Powerless

Deacon and my mother. Gone. The entire lab moved to a top secret hero facility. The people—the villains—housed at ESH simply disappearing without a trace.

 

And that’s assuming my mom is being held at the lab. Really, she could be anywhere. Literally anywhere. At least we know where Deacon is—for now. He’s still within our reach, and he can’t hold on for long. As much as it hurts to say, he has to be our first priority. Mom would agree.

 

Hopefully we’ll find some clue about her whereabouts along the way.

 

Two days ago, my biggest concern would have been Mom losing her research. Today…my perspective has changed. A lot.

 

This can’t happen. It just can’t.

 

“Don’t suppose either of you birds know where this new top secret facility is?” Nitro asks.

 

Rebel’s eyes meet mine, and one look tells me she’s as lost as I feel. Neither of us had any idea such a facility existed. The ESH lab was kept a secret so our research wouldn’t fall into villain hands, but it was never a secret from other heroes. Up until a couple of days ago, I wouldn’t have had a clue why they’d need such a place—or what might go on there. Now, I’m terrified that I know exactly what’s going on there.

 

“We have to get Deacon before ESH shuts down,” I say, frantic now that the truth is sinking in. “We have to get him and then find my mom. We have to—”

 

“We have three days.” Draven brushes his hand over my lower back. It’s a fleeting touch, nothing serious really, considering how close we’re all standing to see the computer screen, but it comforts me anyway. It helps me draw my first breath in what feels like forever. And the next one. And the one after that. I’m not alone in this. I’m not the only one hurting. And I’m not the only one desperate to get my loved one back.

 

Unlike the villains, I can hold out hope that my mom is just being questioned, just being…kept. I can believe that she’s not being tortured, or worse. Draven and Dante don’t have that luxury.

 

“I doubt we have that much time,” Jeremy says, not taking his eyes off his screen as lines of undecipherable computer code scroll by. “Mr. Malone wants the whole lab shut down in three days. Which means that whatever plans they have for Deacon—” The words hang there as he pauses and clears his throat. I’m imagining the worst now, and I can tell by the way the others tense that they are too. “Whatever they’re going to do to Deacon, they won’t want to wait until the last day.”

 

“So what does that mean?” Dante demands. “We have less time?”

 

“If we’re lucky,” is Jeremy’s grim answer.

 

If we’re not already too late. He doesn’t say it, but we all feel the unspoken words.

 

My stomach pitches, but I ignore it. Someone needs to take charge. And since everyone else seems shell-shocked, that someone is going to have to be me. The sooner we save Deacon’s life, the sooner we can move on to looking for my mom.

 

“Jeremy, you have to get us in,” I tell him, forcing a steadiness into my voice that is far from what I’m feeling. “Find a way around the villain signature sensors, because we’re going in as a team.”

 

Draven looks at me, hot and powerful emotions lurking behind his gaze.

 

That’s right. We are stronger as a team, not fractured like a bunch of kids fighting over who gets to play with the cool toys at recess. And it’s time we start acting like it.

 

“I’m on it,” Jeremy says. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

 

“Let’s get started,” I tell the rest of the group. “We have two days to figure this out.”

 

“I’m in,” Rebel says. “Where do we start?”

 

“With figuring out how to blow that lab wide open without hurting my cousin or Kenna’s mom,” Draven answers firmly.

 

“Exactly.” I straighten my spine. “Because one way or another, we’re going in.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 16

 

 

“Tell me again why we need three containers of chocolate milk to break into the lab?” Draven asks suspiciously. Not that I blame him—the whole cranberry juice debacle is still fresh in all our minds.

 

“Because Jeremy is hypoglycemic and it helps keep his blood sugar steady if he loads up on chocolate milk when he’s stressed out,” I tell him.

 

Draven rolls his eyes as he drops the bottles of Nesquik into our cart. “That’s some kind of ex-boyfriend you’ve got there.”

 

“Yeah, well, he’s a genius. Through the years, I’ve learned not to question his bizarre beverage choices as long as he gets the job done.”

 

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