They barely made it past the chain-link fence when the sound hit them.Not sirens. Not bullets.Clapping.Slow. Mocking. Sharp enough to slice through the adrenaline crackling in their veins.Davion spun around, yanking Beverly behind him. The SUV screeched to a halt behind them, Wilson yelling something, but his voice was drowned out by the thump of blood in Davion’s ears.A figure stepped out of the dark like a movie villain who didn’t get the memo that reality wasn’t supposed to be this dramatic.Lean. Hoodie half-zipped. Combat boots worn down by years of bad choices. That smug, tired smile on his face like he’d been waiting all his life just to ruin Davion’s day.“Reaper,” Davion said, voice cold.Beverly stiffened. “No freaking way.”“I’ve been waiting, Romeo,” Reaper drawled, voice rough like gravel soaked in venom. “You kept me waiting.”Davion didn’t move. His jaw clenched so tight, his teeth might crack.“Get in the car,” he told Beverly, not looking at her.“Not a chance,”

The hallway to Iron Hand’s chamber smelled like blood and burning incense.Reaper hated it.He stalked forward anyway, boots echoing against polished stone. Mad Tiger followed behind, slower, his coat still stained from whatever fight he’d crawled out of last. His cheek had a fresh bruise, and one of his fingers was bent in a way that fingers weren’t supposed to bend.Reaper didn’t ask.He didn’t care.Not right now.At the end of the hall, the double doors stood like the gates of hell — carved blackwood, twisted metal handles, and those creepy sigils that pulsed when you got too close.Mad Tiger hesitated.Reaper didn’t.He shoved the doors open with both hands.Iron Hand sat in his usual spot — high-backed leather chair, hands steepled under his chin, like a freaking villain in a boardroom. Screens lined the walls behind him, showing feeds from the perimeter, the labs, the gate.No one else spoke. Not the guards. Not the techs. Everyone knew better.“I take it this isn’t a social ca

The room was massive — like an abandoned throne room, stripped bare except for metal panels and flickering lights overhead. Everything buzzed with electricity and tension, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.Davion stood across from Iron Hand, fists clenched. Behind him, Beverly, Reika, and Wilson hovered near the doorway, all bruised and out of breath. The hallway behind them was littered with unconscious guards.Iron Hand didn’t move.He just stared at Davion with that same look he always had — like a king bored of his kingdom.“I gave you everything,” Iron Hand said, voice low and echoing. “And you throw it away… for what? A girl? A normal life?”Davion didn’t answer. He was too busy breathing through his rage.“You think you’re fighting me,” Iron Hand continued, stepping down from the platform. “But really, you’re fighting yourself. You were made for this.”“No,” Davion growled. “I wasn’t made for anything. You just used me like a piece of equipment.”Iron Hand’s

Beverly kicked her feet up on the dashboard, blowing a bubble with her gum and staring out at the hazy stretch of road ahead.“Okay but like, hear me out,” Wilson said from the driver’s seat, “What if this time—just this once—we don’t stop for snacks?”Reika gasped like he’d just proposed a crime.“Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Do I need to drive?”“Man, I’m just saying, we’re literally being hunted. Like, stalker-level hunted. By trained killers. Maybe donuts aren’t the vibe.”“They’re always the vibe,” Reika shot back. “And we need gas.”“Thank you!” Beverly said, swinging her legs down. “Plus, I want coffee. So unless this car magically runs on air and vibes, you’re pulling over.”From the backseat, Davion didn’t say much. He never really did when they were close to town. His hoodie was pulled low over his head, and he stared out the opposite window, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh.But Beverly felt it—the tension. The coil under his skin tightening. Like something

They parked the van in a shadowed alley off the freeway—like someone pressed pause on the world. The early morning haze drifted in like sleepy ghosts. Everyone got out, and suddenly the air felt heavier. Like the fight had followed them, climbed inside them.Davion cut the engine, eyes on the freeway exit. “We stick together,” he said, voice low. “No solo missions.” He offered Beverly his arm; she accepted without hesitation, shoulder trembling against him. The rain from earlier still dripped around them.Beverley wrapped her arms around herself, struggling to steady her breathing. “That was intense. I thought… I thought I’d freeze.” Her voice cracked like a broken record. She glanced at Davion, searching. “You… you fought for me.”He brushed her hair behind her ear. “I fight with you.” She blinked at him. He didn’t let go.Wilson shifted from foot to foot, checking his phone. “We got twenty minutes. Trevor’s watching. He’s not taking this… well.” His voice trailed off. They all knew