MICHAEL SULLIVAN: NEW DYNASTY

— 12 —

Phillip stared at his trapped wrist in disbelief. He pulled against Ava's grip, his face reddening with effort.

"Let go of me!" He yanked harder, his whole body straining. "What the hell is this thing?"

But Ava's grip remained steady. Phillip planted his feet and pulled with everything he had, his muscles bulging, sweat beading on his forehead. Nothing. His wrist might as well have been clamped in a steel vise.

"I said let go!" Phillip's voice cracked with frustration and something that might have been fear.

Michael couldn't help himself. A snort of laughter escaped.

Phillip's eyes snapped to him. "What the hell are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," Michael said, but he was still smiling. After years of being pushed around by guys like Phillip, seeing one of them completely helpless was oddly satisfying.

Phillip's face twisted with fury. "You think this is funny?" He swung his free hand at Michael's face.

But before the punch could land, Ava's other hand shot out and caught Phillip's wrist. Now both his arms were trapped, held at awkward angles that left him off-balance.

"What the—" Phillip began thrashing wildly, trying to break free. When that didn't work, he started kicking. But Ava simply adjusted her grip and lifted him slightly off the ground, leaving his feet to paddle uselessly in the air.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Phillip's voice had risen to almost a shriek. "This is assault! I'll have you arrested!"

Hillary stood frozen by the door, her mouth hanging open. "Michael, what is that thing? Is she...is she human?"

"What should we do with him, Mr. Sullivan?" Ava asked, her voice perfectly calm despite holding a thrashing grown man like he weighed nothing.

Michael looked at Phillip, red-faced and helpless, then at Hillary's shocked expression. Something hardened in his chest. These people had barged into his home, insulted him, searched through his belongings, and threatened him. In another life he'd have accepted it and kept his head down. But things were different now.

"Fling them out," Michael said. "They're not welcome here."

Ava nodded and began dragging Phillip toward the door. Despite his struggles, she moved with the steady pace of someone taking a casual stroll.

"You don't know who you're dealing with!" Phillip screamed over his shoulder as Ava pulled him into the hallway. "My family has connections! We'll destroy you! You're nothing! You hear me? Nothing!"

His voice echoed down the stairwell as Ava continued dragging him toward the building's exit.

Hillary remained in the doorway, staring after them. "Michael, I don't understand. What is she? How is she so strong?"

"Does it matter?" Michael asked.

"Of course it matters! What the hell, Michael. That girl just manhandled Phillip like he was a child."

"Good."

Hillary's eyes widened. "Good? Michael, Phillip could want revenge for this."

"He was about to assault me," Michael countered.

"So you had your... your bodyguard girlfriend assault him back?"

"I defended myself."

Hillary shook her head slowly. "This isn't you, Michael. The Michael I knew wouldn't hurt anyone. He was gentle and kind and—"

"Weak?" Michael finished. "Is that what you were going to say?"

"No, I—"

"Because that's what you always thought, isn't it? Poor, weak Michael who can't stand up for himself. Who lets everyone walk all over him."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Michael's voice was getting louder. "You dumped me because I wasn't ambitious enough. Because I didn't have money or prospects. Because I was just some loser delivery boy who'd never amount to anything."

"Michael, please—"

"And now you show up here with Phillip Medici, of all people. You came here to bully me into given you the little 'scrap' I got from Frank. Is that it?"

Hillary's face flushed. "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you used me until I couldn't pay your bills anymore. Then you left me."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it? What's even worse is you're still acting all chummy with me. Calling and texting. What am I supposed to think?"

Hillary's composure cracked. "You want to know the truth? Fine. Yes, I met Phillip and yes, he was richer. But I didn't plan it, Michael. It just happened."

"Right."

"And yes, maybe I wanted a better life. Can you blame me? I just wanna have a good life and be able to afford the things I want. Forgive me for thinking that's more important than playing with some guy who hasn't figured his life out yet."

Michael stared at her. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm practical. You never were. That was always your problem, Michael. You're so busy being noble and pure that you can't see opportunities right in front of you."

"Opportunities like dating rich guys?"

"Like stepping up for yourself! Like wanting more out of life than delivering packages and living in this..." she gestured around the apartment, "this dump."

"This dump is my home."

"It's pathetic," Hillary said, her voice cruel now. "You're pathetic. Twenty-six years old and still living like a college student. No ambition, no goals, no future. Just delivering packages and dressing up girls as dolls."

The words hit Michael like a sledgehammer. But what hurt most was the mockery in her voice. The same mockery he'd heard from Derek at that store, from his supervisor at work, from everyone who looked at him like he was just shit they could scrape off their shoe.

"At least I'm not a gold-digger," he said quietly.

Hillary's eyes flashed. "At least I'm not broke and lonely."

The silence that followed was deafening. Michael felt something cold settle in his chest, a numbness that was almost worse than anger.

"Michael has me now."

Both Michael and Hillary turned toward the voice. Ava had returned, standing in the doorway with her clothes slightly disheveled from handling Phillip.

"I beg your pardon?" Hillary said.

"You said Michael was lonely," Ava continued, her voice calm but firm. "He's not. He has me. And unlike you, I'm not going anywhere."

Hillary's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. For the first time since she'd arrived, she seemed genuinely at a loss for words.

"I..." she started, then stopped. She looked between Michael and Ava, her expression confused.

Michael looked away. "Just leave, Hillary."

"Michael—"

"Please. Just go."

Hillary hesitated for another moment, then grabbed her purse from where she'd dropped it. "This isn't over," she said, but the fire had gone out of her voice. "Phillip won't let this go."

"Good for Phillip."

Hillary paused in the doorway. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do."

After she left, Michael could hear Phillip's voice echoing up from the street, still shouting threats and obscenities. His voice gradually faded as he and Hillary presumably got back in their car and drove away.

Michael closed the door and leaned against it. The silence felt wonderful.

"Thank you," he said to Ava.

"You don't need to thank me for protecting you, Mr. Sullivan. It's what I was designed to do."

"Still. Thank you."

He pushed off from the door and grinned at her. "God, that felt good. Did you see Phillip's face when he couldn't move? He looked like he was going to cry."

"His stress levels were significantly elevated," Ava confirmed.

"I bet they were." Michael held up his hand. "High five?"

Ava looked at his raised hand with slight confusion, then understanding dawned on her face. She raised her own hand and brought it down to meet his.

The moment their palms touched, a brilliant red glow erupted from Ava's hand. The light was so bright that Michael had to shield his eyes.

"PHOENIX BEACON ACTIVATED," a mechanical voice wailed from somewhere inside Ava. The sound was loud and harsh, completely different from her normal speaking voice.

The glow faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving both of them standing in stunned silence.

"What the hell was that?" Michael asked.

Ava was staring at her hand, her expression troubled. "I... I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? It came from you."

"I have no access to that specific data," she said slowly. "The beacon activation appears to be tied to systems I cannot access."

"Beacon? What kind of beacon?"

"I don't know, Mr. Sullivan. I'm sorry."

Michael ran his hands through his hair. "First the classified information about your creation, now this. How much about yourself don't you know?"

"More than I'm comfortable with."

The worry on her face was so human that Michael felt his concern spike. But then he forced himself to calm down.

"You know what?" he said. "Forget it. You deserve a treat after dealing with those two."

Ava tilted her head. "A treat?"

"Yeah, like..." Michael paused, realizing he was about to suggest taking her out for dinner. "I mean, you don't need food, do you?"

"No, Mr. Sullivan. I don't require sustenance."

"Right. Of course." He felt awkward now. "Your treats will be the upgrades I got you. The components we installed should help you function better."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"It's the least I can do. After what you did for me today..."

He trailed off as a new thought occurred to him. "Ava, when you grabbed Phillip's wrists, how much force were you using?"

"Approximately eight percent of my maximum grip strength."

"Eight percent? And he couldn't move at all?"

"Correct."

Michael whistled low. "What's your maximum grip strength?"

"I could crush a car with minimal effort," Ava said matter-of-factly.

"Jesus."

"But I would never harm anyone unless they posed a direct threat to you or myself."

"I know. I trust you."

And he did, Michael realized. Despite everything mysterious about her, he trusted Ava completely. She'd stood up for him when no one else would. She'd protected him.

For the first time in years, Michael didn't feel completely alone.

♠️

Many miles away, in a subterranean facility, alarm klaxons suddenly began wailing.

Men and women in black tactical uniforms moved around various monitoring equipment, their faces illuminated by the glow of dozens of screens.

"Phoenix signature detected!" someone shouted over the alarms. "Location: Denver City!"

A bank of large monitors at the front of the room suddenly blazed to life, displaying maps and streams of data.

A man stepped up to the monitors, his silver hair catching the light from the screens. He studied the data with an intense look. Finally, he smiled.

"Finally," he said softly.

A woman in a similar uniform approached him, a tablet in her hands. "General Wagner, what's the next move?"

General Wagner continued to stare at the screens, where a red dot pulsed steadily over a satellite image of Denver City.

"Mobilize the team," he said, his voice carrying authority. "We're going hunting."