Renegades (Hotbloods #3)

Renegades (Hotbloods #3)

Bella Forrest



Chapter One





I braced myself against the hard floor, feeling the friction of the rubble and rock beneath my boots, my eyes facing forward. Sweat dripped down my forehead, with rivulets meandering beneath the collar of my military vest, winding their way between my tensed shoulder blades. Everything ached, though I had learned to ignore the constant, dull pain that pulsed through my body. It was part of me now.

Up ahead, appearing from behind crumbling buildings, a swarm of holographic enemy soldiers were gearing up to retaliate. I kept my eyes on them, trying to count how many were approaching, but there were too many. They moved slowly at first, blending into formation, clutching their weapons to their sides. I took a deep breath and waited for the moment we could strike.

To my left and right stood a line of Queen Brisha’s coldblood trainees, their focus never leaving the oncoming enemy, each one holding their weapon of choice. Some carried enormous pikes that crackled, while others gripped the leather handles of deadly blades. Guns were too easy for the trainees, since anyone could shoot one and the enemy could disable firearms with a jammer on the battlefield. Close combat was a more revered skill within the coldblood army.

The masked holograms broke into a slow jog, charging at us from over the hills of rubble, the crunch of their boots providing a terrifying percussion to the already-intense boom of the overhead explosion sound effects. My pulse was racing, my hands shaking, even as I reminded myself that this was only a simulation. Still, I didn’t want to let anyone down, not when I had come so far. I refused to be the weak link. More than that, I refused to let Pandora be right about me. I needed to prove that I could be as good as the coldbloods on either side of me. I was just different.

“You ready for this?” Navan shouted from beside me. He was clutching a katana-like sword, the blade glinting as he took a half-step forward, holding the blade horizontal in front of his face.

“Ready!” I adjusted the gear I’d been given. The heavy vest was made of a strange, almost rubbery material that made me feel like I was wearing half a wetsuit, with glowing green piping that ran through every seam, making it blaze with light. Everyone on the trainee side wore one to help monitor performance during the battle, and to indicate when a person was “out.”

Around my waist and across my chest was a bandolier of knives, small but perfectly formed, designed to fit my fingers and my skillset. I pulled the straps tighter just to be sure I wouldn’t lose any of them in the fight. I’d already been reprimanded for doing that, two days before, and it wasn’t an experience I was eager to repeat. My arms still throbbed from the Vysanthean version of five hundred push-ups.

Looking toward the enemy army, which was now mere yards away from where I stood, I refastened the fingerless gloves I was wearing, which were forged from the same rubbery material as the vest, and flexed my fingers, plucking a knife from the side of my waist and preparing to make my first strike.

It had only been a week since we’d started our military training, and this was our first chance to try out the skills we’d learned. There had been a few test runs that hadn’t exactly been successful, especially where my knife-throwing was concerned, but this was the first full-fledged battle scenario we’d been allowed to participate in. I could feel the rush of adrenaline in my veins, making me faster, stronger, sharper, but there was no telling how this would play out. All I knew was I had to show I was worthy.

“Not long now!” Navan said, turning in my direction.

I managed a teasing smile. “Then keep your eyes on the enemy!”

The world shifted as the holographic soldiers burst into action. Some sprinted at us, while others extended their mighty wings and took to the skies before plummeting to the ground in death-defying stunts of aerial warfare, launching various forms of artillery. Holographic arrowheads and darts shot from beneath their wings. Other soldiers crashed down in a spiraling movement, the flash of a sword whirling around them, striking at trainees left, right, and center.

I leapt out of the way of a stray dart, watching with regret as the vest of the trainee behind me turned red, signifying he was now out of the game. The coldblood scowled in my direction, clearly blaming me for the blow he hadn’t been quick enough to dodge. I’d had to deal with a lot of that over the last week—endless blame for things I hadn’t done, because I was the puny Kryptonian, not fit to fight beside these superior Vysantheans. Navan had told me to just ignore it and prove to them I was capable in my own right by getting through the scenarios, but it was hard to push away their endless negativity.

I flung the knife in my hand at the nearest hologram—a giant coldblood with wings twice my size—and watched with satisfaction as the blade struck its heart. A moment later, the figure flickered and sparked before disappearing from the game, the hologram taken down.

Sprinting for cover behind the remnants of a cracked wall, I released four more knives, each one sailing clean through my chosen assailant, prompting them to flicker and disappear, just as the first had done.

I felt a whoosh of air behind me and turned in time to send a knife through the neck of an enemy soldier who had sought to take me by surprise. As it disappeared, I let loose another blade, taking out an identical figure just behind where the first had stood. I didn’t know if it was a glitch in the game or not, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

Realizing I had used most of the knives strapped across my chest, I pressed the buttons attached to the wrists of my fingerless gloves, prompting them to light up with a silvery glow. There was a magnetic connection between the gloves and the handles of the knives I had thrown, meaning they could be brought back to me at will, but to do that, I had to have a clear path, to avoid accidentally injuring one of my teammates. I had already had close calls with at least three other coldblood trainees, who refused to let me live it down, even though the cuts to their faces and arms had faded away to nothing thanks to the vials they all took.

They had it easy. I was still covered in bruises and scrapes, unable to ingest the medicines they were using to rapidly heal themselves. Navan had tried to dilute one of the potions so that I could take it, but so far it had only succeeded in giving me cramps.