp and when they get to the top, they’re in a swarm of people dressed in Crescent City red and gold or Glory City’s black and silver.

“Good luck,” she tells them. “See you on the field.”

They push through the crowd, searching for the field. Well, everyone but Astrid. She darts into a thick group outside a stall selling beer. A loud roar races through the stadium, so thunderous she has to plant her feet from the wave of energy. It’s so intense it’s like fighting through an emotional tsunami.

Spotting a small alcove, she dips in and presses her com.

“Casper,” she says, “I need you.”

She waits. No reply.

“Cas, seriously dude, where the fuck are you?”

Static buzzes in her ear and almost cries when his voice comes across, “I-I-I’m here.”

“Casper, thank god. We’re in a shit-storm.” She explains Rowe and the bombs and the parameters of their task.

“I’m w-w-with Jensen. Here. And I-I-I heard Rowe.”

She leans against the wall, trying to calm her heart and mind. She’s overwhelmed, scared, and has no idea what to do. This is what she tells Casper.

“Don’t w-w-w-worry, babe,” he says, and she almost laughs. Even now, he’s ridiculous. “I’ve g-g-got this.”

And he tells her his plan.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Quinn

Fuck.

He felt it the moment she slipped away. Owen too, because the blond frowns and shakes his head.

Draco is also long gone.

“So that agreement thing…bullshit, huh?” he asks, feeling conspicuous in his costume. At least his matches the team colors.

Owen throws up a shield, giving them a moment of privacy. He tugs at his collar with his free hand. “What are we going to do?”

“Fight back?” he has no idea how. The odds are too high. There’s too many people to clear the stadium. Too much of a risk to aggravate Rowe.

His com squawks before Owen can reply.

“Ch-ch-charger?”

“Casper?” He mutters a prayer of thanks.

“Yeah, I n-n-need you to do something.”

“Anything, dude. We’re screwed.”

“L-l-look at this.” A blueprint pops up on the mask screen.

“Is that the collar?” Owen asks. He can see it too.

“I th-th-think I can shut down the bomb, but w-w-with your help.”

“Whatever you need. I’m ready,” Quinn replies.

“We both are,” Owen agrees.

“O-o-okay. I need you both on the upper level. Box l-l-level.”

“Can we get in?” Quinn asks.

Owen smiles. “I can get us in. Which box do we need to go to?”

“O-o-owners.”

They nod and Casper blinks out.

Over the seating entrance hangs a timer counting down the clock. They’ve got twenty minutes. “We better run.”

“Good thing I’ve been working out,” Owen says, dropping the shield.

Quinn laughs, feeling the bomb tighten around his throat. This may not work but at least they’re still fighting. “Winner gets to kiss Astrid first,” he says,  dashing toward the stairs.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Astrid

The black uniformed Task Force members stand between Astrid and the owner’s box.

“Hello, boys,” she says, rounding the corner. Guns raise, but she’s been training her whole life for this moment. She’ll take them. Take them all. “I’d think first before shooting.” She touches the bomb. “One false move…”

The guns vanish and all four men attack. Astrid takes them head on, relying heavily on the tools in her belt. She darts and weaves, punches and kicks. She throws three pebbles down the hallway, each exploding into heavy puffs of smoke. The distraction helps her get ahead and she tosses the weighted cable attached to her hip, binding two together. Two more come after her and she hears a loud zap behind her. Turning, she finds Quinn holding his electrified baton in his hands. He hits both soldiers in the chest, dropping them fast.

“Where were you five minutes ago,” she asks, wiping her forehead.

“You bolted. Not my fault.”

“Casper sent you up here?” she asks, glancing at Owen.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Quinn stops and holds his hands up.

“What?”

“I feel it. The electrical system—generators—or something. Right on this hall.” He moves away from the others.

“Where are you going?”

“To do what I do best.”

She and Owen watch him disappear behind a black door.

“Ready to go in?” she asks, feeling completely lost. There’s no way this will work. She barges into the owner’s box without knocking and finds herself in a room full of people decked out in Crescent City colors. They’re oddly quiet.

Out the window, the massive clock ticks down rapidly, eight minutes.

She recognizes a man by the window and says, “Mr. Mayor—” but he turns and what she sees startles her.

He’s wearing a bomb too.

“Why are you here?” he cries, and she slowly realizes that the whole place is filled with people wearing bombs. “You’re supposed to be on the field. He said he wouldn’t kill us if you were on the field. Why aren’t you on the field?!”

“What the hell?” Owen mutters, but Astrid has no idea. None. What is Rowe doing?

The lights flicker, browning before going out for good. Emergency lights blink on, including the giant scoreboard, still ticking down the time, five minutes... Hysteria rises in the stadium, the players stop mid-game and a voice, a familiar, douche-y voice comes across the sound system. Rowe.

“People of Crescent City, remain calm. Stay in your seats. The game will resume soon.”

“Casper?” Astrid calls into her com. “What’s happening here.”

“Three m-m-m-minutes, babe.”

But she doesn’t think they have three minutes, and Quinn races back in the room. “He says three minutes?” she says to him, all too aware of the scoreboard clock. “Why?”

“Do you trust him?” He reaches for her and touches the collar on her neck. She nods. “Hold my hand,” he offers one to Owen too.” He glances at the mayor and the others. “If you’ve got one of these around your necks, take a hand and don’t let go.”

Down on the field, there’s movement caught in the glaring emergency lights. The players have moved off the pitch and one man moves to the center ring: Rex. He holds up his hand. The detonator.

A flash comes from the sidelines and Draco, hulking and determined, charges Rex. The two fall and Rex may be invincible but Draco punches like a freight train, taking out the man and snatching the detonator out of his hands.

The clock ticks down: ten seconds, nine, eight, seven… Owen squeezes one hand and Quinn has the other. Owen’s eyes are closed tight and he mumbles under his breath. Praying? Cursing? She wants to kiss his mouth and make it all go away.

Five, four, three…

On the field, Draco yanks off his collar and throws as hard as he can in the air and presses the button.

A blast rolls over all of them and she waits for the end, but there’s just the heat coming off Quinn and the strength of his shield. The bombs on their necks flicker hot and then fizzle, lifeless and deactivated. The one in the air explodes but is small and uneventful.

When it’s clear they’re safe and that it’s over, Quinn lowers releases her hand and kisses her hard on the lips. “Let me get the lights back on,” he says, leaving her bewildered.

Mayor Steel touches his throat and Owen walks over, using his increased strength to pull the dead device off his neck.

“Thank you,” the mayor says, through noticeable guilt. He should be. He was willing to let a terrorist kill them.

Feedback screeches over the sound system.

“Sorry for the in-in-in-interruption, soccer fans! Hope y-y-you enjoyed the half-time show. Just a l-l-little reenactment of how super the Supers of Crescent City really are.”

The crowd cheers at the shout-out, giving Astrid the warm fuzzies. That and the fact Casper is speaking. In public. Shit is getting real.

*

They leave the way they normally do, out the back door with no fanfare. The city, other than the mayor, has no idea how bad tonight could have been without Casper’s and Quinn’s abilities to hack the hell of out of a computer and electrical system.

Jensen meets them outside in the parking lot, using his police light as a cover.

“Good work tonight,” he tells them, looking exhausted and worn out. “Unfortunately, Rowe got away.”

“And Rex,” Draco adds. He’s got a wicked bruise under his eye.

“Of course he did,” Owen mutters, running his hand through his hair.

“We’ll find him,” Jensen says, glancing at Astrid. “If we work together.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. She eyes each of her men, letting her eyes linger on Casper. “We’re stronger together. Look at what we did tonight.”

The Goblin drops his eyes to the pavement. She knows it’s too soon to push him too hard. But they’ll get through this. She knows it. For now, she’ll give him space.

“So, what’s next?” Quinn asks Jensen.

“Finding out who Rowe’s boss really is,” he says.

“Rex gave us some details,” Astrid says. “We may be able to use some of it.”

“T-t-tomorrow,” Casper says. “I-I-I’ve used up my daylight hours.”

Draco claps him on the back. “Let’s get you home.”

Quinn steps next to her as they watch the two men walk across the parking lot. “You made some progress, with both of them.”

“I think so.”

“They make us stronger. It’s worth it.”

She smiles. “Yeah, I think so too.”

The crowd starts to leave the stadium and people trickle into the parking lot. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she says, taking his hand and then Owen’s in the other. It was a long night. A trying night, and she never wants to do anything like that again. But with these guys? She’ll fight anyone—any time. Rowe’s day is coming, and she’ll be the one to bring him to justice.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Astrid

She’s leaning over the balcony rail when the door opens and closes behind her.  She hasn’t been able to sleep; too many thoughts occupying her mind about the past few days. Her body aches from the fight earlier, the punch she took from Rowe and the bruise around her throat.

The man behind her has an overwhelming presence. Powerful, and he told her he wouldn’t waste it if he had another chance. Is that why Draco’s here?

Cautious want flickers in her belly. What if he changed his mind?

He silently stands behind her for so long that she finally breaks the quiet and asks, “Second thoughts?”

“No.” His fingers graze her neck and she shivers. “Just taking you in.”

Astrid glances over her shoulder and takes him in. The broad chest, the sharp jaw, the hot desire in his eyes. She starts to turn but he moves quickly, pressing his body against her back. It’s sweet. Intimate. And she allows herself to lean into him.

He lifts her hair and kisses her neck, her ear, down the line of her jaw. It feels amazing—he feels amazing, and the stress and drama from the day dissipates with each and every touch.

She feels the strain in his pants, the hard heat growing between them. Arching her back, she rubs against him, loving that she excites him—because damn, the man is hard to read, but this? Crystal clear.

“I’m glad you came,” she says, turning to face him. She places her hands on his chest. “I was worried you couldn’t accept this—us.”

His lips curve into a smile. “I won’t lie—it’s a little weird for me. I’ve never been with a woman like you, and I’ve certainly never been part of a team like this. But I get it. I got it today when Rowe clamped that collar around your neck. When he clamped it around all of your necks, I knew I would lose something huge.” He brushes his nose across hers. “I don’t want to lose you or this team.”

“I don’t want to lose you either. And we can take it slow. On your terms. I know it’s a big change for you.”

He kisses her then, deep and passionately. His tongue slips in her mouth and she feels it down in her toes. Draco is pure, intense, and completely true. He’s genuine. If he wants her, he wants her. If he’s in, he’s in. She has no doubt about that.

Above the lights of the city, he shows her his commitment one kiss at a time and she proves to him she has what it takes to be with a man like him—as well as the others. They beat the clock once today. No one’s going to rush them now.

*

They stay up ‘til dawn, snuggled up from the wind, leaning against the glass door. The sunset crests over the Swamp, casting it in a shimmery glow. They talked all night, getting to know one another. And they kissed. Lord, they kissed.

Their bliss is interrupted by the grumbling growl of Astrid’s stomach. She clamps a hand over it and laughs. “I need waffles. So bad.”

They enter the dormitory holding hands. Harry greets them at the door and she scoops him up. He crawls up her shoulder to get a sniff of the man behind her. The cat doesn’t seem impressed but he also doesn’t hiss at Draco, so maybe it’s a pass.

Astrid hears the guys in the kitchen and heads that way. Draco pulls her to a stop before they leave the hallway. “You sure they’re okay with this?”

She laughs and shakes her head. This one. So big. So strong. So oddly insecure.

“Dude,” she hears Quinn say, “did you touch my kefir?”

“What the hell is a kefir?”

“It’s like milk but made out of grain enzymes,” Quinn explains. “It’s really good for gut health.”

“Grain enzymes? Are you fucking with me?”

“No. It kind of looks like yogurt. I had a bottle from the health food store in the refrigerator door and now it’s gone.”

From their hiding spot around the corner, Astrid rolls her eyes and stifles a laugh. Draco just looks amused.

“Oh that? Yeah, I thought that was spoiled milk. I threw it out.”

“You did what! That cost twelve dollars!”

“No. It was rotten milk. Even Harry wouldn’t eat that garbage.”

Harry perks up when Owen says his name and he jumps from her arms, running to his friend.  The two men in the kitchen look up and take in Astrid and Draco.

“Hi,” Quinn says. “We were wondering where you were.”

“Just up on the balcony.” She squeezes Draco’s hand. Quinn nods his approval and turns back to the refrigerator. “Draco said he’d make some waffles.”

Owen’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah? I don’t know, Quinn probably can’t eat a waffle, too many carbs or not enough parasites or something.”

“I don’t eat parasites,” Quinn snaps. “Probiotics. You should try some. Your stomach is a mess.”

“How do you know?”

“We share a bathroom!”

This devolves into another argument and Astrid ignores them, going to the cabinet for ingredients for waffles. These fools aren’t keeping her from breakfast. Plus, she kind of wants to see Draco wear an apron.

“Are they like this all the time?” Draco whispers, taking the mixing bowl and flour from her.

“Yes, but I’ve heard this is how big families act with one another.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Where did you hear this?”

“Fine, I saw it on the Disney channel.” She smiles. “It’s another weird thing at first, after being so isolated for so long, but now I like it.”

“You think we’ll ever get Casper up here?”

She leans against the counter and kisses him, right in front of the others, who are too busy arguing over kale versus spinach and who left the toilet paper roll on the bathroom counter to even notice.

“Oh yeah, I’m not stopping until I’ve won him over entirely.”

“And Rowe?”

She frowns. “He’s not invited. Sorry.”

“No,” he slips his arm around her. “Are we taking him out?”

“Him and his boss. They’re on my list.” She pushes a spoon into his hand. “Like waffles. Like Casper. Like those two idiots over there and definitely like you.”

“Draco, you believe in eating healthy,” Quinn says. “You have to, right? Because you’re a beast.”

“Dude was made that way,” Owen cries. “Genetically superior. He can eat whatever he wants!”

Draco turns to them and begins a long explanation about his personal diet and Astrid walks past them all to get the eggs out of the refrigerator. She takes a peek over the door, getting an eyeful of the men in her life, happy to see them all in one place, simply living with one another.

This is what Atticus wanted for her. It’s why he died. He wanted her to have a family and a purpose and even in the midst of dangerous people, she has it. She glances toward the heavens and says a quick thanks, and then joins her amazing group of men. Whatever they do, it will happen together. Fighting, saving and loving.

She can’t wait.

Thank you for reading Rogues: The Supers of Project 12, book 3 of the series! I love sharing this series with you guys and book 4, Heroes, will be out soon.

~*~

I wanted to take a chance to thank everyone that has encouraged me on this journey. I know this series is a little different but my favorite thing about the readers in reverse harem is their willingness to try something new. Astrid and her team needed a chance to come to life and three books in there is so much to explore.

Thank you to Jennifer for beta reading for me and always giving me hard but needed advice. Thank you to Vanessa for her editing services (VC Edits) and AngstyG for her fantastic covers. Thank you for the awesome ARC readers that do such an amazing job and the member of Angel’s Antics for fun times and support.

I’ll see you soon!

Angel

Looking for a new read? Try Huntress: Trial of Gods by Angel Lawson & LJ Swallow. Here’s a quick teaser!

Huntress: Trial of Gods

Chapter One

The day the sun eclipsed, a shadow crossed my soul. As I stood with the younger girls, and watched the sky darken, the birds stopped their song. The heat of the day vanished as the ring of fire enveloped the moon. Many have never seen an eclipse, and we reassured them the world wasn’t ending. The older women whispered that the gods were angry. I don’t believe in their old tales, but something felt wrong, unnatural, with the way the moon blocked out the sun.

I can’t explain why, but even after sun that reappeared it no longer held the same warmth as before. A chill settled in my bones.

Since that day a week ago, I’ve dreamed about my brother Apollo again, and when I wake in the night I see his face in the face of the moon.

The forest is warm this time of year, even after the sun dips behind the trees. My skin is salty with sweat, my hands stained from a day on the hunt. I killed a deer and two rabbits—all three with my bow. Iris took the bodies into the shed where she’ll skin and prep them for winter.

Victoria walks next to me, eyes ever alert on our way to the falls. My bow hangs on my back, still dirty from today’s hunt. “A few more days like this and we’ll be set for harsh weather, don’t you think?”

I nod in agreement, stepping over the roots and rocky path with my bare feet. “Iris will cure the meat. Hestia has grown enough herbs and spices to keep us in stock.”

It always seems too early to prepare for winter—for the lean days ahead—but two decades of living in the forests have taught me it’s never enough.

“Thank Zeus we do not have to worry about feeding males. Dione told me she watched them eat in the village. Barbaric, shoving handfuls in their mouth like swine.” She jabs me in the rib. “Sort of like you.”

I frown as much at her for invoking Zeus’ name as making fun of me. “I’m not that bad.”

She raises her eyebrows and a teasing grin lifts her lips. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed the difference between us. Her skin tans and turns a golden brown. Her eyes are bright blue like the sky. She has dainty fingers and her feet are never black with grime like my own. But she works in the settlement, not out in the woods like I do. Her calling isn’t with a bow and arrow but with keeping order for all the females.

There’s still a last bit of sunlight when we reach the edge of the falls and I peer into the clear pool, getting a look at myself. Red, wild hair that falls halfway down my back. My eyes are dark green. My cheek has a smear of dirt or blood across my pale skin. Even though I ruffled at Victoria’s comment barbaric may not be the wrong description. I’ve always had a desire for freedom, a urge to climb trees and hunt in the depths of the forest.

Which is fortunate, because I have no other choice.

Setting my bow on a large rock, I peel off the leather tunic and pants and leave them on the grass. The water is cool against my hot skin providing relief from a weary day. Victoria strips, leaving her smock and skirt next to mine. I watch her enter the water. Her breasts are smaller than mine. Her belly a bit rounder.  Her hair is never knotted like a wren’s nest. Not like my own. Hers is sleek and combed—braided neatly down her back.

“Here,” she says, offering me something from her satchel. It’s small lump of soap. “Aceso made it yesterday.”

I hold it up to my nose. “Smells like lavender.”

“She found a patch growing near the back fields.”

We lather and scrub, sharing the soap. Victoria takes a moment to remove a stubborn patch of dirt from my back. “Oh, your necklace is caught in your hair.” I feel her fingers gently pull away my hair from the chain. I touch the charm hanging from the front. It’s a half of a golden sun, the rays blazing like fiery hair. It’s my most prized possession--other than my bow. Since the eclipse it has felt like a heavy stone and not the delicate forged gold.

“Thank you.”

“What do you think they’re like?” she asks, kneading my shoulders.

“Who?” I know who she’s asking about. We’ve discussed it over and over.

“Men or even just a man.”

“How would I know? I’ve never seen one.” Although this isn’t exactly true. Not a lie either. I’ve seen one in my dreams. My brother. He’s a man now just as I am a woman.

“Aceso says they smell. And they have wide noses. Their arms are big.” She flexes her tiny bicep. I make one and it’s not much bigger but at least a small mountain of muscle appears. We laugh.

“I think they’re not worth thinking about. You know they don’t consider us.”

“What if they do?” she asks quietly. “Your father sent you here. He created this place for you to be safe. He must think about you.”

“Or he wanted me out of the way so he can continue his patriarchy over the world without the embarrassment of a daughter.” I swim away from Victoria. Climbing out of the water, my hair dripping wet.

Once we’re both lying on the grass to dry off, I feel her fingertips on my hip. I wince from the pain. “I fell. Chasing the buck. I’m sure the bruise will be worse tomorrow.”

“There’s salve in the pantry.” She looks up at the stars. “I didn’t mean to bring him up. Zeus. I know talking about your father is painful.”

I nod and say nothing. What is there to say? He tore me from my mother. My brother—a twin. He sent me to this place to be raised in freedom away from the dark, seedy politics of the world outside. It seems like a kind thing to do—except the hole it left in my soul hurts like hell.

It’s almost dark when we dress and head back to the hidden encampment. We cross the wards that keep our home safe from outsiders and find the rest of the group sitting by the fire, eating dinner. I grab my bowl and take a large scoop from the pot. The venison smells delicious. I offer Iris a smile as I take my usual seat.

A throat clears a few feet away and I brace myself. I’d hoped maybe we’d lingered long enough at the falls to miss Empanada’s nightly blessing. Not so lucky it seems and Victoria smiles sympathetically at me from across the fire.

Empanada takes a deep breath and begins. “We take a moment to thank our creator and protector, Zeus for providing us with a safe home, dense woods and capable women in our community. We’re lucky to have this safe haven from the politics and war of the outside world. Where the goddesses are treated as inferior and the gods dictate our moves. Here we are free to roam, live and survive as equals.”

The firelight flickers, crackling and snapping with roaring heat. Empanada’s eyes skim over me and my skin blisters. She’s, like everyone else, is aware of my lineage and the myths that swirl around my inclusion in this community. Even if Zeus was trying to protect me it still hurts to be pushed aside while my brother was accepted. Each woman is my sworn protector, dictated to keep me safe—even if I am the strongest and do not need their protection.

They need me.

That thought becomes truth when a twig snaps in the woods beyond the clearing. I hear the break, followed by a heavy footstep. Human not beast. I count the faces around the fire. Everyone is here which means whoever is out there isn’t one of us.

I’m up and standing on my seat in a heartbeat, bow out and arrow nocked.  Most of the women around me scatter although a few warriors move into position. I stretch my elbow back just as a shadow moves in the distance. I release the arrow, aimed true at the heart of the trespasser.

Thwick

I relax, knowing the point met its mark when I hear the sound of impact. Stepping forward I move to the edge of the clearing to see who got past the wards and dared approach our encampment.

I expect a body.

I find a man. Upright and walking toward me with the arrow tight in his fist.

“I’m looking for Artemis, daughter of Zeus and Leto.”

Without thinking I nock another arrow and say, “You’ve found her.”

His face comes into the firelight and I freeze, fully aware that this is no mortal. I’m spinning this over in my head when he declares, “Then I regret to inform you that your brother, Apollo, is dead.”

Chapter 2

My bow doesn’t waiver. It’s still trained on the man’s throat, but his words echo in my ears. “What did you say?”

“Apollo is dead.” His eyes soften. “I’m sorry.”

I become aware of the others behind me. The warriors and fellow encampment dwellers alike. I lower my bow and say to him, “You can’t be here. It’s forbidden.” Then I tilt my head in question. “How did you pass through the wards?”

“I came here as a messenger of Zeus.” Ah, my father could crash through any magic he wished. He looks at the weapons still aimed at him. “I mean no harm, but I do have to speak to you further. Privately.”

Curiosity along with the numbness of hearing the news about Apollo makes me careless. “I’ll meet you near the willow tree east of the ridge.”

He nods and vanishes back in the woods. Two of my fellow hunters silently follow him. I let them go. There could be more. This may not be as it seems.

I glance at Victoria who looks pale in the firelight. I offer her a tight smile while knowing our world has been irrevocably changed. I secure my bow on my back, the quiver in a leather sheath.

“I’ll be back,” I say to my friend.

“You can’t go alone. Take Danielle. She’s our second best shot.”

I’m the first.

I know I have to do this alone. That world, the one of gods and society and my father and brother is separate from this one. I won’t allow them to cross. I felt it in the eclipse that day. A light was snuffed. I have no doubt what this man says is true.

“Danielle,” I call and the curvy woman appears by my side. She carries a blade as well as her bow. “Arm everyone. Get the children inside. You’re in charge.”

She nods. “I’ll protect them.

“I know you will.

Victoria gives me a nasty look for subverting her idea. It doesn’t stop her from saying, “Be careful.”

“You too.”

I disappear into the dark. The woods are a sanctuary. I’ve spent countless hours combing the forest each day. It’s how I learned to hunt. To kill. I’m happier with my hands dirty, climbing trees or chasing animals, but something has always told me that my survival skills come as a gift from my father.

The moon lights my path and just before I reach the willow tree I pause and assess the messenger. The male. It’s not a fabrication that I’ve never seen one. I’ve never had the interest. I have my friends and companions. My activities and role in the encampment. Men are nothing more than a myth—something girls like Victoria dream about or a cautionary tale in Empanada’s weekly blessings. Beings obsessed with power and politics. But now there’s one before me. Two heads taller than I am. Hair the color of straw. It’s too dark to see the shade of his eyes but they look light, like Victoria’s. Gray perhaps. Maybe blue. His jaw is a fine sharp line and his nose slants evenly across his face. Lithe muscles line his arms and bulk up his shoulders. He carries a blade at his hip. A leather cuff around his wrist.

His clothing is not made of leather—or at least not all of it. It looks finely made, as if on a machine. The stitches are even and close together. The fabric vibrant colors, vivid blues and greens, the darkest black. His eyes skim the forest and pause when they reach me. He’s aware. Not a fool, although it’s unlikely my father would send someone ill prepared to find me.

I step under the long, wispy branches of the tree and approach him.

“What is your name?” I ask. Directness has never been a problem for me.

“Hati.”

“You aren’t Greek.”

“I’m from Odin’s realm.”

“Norse then.” I’ve heard tales of the Norsemen. Epic gods of war and battle. I find it curious my father would send someone from outside to seek me out—to tell me this news. But nothing Zeus does ever makes sense to me. “Tell me, how did my brother die?”

“He’s been at the Academy, training for the trials.” I watch the man closely as he speaks. The way his lips move. The lines of his face. They’re hard—not soft like the women in the encampment. Everything about him seems angular, from his shoulders to the tapering of his waist. His voice is deep, so much I can almost feel it in my chest. I move closer and take a discrete whiff. He smells different, too. Musky, like the scent of bears downstream in the fall.

“What trials?” I ask, then add, “What Academy?”

He tilts his head. “You do not know about these things?”

I shake my head. “I live in a world of hunting and gathering. We’re an isolated community. My father didn’t tell you?”

“He said to be discrete.” A smile lifts the corners of his lips. “And to watch my back. I believe his exact words were, “The women of Artemis’ village are deadly. Tread carefully.”” He looks at my bow. Assesses my muscles. “The Academy is the premiere school for training and educating the most elite gods of the three realms. Greek, Roman and Norse. Applicants begin when they are twenty-one and typically spend the next three years learning politics, bureaucracy and climbing the social ladder. Once attained they will begin a lifelong career in ruling the masses.”

“You still haven’t told me how my brother met his fate or explained these trials.”

“Apollo’s death was shrouded in mystery but I do know it took place at the trails, which,” he adds, knowing I’m only going to ask again, “are a standard challenge for each graduating class but three weeks ago it was announced that things would be different this year.”

“Different how?”

He looks vaguely annoyed by my questions but continues. “Your father, Zeus, is retiring from his position of leadership over the Academy. Everyone assumed he would give the role to Apollo, who is—was—coming of age and set to graduate this year, but he didn’t. Instead of appointing a successor he declared a series of trails to take place over the next school year. The winner takes his place.”

I absorb this information. One thing, other than the death of my brother, bothers me. “Why is my father retiring?”

“That I can’t answer.” He gives me a tight smile. “I’m nothing more than a messenger.”

“Again, how did my brother die? In these trials? An accident?”

“Apollo was the shining glory of the academy. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that he would win. Actually, he won the first challenge easily.” His eyes connect with mine and I feel something, a chill? Creep up my back. “Not everyone wanted your brother as their leader.”

“What are you saying?” I ask.

“Apollo was murdered.” He takes a deep breath. “And your father requests that you come back with me to the Academy.”

“What? Why?” Fear ripples through me.

“Because, Artemis, daughter of Zeus and Leto, he wants you to take his place and complete the trials in place of your brother.”

~*~

Grab your copy of Huntress or another book by Angel Lawson Today!

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(Reverse Harem)

Raven Queen’s Harem:

Raven’s Mark (Part 1)

Ebony Rising (Part 2)

Black Magic (Part 3)

Obsidian Fire (Part 4)

Onyx Eclipse (Part 5)

Midnight’s End (Part 6)

*Raven’s Gift (Holiday Novella)

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Huntress: Trial of Gods

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The Elites: Supers of Project 12

Sentinels: Supers of Project 12 (Book 2)

The Death Fields: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

The Girl Who Shot First

The Girl Who Punched Back

The Girl Who Kicked Ass

The Girl Who Kissed the Sun

The Girl Who Broke Free

The Girl Who Saved the World

Creature of Habit Series (Paranormal Romance)

Creature of Habit (Book 1)

Creature of Habit (Book2)

Creature of Habit (Book 3)

A Vampire’s Seduction (Ryan’s Story Book 4)

A Vampire’s Fate (Sebastian’s Story Book 5)

The Wraith Series (YA Paranormal Romance)

Wraith

Shadow Bound

Grave Possession

Urban Fantasy

The Lost Queen

Vigilant

Contemporary Romance:

FanGirl-A Girl Who Shot First Companion Novel

For the Win

Table of Contents

- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter One
- Chapter 2