I keep running my hand over my arm, expecting the burn and blisters to return. But they’re gone, and I am totally overwhelmed. Who were Draven’s parents that he has powers like this? Mind control is rare—and one of the most potent powers out there. But biomanipulation? The ability to heal—or destroy—on a cellular level? Maybe even on a genetic level? Only a couple supers in the world have a power like that.
His eyes are guarded, as if he expects me to freak out or recoil in fear. But he didn’t turn away from me when I confessed to being powerless. Nothing in the world could make me turn from him right now.
If I’ve learned anything from the last few days, it’s that the power is not what makes someone bad or dangerous—it’s the person who wields the power. Draven and I may go toe to toe on pretty much everything, but he’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s one of the strongest, fiercest, most genuine people I’ve ever known.
I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Thank you,” I say, and it’s for a lot more than healing my arm.
Draven smiles, then nods toward the low rock wall where the rest of the team has assembled. “We’d better get out there.”
He sounds cool, in control, but I see the way his hands tremble before he shoves them into his pockets. The knowledge that he’s as affected as I am makes me feel okay about my own vulnerabilities. My own shaking knees.
Draven climbs out first, then reaches up to help me down. When I’m on the ground, he doesn’t release my hand. Instead, he laces our fingers together, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.
Of all the times to start falling for a guy, in the middle of this mess is pretty much the worst possible option. One star-crossed relationship in the team is more than enough. This is only going to make things that much more complicated.
And yet, I can’t bring myself to care.
As we approach the group, Jeremy and Nitro are involved in some kind of heated debate, while Rebel and Dante are wrapped so tightly together that I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. My best friend glances at us, takes one look at our joined hands, and raises a curious eyebrow.
I ignore her.
“You’re a complete cock-up!” Nitro yells.
“It’s not my fault. Once the guard initiated the lockdown protocol, I was shut out of the entire system.” Jeremy doesn’t even glance at Nitro as he types furiously. “If you would just give me a minute….”
“We’ve given you more than a minute. What kind of hacker genius gets ’imself locked out of the system he’s trying to hack?”
“The kind,” Jeremy says, pausing while he finishes typing, “that still has access to Rex Malone’s desktop. Which means”—he spins the laptop so we can all see the screen—“we can still read his private communications.”
“Hmm,” Nitro says, leaning closer. “Maybe you’re not a total wanker after all.”
“Wanker?” Jeremy repeats, offended. “I’m a bloody genius.”
I laugh—Nitro’s obviously rubbing off on him. But it doesn’t feel like the time to point that out, especially as line after line of text scrolls across the screen. Messages—texts, emails, transcribed calls and voice mails—flying by so fast that I can’t read it all. But I do see mentions of the break-ins and three villain escapees.
“If we’re lucky,” Jeremy says, “we’ll get a clue to Lima Whiskey’s location.”
“And my mom?” I ask.
Jeremy nods.
“How will we even know?” Draven asks. “Can you read that fast?”
Jeremy laughs. “Of course not. I’m running a screen recorder and a rootkit that is specifically searching for any reference to the secret facility.”
Draven tenses and then releases my hand. “And what if we learn the location?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “What then?”
“Then we go save Deacon,” Dante says.
“And my mom,” I add. “If she’s there too.”
Draven gives me a sympathetic look. “They’re not going to hurt your mom,” he says. “She’s too important to them. But Deacon…”
Though he doesn’t say the words, we can all fill in the blanks. The odds that Deacon is still alive, that he survived the torture and was transported to the new facility, are pretty slim. Just because he wasn’t in any of the body bags we saw doesn’t mean…. My stomach pitches at the unfinished thought.
Dante obviously believes otherwise. “Deacon is alive.”
“You don’t know that,” Draven argues.
“I do. He’s my twin. If he were…” His voice cracks and Rebel gives him a squeeze.
Dante recovers, shaking off his emotion. “I would feel it. In here.” He smacks a fist to his chest. “I know he’s still alive.”
“It doesn’t matter if he is,” Jeremy says.
“The hell it doesn’t!” Draven shouts.
“What I mean,” my ex says, “is that what Malone and the hero leadership are doing is tantamount to villain genocide. The six of us are the only ones who know what’s going on.”
“He’s right,” I say.
Rebel looks at me like I have gone insane.
“No matter what happens, we can’t just walk away. Not from this. Even if it’s too late for Mom or Deacon,” I explain. “There are others. And if we don’t stop it, there will be a lot more. We can’t just pretend we don’t know what’s happening. We have to do something.”