by Angel Lawson
Blood pours from his eyes, his ears, and he grins. “I’ll always be in your head, Astrid Petta. An echo along with everyone else. That may be worth it.”
The pain comes quickly, unexpectedly; slicing into her side. With a twist, Rowe takes a final breath, eyes fading. His weight falls heavy, she drops him and reaches for her ribs. Blood soaks her hands and she looks down, seeing the knife in his hand. He got in one last blow.
She falls to her knees, the pain too much. Her heart races in her ears, beating like a drum, and when the cool breeze washes over her she knows for certain no one came. Luby and Jensen are still down. Astrid closes her eyes, knowing that she may have won the battle, but wonders if there will be anyone left to care.
37
Casper
From the helicopter, the view of the sun rising over the harbor is magnificent. Monroe sent an army of physicians and soldiers that dropped into the Swamp to clean up the mess left by rogue superheroes and villains intent on battling it out.
Even the hint of gold and pink from the morning sunrise doesn’t help the bleak, abandoned housing project. Neither does the blood.
Draco, Owen, and Quinn are with the prisoners, seeking their own medical help back at the gym. None were in good shape. The fight with Rex and Blaze took its toll. A helicopter took them back just as Casper was headed in.
“She cut me off,” he’d told them over the com. “Yanked the fucking system out.”
“Can you find her?” Charger asked in a strained voice.
“Hell yes I can find her.” He shook his head and climbed into the waiting helicopter. Monroe’s pilot nodded. Two doctors were already in their seats. “I installed back-ups in all of your suits. I knew she’d pull something like this.”
She knew it, too, which was why she called for him.
He jumps out before the helicopter lands on the barren field left after one of the units burned to the ground. The playground is in sight, two limp bodies on the ground. He directs the physicians to go to them.
He peels off, watching her beacon over his display. Her heartbeat is low and singular. He gets nothing off Rowe. He rounds the corner of the building, morning light along with drops of blood guiding his way.
He picks up his pace, running now, fearful of her fading pulse. It bleeps in the display, slowing…until he sees the crumbled forms on the ground. Pulling out a taser, he checks Rowe, but he’s lifeless, neck and head askew. His display shows no sign of life, and he circles him to get to Astrid.
She’s lying in a pool of blood, knife jutting from her side.
“Babe,” he says, bending next to her. He does his best to keep his voice level. “B-babe…wake up.”
There’s no response.
He slaps the button on his chest. “I-I-I…f---fuuuck!” Blood oozes from the wound; he presses both hands over it. Taking a deep breath, he calls again, “I need help. Echo is down. Rowe is dead. I repeat: Echo is down.”
He knows better than to remove the blade, and his display shows the faintest of heartbeats. She’s still alive. He gets to his knees and lifts her, steadying under her weight.
“Help!” he calls, needing anyone, someone, to come help her. Casper isn’t big and he curses sending Draco and Quinn back, regardless of their injuries. His heart races, panicked about losing her. Losing everything. One of the doctors runs around the corner, eyes wide when he sees them.
“Get the chopper ready,” Casper says, holding her tight.
“Is she alive?” the medic asks.
“Barely.”
Blood soaks from her suit through his own. He feels the stickiness on his skin but only clenches her tighter as he’s helped into the helicopter. Luby and Jensen lie on the floor, both clinging to life.
The chopper rises and the medics tug Astrid from his hands. He looks down at the community below, Monroe’s olive-green-clad soldiers pouring in to secure the neighborhood.
Rowe may have lost the battle but we won the war, he thinks, feeling the adrenaline drain from his system, his eyes shifting back to the woman he loves. If he loses her, if the city loses her, they may never bounce back.
38
Astrid
Wet sandpaper tickles the bridge of her nose, pulling Astrid from the deep grasp of sleep. Dread fills her chest at the thought of opening her eyes. Is she back in the box? Down in the Swamp? Is there another battle ahead? She knows without looking that her body is bone-weary and in no shape for a fight.
Soft fur rubs her cheek, along with a deep rumble that forces her eyes open.
“Harry?” she whispers, coming eye-to-eye with her best friend. “Did we die and go to heaven together?”
“Seriously? You think people and cats go to the same place in the afterworld?”
Her head whips to the side, eyes snapping to connect with familiar bright green. His words are sarcastic—lighthearted, but the worry lines etched on his face, along with a stitched-up lip and heavy bruising, tells a different story.
Astrid’s hand goes to her ribs and she winces in pain.
“Rowe got in one last shot.”
“I snapped his neck.” The sound—the feeling echoes through the fog of her mind.
“Hell yes you did.” He moves closer to the bed and brushes her hair back. “God, I have never been so worried.”
“I had to end it.”
He nods. “You did. You ended it. Him.”
“Blaze? Rex?” If Owen’s face looked like this, she couldn’t guess what happened to them.
“Locked up. Along with Demetria. We got them all.”
“Locked up where?”
“Monroe has a prison facility on the island,” Quinn says from the doorway. His arms are crossed over his chest. He studies her carefully from a distance. Assessing each part of her body, but mostly lingering on her face. “They’re secure.”
She almost cries when she sees him and Owen wraps his hand around hers. She sucks in a breath. “Draco? Cas?”
“Both alive. Good. They’re down the hall. Lucky for all of us, Casper had you wired twice. He had his eyes on you the whole time.” She opens her mouth to speak but he adds, “Jensen and Luby are fine, too. We’ve got a whole medical bay set up in here.”
Here, she realizes belatedly, was her old apartment—her old room from before she moved to the dormitory. Harry circles her lap, looking for a comfortable spot, and she grimaces when he gets too close to her wound.
“Come on buddy,” Owen says, lifting the yowling cat. “Let’s get you some cheese.”
He kisses her on the forehead and leaves the room.
“So Rowe and Scheid are dead.”
Quinn nods, entering the room. He looks terrified to touch her. “Both confirmed.”
She wished this made her feel better, but the loss of it all is too much. “How’s the Swamp?”
“Honestly? A mess. The mayor is asking for federal assistance.”
Tears build and she blinks them back. “How did this happen? How did it get so out of control?”
“Those sins are not on us, Astrid. We’re the result of years of corrupt experimentation, not the cause.”
She watches him, this rock of hers, she’s loved him almost since the day they met. “We’re going to keep fighting, right?”
He smiles. “Always. Like Atticus and Holden wanted.”
He takes her hand and kisses the back, his lips chapped from what she assumes was the heat from Blazes fire. She reaches for him and runs her thumb over the dry skin. “You’ll have to tell me what happened.”
“Don’t worry. We will. Even the part where Owen and Draco almost beat the shit out of each other instead of dealing with Rex.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Please tell me that drama is over.”
“It’s amazing what almost losing someone you love does to you.”
She links her hand with his and says the only words that come to mind. “I love you, too.”
Even with
a fast-healing body and a dedicated medical team, Astrid’s wounds take time to mend. Along with the stab wound, she suffered a concussion, a few cracked ribs, and too many bruises to count. But just because she’s out of commission doesn’t mean the rest of the city is. Jensen, using leverage from his days at the agency, is appointed Deputy Mayor with direct orders to oversee the reconstruction of the Swamp.
Astrid releases a pent-up breath of tension when she hears that. It’s time for a change in Crescent City.
A week after the final battle, Draco leads her to the rooftop. She’s in her hoodie and leggings and the warm heat of the day lingers on the roof. She walks across the mural Luby painted, marveling in his creative ability.
“He’s been approached by several art representatives,” Draco says, following her gaze. “When the national news crews came in, they got a good look at this painting as well as a few others he’s made around the city.”
“That’s incredible,” she says, feeling conflicted. “I don’t want him to leave, but if he can find a future out this disaster, one that allows him to create his art…” She wipes away a tear. She can’t stop crying and the constant surge of emotions is pissing her off. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Draco takes her face in his hands. “You’re exhausted? Overwhelmed? Burnt out? I know I feel all of that.” He leads her to the edge of the rooftop and they overlook the park and the Swamp beyond. There’s not a lot to see from this distance, but cranes are being assembled and the fences blocking residents from entering and exiting the south side of town are gone. “But that fight wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “They’re rebuilding. Jensen has a new focus. The community is coming together instead of apart.”
There’s truth to his words—she can see it with the gates gone and the refugees back home.
“How do we keep it from happening again?” she asks. “How do we know there aren’t more of us out there?”
His jaw is a hard line as he considers her words, gray eyes focused on the horizon. His hands, the ones that have touched her—loved her--grip the wall surrounding the rooftop and he sighs. “We keep the suits,” he declares. “And we establish ourselves as the guardians of this city—of the powers we hold. We align with Monroe and keep tabs on her and her experiments and the prisoners on the island.”
“You think that’s enough?”
Draco faces her, his intensity burning high. “We owe it to our mentors and parents to do everything we can.” He leans in and kisses her, mouth hard, tongue hot. “I’m in this ‘til the end, Astrid. With you. With the team.”
She links her arms around his neck, careful with her injury. Draco is a beast of a man—her beast of a man—she feels so lucky to have him by her side.
“So what do we do now? Are you going home? Will we stay here? What about the gym?” There’s a million questions and she’s still too overwhelmed to think about them all. The future of the city, what she can do to help, and when she can just simply be with her boys again.
“I think that’s something we’ll have to figure out together, don’t you?”
She nods and they shift their gaze back to the sunset slowly dipping below the horizon. Astrid leans into his side, feeling safe and warm and for the first time in months, like she can finally breathe.
She finds him down in the Lair, plugging away at something on the computer. He looks up when she walks in, dark eyes brightening when he sees her in the doorway in a T-shirt and shorts.
“What are you working on?” she asks. It’s late. Prime Casper hours when everyone else is asleep and he’s down here doing his thing.
He leans back in the chair and reaches his hand out to her, skimming the back of her thigh with his fingers.
“Figuring out the best way to get high-speed internet into the Swamp. The infrastructure down there is a nightmare. I’ve spoken to Jensen. Upgrades are a priority.”
“Look at you, turning all civic-minded.”
He smiled up at her. “S-someone taught me how to use my powers for good and not evil.”
She nudges his chair back and takes the liberty of sitting in his lap. His arm links around her waist. “You’ve never been evil, Cedric. A little mischievous. Dirty-minded for sure, but not evil.”
“I’ve also upgraded all your systems for the gym. Membership, accounting, trainer schedules. It was like 2003 up there.”
“Thank you.” She bends and kisses him on the neck softly.
“You know I can’t be involved with a company with antiquated programs.”
She brushes his hair back. “I know babe, I really appreciate it.”
He watches her closely. “How’s the concussion?”
“A few headaches but way better.”
“And the stitches?” His hand slides to her side.
“Out. Just a little bruised on the ribs.” He nods, eyes flashing. “What?”
He shrugs.
“What?” There is definitely something on his mind.
“I’m just thinking about when you’re all better.”
“What about it?”
“Just all the dirty things I’m going to do to your body. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
Her eyes shift to his lips. For a semi-recluse, Cedric is an amazing kisser, and sitting on his lap makes her remember how he felt in her mouth. She touches his chest. She’s well aware the boys have taken him into the gym and started him on a full training regimen. “Dirty doesn’t necessarily have to mean rough, you know.”
“I’ve got a lot to learn.”
She smiles slowly. “I am a fantastic instructor.”
There’s no denying the growth between his legs. “So, you take beginners?”
“All levels.” She licks her lips. “And there’s one thing I’m especially good at.”
“What’s that?” His Adam’s apple bobs.
“I’m not one of those people that stands on the sidelines. I get in the ring. Lead by example. A fully immersive lesson.”
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Only because you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven, babe.”
He groans and she eases into his chest, knowing that soon she’ll make all of this man’s dreams come true.
39
Astrid
She’s read stories about soldiers coming back from war. How they need time to process before rejoining society. How before planes and helicopters they travelled by horseback, by boat, to and from the battlefield, giving them time to prepare for what was coming and time to decompress from what they had seen.
Astrid and her team didn’t have that choice. They were stuck on the battlefield of their city, in a home filled with refugees and wounded. Even after they get the all-clear, their roles aren’t easily defined.
Who are they now?
Teammates?
Friends?
Family?
Lovers?
In her heart she knew it was all of the above, but how does one express that? How does one declare the path ahead when the journey to this place was created from fear, destiny, and a bundle of raging, intimacy-deprived hormones?
These are the questions on Astrid’s mind as she steps into the gym for the first time in weeks. Her gym. She trained here. Worked here. Fought here.
The sound of padded gloves slapping against one another catches her attention.
“Steady,” Draco says. “Keep your arm up. Don’t let him sneak one in there.”
“This is a bad idea,” Quinn says.
“What? I literally have one hand tied behind my back. If Casper can’t take me like this then he’s a total wuss.”
“Shut the fuck up, Owen,” Cedric huffs.
“Make me.” There’s a smile behind the threat.
Astrid walks around the corner and finds her boys in the ring. Well, two in the ring, two on the sidelines. Cedric and Owen square off while the other two watch from the outside.
Owen’s right hand is still in a cast, his
fingers re-set after the fight. He has two more surgeries to go and that’s exactly why Astrid shouts, “What the hell are you doing?”
All eyes shift to her. Owen slips the glove off his left hand and it falls to the floor.
“We were sparring,” Cedric says.
“I know that.” She approaches the ring, eyes pinned to Owen. “You have a broken hand. Why are you in the ring?”
“We thought it would be a fair-er fight.” Owen smiles with pride. “You know, since I’m down a hand. You didn’t expect him to get in the ring with one of those two, did you?”
Draco and Quinn avoid her gaze. She shakes her head. “I didn’t expect him to get in the ring at all.”
Cedric approaches her, his lips curved in a smirky smile. “C-come on babe, you didn’t expect me not to learn the ropes? Not now that I’m part of the active team and not just hiding behind my computer.”
She touches his chin. “You weren’t hiding. We need you there. That’s your job.”
“I’ve been working on my skills lately. I think I can probably hack into a computer—with my mind.”
She stares at him, at the possibilities. Holy shit. The others seem equally impressed. “We’re not hacking into anything. We’re taking a break. To heal. The city is better. They don’t need us anymore.”
Cedric spreads the ropes and nods, encouraging her to enter the ring. She does, still not pleased with any of this. Draco and Quinn step inside and they’re all together, mostly healthy—definitely alive.
“Look,” she starts, “I just think we all need to take a break, maybe. Figure out what we want to do with our lives. What we want to do with…you know.”
“No,” Quinn says, crossing his arms. “We don’t know.”
“I don’t want to force any of you to stay. We fought the battle our mentors prepared us for. If we want, we can…” She can’t say the words.
