It’s midnight, and we’re crouched behind some barrels in what looks to be an abandoned factory. Rusted machinery juts out like jagged teeth from the ground, and the air smells of oil and dirt. It took four hours to reach the destination. We’re in a different borough, and I’m not quite sure exactly what it is we’re looking for. We weren’t briefed in advance.
Everyone is huddled with their squad leader except for me. I’m the only one who is next to Ender.
“Rebels were spotted east of the industrial sector,” Ender says, voice low, eyes scanning the darkened skyline for any movement on the roof. “We move fast. Capture if you can, kill if necessary. But make no mistakes, or you’ll have to answer to me.”
Adrenaline thrums through me. Either this is Prue and her team or another faction of the Resistance. I don’t know how I’ll protect them under Ender’s watchful eyes, but I’ll have to try.
I can’t let them get hurt.
We move in silence. Ender walks ahead, shoulders rigid, senses on high alert. I follow closely. My ears strain to capture the faintest signs of motion.
Ender grabs my arm. “Stay by me. You are at a disadvantage with no powers. Understood?”
I nod in his direction.
“I’m serious, Warrick, if you disobey one order, you’re done,” he warns. “You can back-talk me all you want outside of this place, but on missions, I am your leader.”
“Yes, sir,” I say to appease him.
I have no intention of getting myself benched from future missions.
“Wait, I can back-talk you outside of assignments?” I ask.
Ender resumes his pace.
“It’s not like I can stop you,” he mumbles.
I smile in the dark. I’m glad he knows better.
We walk in a straight line towards the big red double doors. A small creak sounds when Knox and Orion draw it open.
We’ve barely taken a step inside when the hallway erupts in sudden movement.
Rebels burst out from the shadows, converging on us like magnets.
Smoke bombs are thrown in the space between us, clouding our vision. We slip on our masks, prepared for any noxious fumes. Grunts sound as the fight begins.
Spider is the first to dive into the throng. I just know he’s grinning under his mask.
One of the rebels, a wiry girl with gray eyes that shine like stardust, swings her arms, and the stagnant water that puddles on the floor coils unnaturally around her fingers. It twists, snakes through the air, and lashes at Ender like a living whip. She’s probably an Elementalist with an affinity for water.
Ender pivots, narrowly avoiding the strike. He waves his hand, mimicking her own maneuver against her, except that his is an illusion. The girl doesn’t know that, and she evades his power.
Another rebel—a broad-shouldered boy with tattoos crawling up his neck—pounds the concrete, and the floor cracks beneath us. Like Grayson, he has Strength, but unlike Grayson, he isn’t my friend.
He uses the distraction of the unstable floor to charge at me. I move away from his meaty fists. One strike and he’ll shatter my bones to dust.
“Stop,” I hiss. “I don’t want to hurt you. I am?—”
The boy doesn’t care to listen; he’s too busy trying to kill me. Someone appears beside him. It’s the brown-skinned woman with the braids who transported Prue away from the battle.
“Not her,” she whispers, locking eyes with me. “The others.”
She disappears with him to the other side of the room.
I glance to my left and see Aric shooting me a suspicious look.
An Elementalist throws a ball of fire at his shoulder, drawing a ragged scream from his throat. Whoever that was deserves a big kiss for taking his attention away from me.
