Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I pushed the power button.
Elias surveyed the nine-member assault team in full battle gear. The best Cold Chaos had to offer. They looked ready. Everyone was rested. The sun was up. It was time.
He turned back to the black hole of the gate. “Alright. Let’s do this.”
The electric glow of the phone screen lit up the tunnel. Only two percent of the charge left, but it was enough. Just enough.
The camera wouldn’t work and I couldn’t waste any charge on it. I couldn’t see myself. I didn’t know what I looked like now or if I had enough humanity left in me to exit. My hands shook from the pressure.
I scrolled through my contacts, found the right name, and tugged the sleeve of my coveralls over my sword bracelet. Here is hoping I won’t need it.
I was still me. I was Ada Moore. It had to let me out.
There was only one way to find out.
“Come, Bear.”
My dog wagged her tail, and we strode into the gate.
I half-expected an impenetrable barrier to stop me, or a flash of pain, but there was none. I sank into the gate, pushing my way through the invisible Jello. The familiar pressure squeezed me. I pushed through it.
The heaviness vanished.
I smelled Earth’s air.
The sky spread before me, gorgeous and blue, backlit with the first rays of sunrise, and I had never seen anything more beautiful.
We were out. We were home. I’d been trapped in the damn breach for so long, this didn’t feel real. It felt like a wishful dream.
Now I had to stay alive.
In front of me, an assault team was walking to the gate, their gear dyed in Cold Chaos indigo. They saw me and froze, their faces shocked. A large man in the front, enormous in his adamant armor, stared at me as if he’d seen a ghost.
I pushed the contact on my phone and put the call on speaker.
“You have reached the Chicago DDC office,” a female voice said into the phone.
“Assessor Adaline Moore,” I spoke into the phone. “Personal code 3725. I’m out of the Elmwood gate. I’m alive and uninjured.”
The voice on the other end vibrated with urgency. “Do you require immediate assistance?”
“Not at this time.”
I hung up. My phone died.
It was done. I had reported in. Cold Chaos couldn’t disappear me now.
To the left, behind the large man, a familiar face swung into view, bleached white. London.
I moved forward before I realized I had done it.
He just stood there.
I cleared the distance between us in a single breath. My hand drew back almost on its own.
Control your strength, control your strength, control your strength…
Panic burst in London’s eyes. His talent shot out of him, trying to shield him from me, but I was already swinging, and my fist tore right through his blade warden force field like it was a soap bubble.
I hammered a punch to London’s jaw.
The blow took him off his feet. He flew backward and landed on his back.
Yes! That felt amazing. I wished I could rewind time so I could punch him again. If only I had that power, I would just sit here and do this all day.
London tried to rise. Bear lunged forward like a bullet and pinned him to the ground. Her fur stood on end. Her mouth gaped, big teeth bare and wet with drool. She snarled like a monster from hell and clamped onto London’s right shoulder.
Well, at least it wasn’t his neck. That would’ve been too fast and easy.
London cried out.
“Drop him.”
Bear growled, her mouth full of London’s arm.
“Not food,” I told her. “Just human garbage. Back.”
Bear let go, snarled at London in case he didn’t get the point, and ran back to me, tail wagging.
London collapsed back onto the pavement. A man dashed to his side, knelt by him, and put his hand on the blade warden’s chest. A faint golden glow bathed London.
The big man in armor looked at the healer. The smaller man nodded. I finally recognized the two of them. The one kneeling by London was Merrick Jackson, Cold Chaos’ miracle healer. The man in armor who looked like he popped out of some medieval knight film was Elias McFeron. The Guildmaster of Cold Chaos.
Behind London, someone made a strangled noise. I looked up. Melissa was standing by one of the trailers next to a man in mining coveralls. Our gazes met. Fear slapped her face. She shoved the man out of the way, pushing him between us, and took off running.
The site was silent like a tomb. Nobody moved.
Melissa kept running down the street, to the intersection. She turned right and ran out of view.
“Leo,” Elias said in a deep voice. “Please inform HQ that Melissa Hollister has turned in her resignation, effective immediately. And call Haze.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man who answered was in his thirties, handsome, athletic, and his eyes were pure white. The light tactical armor fit him like a glove. I knew him, too. Leonard Martinez, Vice-Guildmaster of Cold Chaos. Cold Chaos had brought their best guns to take on the gate.