Doors along the perimeter burst open. Quinn’s private security flooded the atrium—uniformed men, human and Umbrakynn, armed with shock-batons and sidearms. They were the rank and file, the sheer mass of the first line of defence. Expendable assets.
“Shields!” I shouted.
I snapped my hand forward. Darkness erupted from my skin, solidifying into a curved barrier of heavy shadow. On my right, Goran matched the move, his magic flaring to seal our flank with a dense wall.
Dane slotted into the pocket between us, using our cover to line up his shot.
A hail of suppression fire—bullets and kinetic spells—hammered against the dark wall. The shadows absorbed the impact with dull, wet thuds.
I braced against the onslaught, widening the arc. “Clear them.”
Goran ploughed through the barrier like it was smoke. He seized the nearest guard by the tactical vest and launched him. The man crashed into the rank behind him, collapsing the line in a tangle of limbs and armour.
Dane dove low, rolling under the line of fire, popping up in the middle of a cluster of guards. He fought with a brutal, police-trained efficiency—kneecaps, elbows, throats. He didn’t have magic to protect him, but he had speed.
A guard raised a kinetic blaster, aiming at Dane’s exposed back.
I snapped my fingers. A tendril of shadow lashed out, wrappingaround the guard’s ankle and yanking him off his feet before he could pull the trigger.
Dane finished his current opponent with a driving blow to the collarbone. He had avoided the head, dropping the man with precise, non-lethal force. He glanced back at me. A curt nod.
“More noise,” I shouted over the alarm. “They’re trying to contain us in the vestibule.”
I dropped the defensive shield and switched to offence.
I summoned the shadows from the corners of the vast room, dragging them into a swirling vortex in the centre of the lobby. I fed it my anger, my fear for Selene, my hatred for this place.
I released it.
The blast tore through the central installation, buckling the spinning silver rings and shearing them apart. Twisted metal sprayed across the atrium as the shockwave blew out the reception windows, sending thousands of glass shards raining against the marble floor.
That got their attention.
The lights in the lobby sputtered and died, replaced instantly by emergency crimson strobes. The regular lifts locked down with audible clunks.
“That should do it,” Goran grunted, blocking a strike from a stun-baton with his forearm and backhanding the attacker into unconsciousness.
Magic charged the atmosphere. The central lift bank chimed, and the gilded doors slid open.
Varessia Quinn stepped out. She wore an expression of icy annoyance, like a CEO interrupted during a merger. Her pristine white suit glowed against the red emergency lighting.
Six guards flanked her—Umbrakynn elites. They towered over the rank and file, their eyes swimming with a milky, augmented haze and their tactical armour crackling with active shielding.
Varessia surveyed the wreckage of her lobby—the shattered glass, the groaning guards, the three of us standing in a pool of shadows.
Her eyes locked on me. A faint, cold smile touched her lips.
“Riven,” she projected, her voice amplified to cut through the noise. “The staged arrest was a clever ruse. But killing my retrieval team? That was simply expensive.”
She descended the mezzanine stairs, her guards moving in a fluid phalanx around her.
“And you brought accomplices to share the bill. How thoughtful.”
I moved forward, letting the shadows coil around my shoulders like a cloak. My hands were empty of steel, but my fingers were wreathed in dark smoke.
“Stand aside, Varessia,” I said, my voice low and final.
“You always were a bad investment,” she replied, stopping ten yards away. The augmented guards spread out, weapons raised. “Liquidate them. I have a schedule to keep.”
