He looks to me, waiting for me to speak up, but I don’t know what to say. Dante’s insult is ringing in my ears, and even knowing that he’s got a good reason to say something like that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach. Not when I’m trying so hard to make things right.
Not when just yesterday I saw things just as black and white, just as right and wrong. Only I was certain that every last villain was as bad as Dante insists all heroes are. Are we both right? Or both wrong?
“I’m sorry, were you helping?” Dante demands. “Because I thought you were making things worse.” He jerks his head in my direction. “Kenna stopped us from finding my brother the first time we broke into the lab. She’s the one who left him there to get tortured. And she’s the one who couldn’t get the job done tonight, even after she said she didn’t need our help.”
I take a step back.
He’s right. He’s totally right. This isn’t about black and white; it’s about saving Deacon’s life. It’s about finding my mom. And I failed.
I want to run away—somewhere, anywhere. I can’t stay here. Not when it’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to cry.
I won’t break down, though. Not here. Not in front of Dante and Draven. I won’t give them that satisfaction. My whole world might be flipped inside out, but I still have my pride.
I stand tall, even as I’m falling apart inside. I deserve every last word of his scorn.
“You make me sick!” Dante continues viciously, jamming a finger at me. “Walking around all proud of being heroes when—
“Dante!” Rebel shouts his name at the same time Draven says, “Enough.”
“No! It’s not enough. They—” Dante breaks off as Draven shoves him, hard.
“I said that’s enough. This isn’t Kenna’s fault.”
Dante shakes his head. “Are you kidding me? You’re taking her side?”
“You’re being an ass,” Draven tells him.
“And you’re acting hero-whipped,” Dante spits. “Just because you think she’s a nice piece of—”
Draven’s fist connects with Dante’s mouth.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Chapter 15
Dante crashes shoulder first into Jeremy, who shoves him into Nitro, who falls to the ground from the force of the impact.
“Hey!” Nitro kicks out at Jeremy’s ankle, tripping him.
Dante lunges at Draven.
In a matter of moments the four guys are beating the crap out of each other. Fists are flying, knees and elbows are being driven into guts and jaws, and curses permeate the air. At least they seem to be relying on their muscle, not their powers. Jeremy’s technopathy wouldn’t stand a chance.
For long seconds, Rebel and I just stare in shock. I’d figured it would be the three villains against Jeremy. But it’s not that way at all. Jeremy and Nitro are going at it, and Draven and Dante are hitting each other at least as hard. Maybe harder. And every once in a while, they switch, so that at any given moment any one of them is beating on any one of the other three. Like a musical-chairs version of a parking-lot brawl. It’s every super for himself.
“We should stop them,” I say.
Rebel throws out her arm to keep me from interfering. “No, let them fight.” She throws me a weary look. “They need to work off some anger.”
“But if it looks like they’re going to kill each other…”
“Oh yeah,” she agrees. “Then we’ll definitely step in.”
Almost on cue, Jeremy lets out a particularly plaintive screech.
“And that would be now,” Rebel says. Hands outstretched, she heads for Dante and Nitro. A half second later, both guys are suspended several feet off the ground. The fact that they’re floating doesn’t cool their fight; it just forces them to change tactics. Nitro fires up a glowing, pink energy ball while Dante sends a gust of gale-force wind at his face.
Rethinking her strategy, Rebel releases Dante and grabs his shirt—or what’s left of it.
“Dante, babe. Come on. Stop. Please.”
He shrugs her off, pretty gently considering he’s got Nitro wrapped in a small F5 tornado.
I don’t have a power that will help me break up the fight, so I wing it and hope I don’t die. Between Jeremy and Draven, my ex is more likely to listen to reason. But since Draven is kneeling on top of him, plowing his fist into Jeremy’s face, I don’t think Jeremy is in any position to help me out here.
A series of high-pitched beeps sound from the vicinity of the van.
With a muttered curse of my own, I wade into the tangle of bodies and grab Draven’s arm before he pounds Jeremy again.
“Stop!” I tell him as authoritatively as I can muster. “Stop before you kill each other.”
I half expect him to shove me out of the way, but he pauses. He looks wild, his eyes a bright blue that glows under the parking-lot lights. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, and I can see a bruise forming on his right cheekbone. Looks like Jeremy got in a couple of good hits.
The series of beeps sounds again in a familiar pattern.
“Stop,” I tell him again, more softly this time. “Please.”
He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it. Jeremy, of course, takes the opportunity to punch Draven in the stomach.