I didn’t trust him.
I never had.
I’d recognized him that very first day. He had a face I would never fucking forget. Eyes that shone with evil. He had everyone fooled.
Everyone but me.
And Mimic.
We’d talked about him. I told him I didn’t trust the man, but I didn’t tell him why. I couldn’t. Not yet. Mimic didn’t trust him either. But he told me to wait. He said to trust King. And I did. But he didn’t know what I knew. That was my fault. I should have told him immediately who he was.
Nemesis.
He hid in the shadow of goodness. Making a name for himself—a name people feared with reverence. They didn’t know what he was truly capable of. But I knew.
I’d seen it.
Experienced it.
He thought he’d gotten away with it. Thought I didn’t know who and what he was. He didn’t know I remembered everything. Every fucking thing he’d ever done to me.
There were men and women who weren’t in the Trick Pony files. Something people didn’t know—that no one had figured out yet—was that Devlin Scott wasn’t the man in charge.
Oh, he ran the Trick Pony. He was the name and the face of everything. The truly evil and sadistic men and women had designed it that way so they would never be found out.
Only, now was my chance to take one of them out. He would just be another casualty in a war that had nothing to do with him. An ally caught in the crossfire.
The explosion had given me the moment I needed. Everyone was disoriented. Except me. I’d been trained to withstand every scenario. I’d been created to be unkillable. To be the last one standing.
Me and my sisters.
He aimed his gun, ready to take out the enemy. For every three or four enemies he shot, he shot an ally. Men were dropping like flies, but taking him out would even the playing field.
I jumped onto his back. My hand yanked his forehead as he stumbled back into the darkness. My blade sliced into the skin under his ear, and I sneered, “Gotcha, motherfucker.” His eyes widened at the sound of my voice, and my knife sank deeper into his neck as I slid it across his throat.
His gurgled protest brought a smile to my face, and he fell to his knees. I let go of his head and moved on. Never thinking about him again.
Morpheus
Rushing out of church, I bumped into Cerberus.
“Just like old times, huh, Prez!” The crazy fucker smiled, popping off rounds as if he were at a carnival booth determined to win the big prize.
“Just kill as many as you can and try not to get yourself killed in the process!” I shouted, rushing past him and into the fray. Clutching my machetes in both hands, I made quick work of the dead fuckers coming for me. Reaper wasn’t the only one good with a blade.
Still, I had to give it to the fucker; he was proficient.
Blood sprayed across my sleeves as I spun, narrowly dodging a grasping hand. The chaos was deafening—gunfire, screeches, the sharp ring of steel splitting bone. I glimpsed Cerberus laughing maniacally, bullets tearing through the advancinghorde. The adrenaline coursed through me, sharpening every sense as we fought side by side, just like in the old days.
Everything was changing. I knew, and so did Cerberus.
Our time was quickly coming to an end, and soon, I knew the younger generation would take over. There was still a lot they had to learn, and until they all knew the real truth, I couldn’t walk away. Besides, I still needed more time with Firestride.
That thought stopped me.
Looking around at the chaos, I frowned, then shouted at Cerberus, “Where is Joshua?”
“Haven’t seen him!” Cerberus shouted, firing off more rounds as a bullet caught him in the arm. “Haven’t seen the others either!”
