Cheers erupt in the crowd, but a few boos come from the Epsilon.
“Ry,” I say as a few Epsilon bare their teeth. “Get Gianna out of here.”
Ry takes Gianna’s hand, but she digs in her heels.
“Be careful,” she says to me.
“You fancy yourself a king!” an Epsilon woman shouts at Stellan, who shakes his head.
I snap my focus on Stellan as the men with Michael Bersa hurl profanities. Epsilon voices rise, each obscenity a verbal dart aimed at Stellan’s composure. The nearest Nebula retaliates, insults flying back. The groups inch closer, and my muscles tense for a fight. The crowd shifts around me. It’s only a matter of time before the fragile peace shatters, unleashing chaos. The Blades brandish their weapons.
“We won’t let you take our businesses and drive us out of our city!” another Epsilon screams.
“Now, settle down.” Stellan tries to manage the crowd, but a Nebula man throws the first punch, sending the shouting Epsilon businessman to the ground.
For a moment, no one moves. Stellan’s taken aback expression hangs in the square. I think the worst is over, but in an instant, the fallen Epsilon’s friends retaliate, throwing fists, kicking, biting, and summoning magic.
“Go now,” I tell Ry, and he tugs Gianna.
I push through the crowd to Stellan, frozen, his mouth agape as the carnage unfolds.
“Stop, please, all of you, if you could just listen . . .” Stellan pleads, but the fighting drowns out his words. He wipes the sweat from his brow, his eyes darting across the scene, buthe doesn’t intervene. There isn’t much he can do. Stellan is a journalist, not a fighter.
Two Epsilon men storm the stage, and Stellan’s guards conjure a magical barrier around him. But their efforts are short-lived as the fight escalates. Within moments, Stellan’s men lie battered and bruised, blood pooling beneath them on the stone steps. Stellan backs away, arms raised in surrender.
“Please,” Stellan begs, his words falling on unhearing ears.
I push against the sea of bodies that separate me from Stellan, desperation fueling every move. If the Epsilon harm or, even worse, kill him, the consequences will be catastrophic. The Nebula will rise against them in droves, their anger and grief igniting a fire that will consume the city. The Council will have no choice but to intervene, transforming Aurora into a war zone.
The Council will never believe that Stellan genuinely cares for the Nebula. Though his message was not well-received today, he remains a beacon of hope for the Nebula’s fight for change. If Stellan falls, so does the chance for a peaceful resolution.
The Epsilon men close in on Stellan, each step taunting him.
I shove a burly man out of my way and race up the steps. An Epsilon man lands a brutal punch to Stellan’s face. I reach for my gun. More Epsilon men apprehend Stellan, who opens his mouth, likely to beg for his life or reason with them, but they silence him with a swift kick to the gut.
Doubled over and gasping for air, Stellan falls to his knees. One attacker reaches into his jacket and pulls a gun from the holster, aiming at Stellan’s head. Stellan’s eyes widen.
“The only way more people will follow you is in a funeral march,” the gunman sneers, his finger tightening around the trigger. Mine tightens as well.
He inhales, and I do the same. Before the gunman can exhale, I fire. The resounding bang leaves my ears ringing as the man pointing a gun on Stellan falls to his knees, crying in agony.His blood stains his shirt where my bullet buries itself deep in his rear deltoid, just as I intended.
For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. The Epsilon restraining Stellan stare at me in open-mouthed horror before releasing him and vanishing into the uproar. Sirens blare through the square, heralding the arrival of reinforcements.
I exhale. So much adrenaline courses through me that my limbs tremble. I quickly approach Stellan Navis, hunched over and shorter than expected. He carries himself like a larger man.
“We need to get you out of here before they arrest you for inciting violence,” I say as I pull him up from the blood-stained steps. Gratitude shines in his one good eye; the other is swollen shut.
“Thank you,” Stellan whispers, shaking.
I nod. This choice to save him will have consequences. My attack on an Epsilon man will be broadcast all over the country. Leigh will see it, and people will question if I’m on Stellan’s side. However, I am positive now that Stellan is our best hope for finding a peaceful resolution to this conflict between the factions, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that a reality.
The violence continues as I yank Stellan into an alleyway. He leans heavily against me, his breath coming in short, pained gasps. His hot blood seeps through my shirt.
“We need to find somewhere to stitch you up and lie low,” I say. “The Council will order the Blades to find instigators in the uprising, and we can’t risk getting caught in the crossfire.”
Stellan nods, his face ashen and drawn.
I adjust my grip on him, taking more of his weight. The adrenaline that fueled me during the fight is fading, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. But I can’t afford to rest yet. I just pray that when Leigh watches the footage, she trusts that I rescued Stellan for her sake. I’m convinced that if Stellan and Leighmeet, this fantasy of an enclave will disappear, and they can stitch this fraying country back together.
