Teague limped forward quickly but cautiously, holding his 9 mm pistol ready. Their luck was holding; they’d won three skirmishes since leaving the psych ward, and the bullet that had clipped his leg was their only injury. It hurt like hell, but didn’t slow him down. Ashlynn’s mental voice whispered, Group of five 50 meters
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Flames climbed the piece of paper in Addison’s hand, consuming a short list of numbers: 24, 9, 76. She, Shane, Teague, and a handful of others knew the numbers’ meaning. They were the number of Triptych employees who’d gone AWOL today, AWOL employees recovered, and the current count of co-conspirators. Nine, Addison marveled. Less than
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They either stared at him or wouldn’t look at him at all. One or the other. It made Shane want to scream, but of course he couldn’t. That mulatto bitch wouldn’t let him. How had everything gone so wrong? Shane watched the girl and her dweeb of a brother from the back of the let’s-make-pretend-we’re-scientists
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If Dad’s office hadn’t been saturated with blood, Jake would have lay down beside his father and slept, too.  He’d poured nearly all of his energy into healing Dad’s neck and stabilizing his vitals.  His father had lost what would normally be a fatal amount of blood.  The last thing Jake had done before his
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Ashlynn teleported back to Shane’s office to find Jake still kneeling by his father’s side, deep in concentration. The light of the crystal in her brother’s hand wavered unsteadily, casting nervous shadows. Jake was running out of energy. Ashlynn hoped that the healing he’d managed would be enough. It will, she told herself, then got
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Myers’ blood arced from his throat in a graceful scarlet parabola.  Idly rolling his prism between her fingers, Joon admired her handiwork from a safe distance.  The fountain’s height metered the bastard’s life, growing shorter with each heartbeat.   Then he smiled.   Joon snarled.  How dare he mock her during her victory?  Her eyes
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In his imagination Shane had killed Joon Ri dozens of times. Sometimes he’d bring her back just to kill her again. But in reality the woman lived. She was the monkey on his back, stomach, or any other part of him that she wanted. Between her knowledge about his screwed-up attachment to Harris and her
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