Page 35

R.I.O.T

T he air crackles and warps as I'm teleported into what appears to be a large training facility, my boots landing with a sharp thud against the concrete floor. For a split second, I'm disorientated, the lingering hum of the energy from the jump buzzing in my ears—but then I see her.

She is across the room, mid-flight, her body hurtling through the air like she'd been thrown.

The sound of her impact against the wall is sickening; a dull, flesh-and-bone thud that tightens something in my chest as I watch her crumble to the ground, dark streaks of blood trailing down the side of her face and dripping onto her shirt.

Nightmare grunts, her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, all I can focus on is her—the way she brushes the back of her hand against her mouth to wipe the inky, black blood dripping down her chin, and the arrogant look in her mismatched eyes as she stares at the culprit.

And then I see him.

Damien stands over Reece, but his eyes are on Nightmare. His lips curl into a cruel smile as he stares at her. There is no remorse on his face, only a twisted pleasure at the violence he’s causing.

Nightmare releases a soft, breathy chuckle and taunts him. "That all you got?"

The low growl in my chest spills before I can swallow it, causing Damien to snap his head towards me. I stand there, my chest heaving with unrestrained fury, my eyes boring into his as he dares to stand his ground. The air thickens around us, heavy and suffocating, charged with my power.

I move before he can blink. One moment, I’m standing there, a menacing shadow; the next, I’m on him.

My fingers curl into the back of Damien's neck, claws threatening to pierce his skin as I slam him face first into the concrete floor.

His face cracks against it with a sickening thud, the sound echoing in the space.

I tilt my head, watching as the skin on his forehead splits and the blood that trickles from the fresh wound; a dark, black, gleaming streak that runs down the side of his face. He gasps, choking, his struggles weak against my hold.

I lean in closer, my hand sliding to his hair, my breath hot against his ear. "You think you can hurt what's mine, do you?"

My voice is low, guttural, shaking with barely restrained rage.

I'd like to say that I’m talking about Reece. She looks terrified and wounded, but all I can see in my head is the blood running down Nightmare's face, which now mirrors Damien’s.

The power around us seems to grow dense and oppressive as if even the atmosphere has turned against him. The smell of sweat and blood taints the air, stirring something primal and ancient in my chest.

My grip tightens in his hair, dragging his face up so I can see the fear etched into his features.

It’s brief, but it’s there. He’s saying something to me, but I don’t care what.

Apologies, excuses, defiance—it’s all meaningless.

My rage has drowned out everything else, leaving only the pounding of my heart and the thunderous roar of fury in my ears.

I've been wanting to do this for the longest fucking time.

I slam his head into the concrete floor again, and again, and again.

The sickening crunch of bone meeting rock reverberates through the room.

Blood sprays outward in a grotesque fan, speckling the floor and my forearms. The black is dark and vivid, dripping in thick rivulets over the smooth stone.

His cries turn into gurgles, wet and strained, as blood fills his mouth.

But before I can crack his skull right open, painting the floors black and letting the memory of today embed itself into the stone, a sharp and unbearable pain zips through my veins and deeper still.

One moment, his death is just a whisper away, and the next, a sudden, violent pull from deep inside, like an iron chain that is hooked into my very soul.

It yanks me back, hard and unrelenting. The force of it nearly drives me to my knees.

"Fuck," I growl, my voice barely human, as I'm thrown back. It feels like barbed wire coiling around my insides, tearing at the very fabric of who I am. Every nerve screams in protest as the force pulls my body, my essence, my soul—everything. It has a hold of all of me.

But pain no longer hurts me. Perhaps I gained an immunity to it. Or maybe, even though my eyes may bleed, and my rage is a living, breathing thing that's constantly sitting on the surface of my skin, deep inside—right to the centre of my being—I'm empty.

I watch Damien, his body a broken, heaving mass of pain. Blood drips from his wounds, staining his entire face and spreading across his teeth. His arms tremble as he tries to push himself up, his fingers curling into fists against the floor.

The force inside me tightens when his eyes connect with mine.

The look he throws back is venomous, filled with loathing so pure, it feels like a physical force.

His lips pull into a sneer as the air around Damien shimmers and twists, an unnatural energy crackling to life.

A dull, low hum fills the room as he gathers himself and forces his broken body into an upright stance.

There is no mistaking the promise in his glare: this isn’t over.

Then, in a flash, he’s gone. I hardly react to the aftershock of his power and grit my teeth.

Fuck.

"Riot!" My gaze snaps to Reece, her face pale and streaked with tears, her hands slick with black blood as she presses against the wound on Nightmare's stomach that I hadn't noticed. I'm beside them in an instant as Nightmare lay completely, worryingly still.

I drop to my knees, replacing Reece's hand with my own without hesitation, but the sight of Haze—pale and vulnerable—makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

Her breathing is shallow, her chest rising and falling in erratic, weak bursts.

Blood seeps between my fingers, cold and sticky, staining the fabric of my shirt and pooling on the ground beneath her.

Her face, usually twisted into a serious, scheming frown— always —when she thinks I'm not looking, is now slack.

"Fuck," I growl, glancing around as if the air itself can offer a solution, but there’s nothing—just her, fading fast, and the growing sense of unease clawing at me. "Dammit!"

A hand reaches for mine; I don't think as a growl rips out of my lips. So deep, I don’t realise Umbra is awake until the sound vibrates out of me. The warning is clear— mine.

Reece snaps her hand back to her chest, eyes wide and fearful. Before it dawns on me what I'd done, footsteps storm into the facility, and I glance over my shoulder as Mia, Seth, Kyrian and Alissa stumble into the room, but my focus is only on Mia.

"Heal her." My voice is low and cold, each word deliberate and sharp enough to cut.

Mia stares at Nightmare, tilting her chin a little higher, her blue eyes shining defiantly.

"No." Her words are sharp, but I hear the slight quiver she tries to hide from me. "My gifts aren't meant for her kind. The Gods will be—"

"Fuck your Gods," I sneer, my rage at her fucking audacity bleeding into the atmosphere and suffocating the air. "Since you like to overstep your goddamn place in every other aspect of my life, you will do this."

Mia grits her teeth, hands clenched into fists as her perfectly maintained composure slowly unravels.

She knows what I'm talking about. She knows healing the bond between myself and Alissa was selfish and perhaps even cruel, because Mia knows I'm a lost cause.

She knows convincing Alissa to give us a chance will only hurt her.

She did it with Leila, and she's doing it again.

"Take it to a hospital or leave it on the streets for all I care, but I will not help you save a Nightwalker."

The heat in the air rises, and the Gods’ gaze is suffocating as they leer down at us.

Nightmare's head lolls to the ground; her hair, like molten silver, is now wet and streaked in black as it fans out across the floor. It’s wrong to see her like this—so quiet, so still. She is supposed to be sharp-tongued, vengeful, and stubborn. Not this. Not lifeless.

Kyrian appears beside us, crouching low and raising his hand over her wound.

He begins chanting words under his breath as a faint purple light appears over her wound.

He glances at me, brows drawn together in worry.

"It isn't enough, but it'll slow down the bleeding. We need to get her to a hospital."

She's been genetically modified down to her core; if we take her to the hospital, the doctors wouldn't know what the fuck to do.

"I'm with Mia." Seth looks uncomfortable voicing his thoughts, but he relents anyway. "She can't be trusted, Riot."

"Exactly. It's a Night…" Mia's words trail off as I stand unnervingly still, my posture rigid yet unforced. I fix my gaze on Mia with a quiet intensity that feels more dangerous than raising my voice.

When I speak, my voice is calm— too calm. Each word falls from my lips with precision, clipped and measured like I’m reciting an unbreakable law. "You think you have a choice in this." My tone is so flat, it sends a chill through the air. "But let me make myself perfectly clear— you don't."

I rise to my full height, leaving Nightmare in Kyrian's care. Mia looks at me as if I’m a stranger… and her worst nightmare.

Mia takes a shaky step back as I take one closer.

My hands hang loosely at my sides, deceptively relaxed, though there is a tension in my presence that’s like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Seth can sense it, because he nervously places himself between us, his hands stretching towards me as if he can calm me—but he can't, not unless I choose to be.

And right now, all I'm feeling is calm. A cold calculation that feels so much like death is leering its head. Waiting, so close.