Page 40 of Jump or Fall

Mara

P rying herself away from Gordon felt like tearing out a piece of herself. The comfort, the peace—his steady breath against her skin, and the feel of him inside her. If she believed in heaven, this was probably the closest thing to it.

But they had work to do—a mission to complete. They would trade Nella for Jasper, then figure out the next plan.

The ride back to Hyperion was tense. Columns of smoke obscured streets, with dense traffic and the sounds of gunfire. She kept a tight grip on Gordon with one hand while the other remained ready at her hip. She only had to draw her H-ek once, but it was too close.

Hyperion rose from the chaos like a dark beacon of safety.

Asher was waiting in the Armory, pale but slightly less jumpy. He immediately got to work assisting her with crafting new suits. As if he were eager for the distraction.

Of all the employees to show up on their doorstep, she was glad it was him. Her young apprentice had always been respectful and easy to work with—unlike some of the others who had come and gone.

He wouldn’t be coming with them to the trade, which was for the better. His nerves were shot, and his hands unsteady even while working the joiner. Handing him a firearm would be catastrophic .

They opted for standard enforcer suits, except for Millon, whose armor was custom-fitted for his prosthetic arm, and Kimmie, who would wear the God’s Eye helmet.

Mara adjusted the helmet’s visor, watching as Kimmie stared off into the distance. A pang of jealousy twisted in her. Countless hours and sleepless nights had gone into designing and crafting it.

“Tap here to bring up the predictive function,” Mara instructed, pointing to the side of the visor. “It’ll provide a percentage of certainty, so keep that in mind before you shoot someone.”

The memory of the teenage boy they’d killed in the alley surfaced, making her chest feel tight.

She expected a sarcastic remark, maybe even a dramatic eye roll—but Kimmie just nodded. Silent and focused.

“Are you okay?” Mara asked.

Kimmie’s shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath. “No, but there’s no time to not be okay.”

Unsure of what to say, she patted Kimmie’s shoulder.

To her surprise, Kimmie let out a small laugh. “Even after all the shit I’ve said, you still try to comfort me.”

“We're a team,” Mara said simply. “You haven’t tried to kill me yet, and holding onto grudges isn’t going to do either of us any favors.”

Her eyes widened. “I'm not evil—I’m just… stupid about boys, I guess.”

“Well, that forty-something ‘boy’ over there seems just as stupid about you, so tread carefully.”

Kimmie’s gaze drifted over to Millon, who was testing his armor. She bit her lip. “Yeah. I like him.”

“I can tell.”

Kimmie turned back with a curious expression. “What do you know about him?”

“Honestly? You probably know more than I do by now.”

“What? How? You’ve worked here forever. ”

“He isn’t exactly an open book.” Mara sighed. “I know his father started the company, he likes black, and he’s missing an arm.”

“Do you know how he lost it?”

“No.”

Kimmie nodded, some of the tension leaving her face. “I’m sorry for being an asshole to you.” She hesitated. “Gordon and I have been friends for a long time, and it’s taken me a while to get it through my head that it won’t go anywhere.”

“Apology accepted.”

Kimmie blinked. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yes.” Mara shrugged. “Considering the last time a woman was pissed at me over a man, I was quite literally stabbed in the back, I think I can move on.”

How much of Kimmie’s change of heart came from having a new love interest, Mara didn’t know. And she didn’t particularly care. What mattered was Gordon. He was the one she’d be spending her life with—however long that might be.

A horrified look took over Kimmie’s young face, but before she could say anything, Gordon approached in his new armor.

Even without it, he was an imposing figure—but now, fully suited in plate, he looked massive.

Mara swallowed. Obviously it wasn’t the first time she’d seen him in armor, but she found herself really enjoying the sight this time.

Gordon tilted his head. “Ready?”

Mara nodded. “Yeah.”

The majority of Millon’s guards fell into step behind them as they left Hyperion, moving like silent deadly statues.

Mara slung a Basilisk-H25 over her shoulder and checked her belt to ensure she had her H-ekaton. The Basilisk was a machine gun with a coil-shaped magazine and bullets that ruptured upon impact, injecting a corrosive substance into the target.

A quick pat confirmed her heavies and flashbangs were in place .

Then she realized someone was missing.

“Silva not coming?”

Millon turned, his visor flipping open to reveal a devious grin. “He’ll be there.”

Mara considered asking him to elaborate but decided against it.

His confidence had to be coming from somewhere.

***

Jasper’s eyes gleamed with fevered excitement as they approached. They kept their visors down, and Mara stood away from Gordon to avoid tipping him off.

“I can’t wait to see all of you get fucked up,” he sneered.

His eyes locked on Kimmie wearing the God’s Eye helmet. “Especially you, Silver bitch. I remember that helmet. Since your face is all fucked up now, I doubt my uncle will care if we finish what we started.”

Kimmie kept her mouth shut and chucked his suit into the cell.

Jasper yanked it on, never breaking his glare.

“Where’s my helmet?” he demanded.

“Broken,” Gordon said, voice lethal as he unlocked the cell. He lifted his Umbra and pointed it at Jasper’s head. “Move.”

Jasper moved casually as Kimmie took the lead on directing them out. Gordon kept the barrel trained on him the entire walk to the Crux exit.

The evening air was dense. Above, thick dark clouds obscured the setting sun. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low warning that vibrated through the pavement beneath their boots.

As they neared the boundary to Division One, the streets in Two stretched out eerily empty. Not a single bystander loitered, no curious eyes peeked from windows. It was as if the city itself had sensed what was coming and wanted no part in it .

The barricade came into view, a scorched car resting in the middle of the street where the gate had once stood.

Gordon passed Jasper off to Millon and stepped back. He checked his gauntlet which was synced to the birds circling above.

A bright flash lit up the clouds in the western horizon where the sun was fading away, followed by a sharp crack of thunder.

Mara toggled her thermal vision on her helmet, scanning the area. She would use her eye, but couldn’t risk Jasper seeing her face.

Movement caught her attention—a bird dipping low ahead of them. Its heat signature was different from a normal bird. The center of the body should’ve been the warmest, but the heat was spread evenly.

“I didn’t see anyone extra hiding around the barricade,” Gordon said. “But keep your eyes open.” He hesitated before adding, “Nella was with them.”

Kimmie didn’t respond, but the subtle tilt of her head showed she’d heard him.

Dawson stood at the barricade entrance, waiting for them. His armor was unmistakable—matte black with bold red and silver stripes mimicking a tiger’s pattern. Even his helmet had a tiger’s head painted on it with silver fangs.

Flanking him were several upper-level Silvers, distinguishable by their gauntlets which allowed them to use their claws and the silver stripes on their dark gray suits.

Dawson’s hand clamped tightly around Nella’s arm.

Her eyes darted around, wide and shining with tears, before locking onto Mara.

Nella thought she was Kimmie.

Mara kept her movements subtle, glancing down at her remote to check for a connection to Dawson’s synth-mind.

Nothing.

That was strange. She connected to Jasper’s suit, along with two of Dawson’s men .

She offered Millon a subtle nod so he’d know it worked.

“Let’s get this over with,” Millon called out. “Let the girl go, and we’ll send Jasper and Mara over.”

Dawson flipped up his visor. “Send Mara first.”

Jasper let out a frustrated cry. “Come on! What is it with you?”

Dawson ignored him, his attention fixed solely on Kimmie. He gestured for her to step forward.

She took a tentative step. Whether it was part of the act or genuine fear, Mara couldn’t tell.

Then, taking a deep breath, Kimmie pressed on.

Dawson’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he watched her approach.

He released Nella’s arm. “Now Jasper and Nella walk at the same time.”

Millon shoved Jasper forward with the barrel of his gun. Jasper turned back and spat at his feet.

Nella lingered for a moment, her expression wavering between betrayal and confusion. She took a small step away, then looked back at Dawson, waiting for something—some sign that he would stop her.

Dawson waved a dismissive hand, muttering something too low to hear.

How had he managed to trick two women into adoring him? It was possible there were more. She’d only met one of his other women, Liv, and her hatred had been palpable. The sullen look in her dark, glossy eyes and the exhaustion weighing down her every movement—it had all but screamed resentment.

Nella’s hesitation turned to furious stomps, her glare fixed on Millon as she closed the distance.

“You assholes took the one good thing away from me,” she seethed.

Mara’s finger hovered over the remote. It was still connected, and she watched every movement, waiting for something to go wrong. If only she could flip up her visor and use the synth-mind to analyze the scene .

Dawson’s hand shot out, locking around Kimmie’s arm in an iron grip. Before anyone could react, he pulled a H-ekaton and fired.

Nella froze, her long hair shifting in the soft breeze. Her eyes widened in shock, mouth parting. She looked back in horror before her knees buckled and she collapsed.

No, he couldn’t have…

“No!” Kimmie’s scream ripped through the air. She lunged at Dawson, slamming her fist into his ribs.

He twisted out of the way with ease and backhanded her. Her synth-mind barely reacted in time to block the impact and she went reeling back. Dawson slid his gun across the ground toward Jasper.

Jasper ducked away from Millon, diving for the H-ek. Gunfire erupted from the Silvers, sending them scrambling for cover.

Bullets ricocheted around them, embedding themselves in the surrounding buildings and cars.

Millon rolled a pair of smoke grenades, their canisters clinking against the pavement before hissing out thick, gray plumes. His voice came through the comms. “Let’s kill these fucks!”

Mara’s fingers flew over her remote, sending a command to the two other linked suits to drop their weapons and remove their helmets.

The moment they obeyed, she ordered Jasper to shoot them.

“What the fuck!” Jasper screamed, trying to break free from the suit’s hold on his movements.

The dead men’s suits still stood, heads limp and bloody. Mara sent another command and they lurched forward, marching toward the others.

Blood pooled beneath Nella’s body, soaking into the cracks of the street. Mara hesitated, her stomach heaving. She couldn’t leave her there—not like that. Even if she had made a mistake that ultimately cost her everything.

Everyone’s attention was locked on the dead suits closing in. Jasper’s panicked shrieks rang out through the sounds of gunfire .

Keeping low, Mara darted forward, weaving through the smoke to avoid being an easy target.

She hefted Nella’s limp form over her shoulder. Through the haze, she caught a glimpse of Kimmie scrambling away—her helmet gone.

Dawson stalked toward her.

Millon charged in, firing round after round. Dawson rolled clear of the shots, but his movements were stilted.

His suit was off. That’s why she couldn’t connect. But why? If he knew about the remote controls, why hadn’t he ordered the others to keep their suits off? Was it a test?

Reaching cover, she carefully lowered Nella to the ground, her pulse hammering as she turned her attention back to the fight.

Jasper’s voice cracked through the chaos, rising in desperation. “I can’t stop! I can’t stop shooting! Dawson! Help!”

Dawson barked something back, but the sound was swallowed by everything happening around them.

Jasper wasn’t getting out of this.

With one final command, Mara ordered his suit to lift the gun to his own head and fire.