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Thunder. The Sentinel gunfire rings out.

The Sentinels fire deadly blasts toward Lucius, each one aimed with coldly murderous intent. Quint and Marcel move just a heartbeat after Lucius, rushing the same steps – following their battle-brother toward me.

I gasp. I know the Bond has enhanced my strength and speed, but not nearly to the same degree as it has enhanced the prowess of my warrior triad.

Lucius’s body moves like quicksilver – faster than any un-enhanced eye could track.

Faster, even, than the tracking servos of the Sentinels.

Like magic, he weaves through the blasts, dodging and dipping through them as if the deadly projectiles are moving in slow motion. For a moment, I dare to think he’ll make it to me…

…and then I feel the cold steel at my throat.

“Stop!”

Lord Oblog’s voice is sharp and inarguable. Lucius freezes the moment he sees the knife at my throat.

That’s when two blasts impact him right in the center of his huge chest.

I scream.

Lucius’s aura instantly winks out of my mind.

My world disintegrates as he falls to his knees, and then flops lifelessly forward.

“No!”

“Shut up!” Oblog’s voice suddenly cuts through my panic. “He’s only stunned, you mewling whelp!”

He punctuates that statement by pressing the blade of his knife deeper into my skin. I freeze.

The Sentinels are armed with deadly slug weapons – the same ones humans have been killing each other with for millennia – but it wasn’t supersonic lead that impacted with Lucius’s chest. I remember the blasts of energy – and realize that the Sentinels must have been programmed to disable the Aurelians; not kill them.

As if reading my mind, Oblog nods.

“You’d think I’d slaughter my golden geese, Jamie? I told you – I’m abusinessman.”

His bulbous eyes then turn to Marcel and Quint – frozen half-way up the stairs.

“Take a fucking step back!” Lord Oblog orders – and they obey instantly, their eyes never moving from the sight of the knife at my throat.

Only when they’ve retreated to a safe distance does Lord Oblog pull the blade from my neck.

“Good – no more foolishness, I hope.”

Then, licking his blubbery lips, Oblog demands:

“Turn around, Jamie – and put out your fucking hand!”

Beside him, Lord Qavar snorts.

“You’re still fast with a knife, Oblog.” The second Toad Lord is amused. “I suppose with the enemies you make, you have to be.”

Qavar speaks as if in jest – but beneath the illusion of amusement is a hard line of worry. He clearly doesn’t like being in the same room as these three Aurelians any longer. The Sentinels no longer reassure him. Oh, sure – they could slaughter the Aurelians…

…but perhaps not before the Aurelians have slaughteredhim.