Page 41 of Jump or Fall

Mara

D awson’s anguished cry tore through the cacophony. Mara hurled a heavy toward some approaching Silvers then raised her Basilisk again to shoot. The heavy rounds made the gun kick back in her hands with each shot.

Gordon was hidden behind the corner of a building, firing in steady, measured bursts.

A few suits still stood—heads slumped to the side as their rigid frames absorbed round after round, jerking grotesquely. Their armor was slick with dark blood seeping into the pavement and spraying with each hit.

The street fell silent.

What was happening?

Out of a cloud of smoke, Millon appeared, sprinting with Kimmie at his side.

Her pale hair was streaked with blood. She came to a halt when she saw Nella, her expression flat, then stepped forward and hoisted her sister’s body over her shoulder before continuing on.

“Move out! Move!” Millon shouted.

Mara fumbled with her remote as she scrambled to get up.

Before she could find her balance, Gordon grabbed her arm, yanking her so forcefully she nearly fell to her knees.

They sprinted as fast as their suits allowed, but a deafening roar filled air. The shockwave lifted Mara off the ground and sent her crashing to the pavement. If not for the suit absorbing the impact, she would have broken something.

She groaned, trying to get her bearings. It was impossible to see through the smoke and dust.

A firm grip hauled her up.

Gordon.

Relief washed over her at the sight of him. The memory of nearly losing him after the mech fight formed a tight lump in her throat. She would never leave him behind.

And he would never leave her.

“Millon and Kim went that way,” he said, pointing toward a shop.

They hurried over and spotted the others through the window. A handful of Millon’s guards had made it inside, while the rest secured the perimeter.

Kimmie sat on the floor against the back wall, her sister’s body cradled in her lap. Kimmie’s eyes were unfocused and hazy, her breathing shallow. Millon crouched beside her, pouring water over the gash on her head. His jaw was tight with barely restrained urgency.

“Someone find a fucking kit,” he snapped.

Mara rifled through drawers and cabinets, pushing aside old receipts and dust-coated clutter.

Finally, behind a stack of books, she found a mending kit with the giant Ascleon Therapeutics emblem. She popped it open and found a brand-new stitcher, gloves, sanitizer, and an expired bottle of Rapiderm.

She was about to pull on the gloves when Millon held out a hand. “I’ll do it. Hand me the gloves.”

Mara hesitated. “Have you used a stitcher before?”

He looked down and replied through clenched teeth, “Not in years.”

“Then let me do it.” She eyed Kimmie. “If she’ll let me.”

Kimmie’s head jerked in a barely perceptible nod .

Mara slid on the gloves and sprayed the cut with antiseptic. She observed the stitcher; it was a solid model, equipped with a staple setting. The cartridge was full and still sealed like everything else in the kit.

Mara pinched the split skin together. “Ready?”

“Just fuckin’ do it.”

She pressed the trigger, stapling the laceration closed. Kimmie sucked in sharp breaths through her nose but made no other sound. Millon gripped her hand, watching as she powered through the pain.

Kimmie’s gaze stayed fixed on her sister, one hand absently combing through Nella’s long hair.

They were nearly identical—same sharp features, same light brown skin, and hair so pale it nearly turned white in the sun.

The only real difference was their build: Kimmie’s frame was corded with muscle, while Nella had softer curves.

Still, it was hard to believe they weren’t twins.

“Okay,” Mara said, inspecting her work. “I think it’s good.”

Kimmie fell forward, clutching Nella to her chest. “I can’t believe he killed her.”

“I’m so sorry, Kim,” Gordon said solemnly.

Mara sank onto the floor and gently touched her arm. She half-expected Kimmie to pull away, but she didn’t.

Kimmie let out a sob. “He was never going to give her up. That fucking asshole.”

“Do you think he knew we’d tricked him?” Gordon asked.

She shook her head. “No, he had no idea. He yanked my helmet off and I could tell he was pissed that I wasn’t Mara. He hit me in the head and tried to drag me away. That’s when Millon came after him.”

“He set off something big that was planted near the barricade,” Millon said. “I could feel the interference in my arm. We have to finish this. Tonight.”

He looked down at Kimmie. “You need to sit this out. Go stay with Asher back at Hyperion. We’ll need to figure out where to put Nella.”

That was the wrong thing to say .

Kimmie shuffled her sister off her lap and bolted up.

She got within an inch of his face, their armor clashing. “Get this straight. You do not tell me what to do. I’m not sitting on my ass while you all go kick his. He murdered my sister in the middle of the fucking street!”

“Kim, your head—”

“You can give me a new helmet or you can fuck off,” she growled. “Nella may have been a delicate princess, but I’m not.”

Millon wasn’t used to someone talking back to him. His face twisted in frustration, clearly resisting the urge to yell back at her.

With a final huff, he lit a cigarette and turned to one of his guards standing by the window. “Logan. Go back to Hyperion and bring back a new helmet for my sweet little rogue. Can he take your sister with him?”

Kimmie lightly shoved him away, then bent down to gently lift her sister and hand her over to Logan.

The guard left with a nod.

“What happened to Silva?” Gordon asked. “You said he’d be there.”

“He was parked with a box truck around the corner.” Millon replied absently. “I told him to retreat until we figure out our next move.”

“We need to hit Dawson’s house directly,” Mara said.

Millon thought it over for a moment. “Like Beck, he has a safe room somewhere in the house. Unlike the Archon, though, he was smart enough not to use a plain wooden door. We can’t be sure if he’ll hide out though, or which room it might be.”

She had a feeling. “Are the safe rooms soundproof?”

“Yes.” Millon kept his eyes down.

“It’s his office. If we get close to the wall, maybe we can connect to his suit if he’s in there. Chances are he’ll turn it on this time.”

“If it’s a safe room,” Gordon said, “the signal might not penetrate the walls or even the door. ”

“Then we burn him in the hell he created. But I want a chance to try first,” Mara said. She wanted a confrontation—a chance to hurt him back.

“Best plan we have,” Millon said with a sigh.

While they waited for the guard to return, Mara approached Kimmie sitting alone, ignoring everyone. “How’s your head?”

“Better than how I feel.”

“I’m sorry about Nella.”

Kimmie pressed her lips into a hard line and studied her for a moment. “I’m sorry no one came for you.”

That was probably the nicest thing Kimmie had ever said to her.

“In a way, all of you did.”

Kimmie’s brows pinched together and she extended her hand. Mara took it without hesitation and gave it a squeeze.

When Logan returned with Kimmie’s helmet, she slipped it on without so much as a glance at Millon.

His gaze, however, never left her. Several times, he looked ready to speak—only to clamp his mouth shut again. He had always been the quiet, menacing type, but around Kimmie, something in him was shifting. Something caring and gentle.

The sky had darkened to an inky bluish-black, roiling with storm clouds. Streaks of lightning slashed through the darkness, briefly illuminating the ruined street.

Where streetlights once stood, only shattered metal and exposed wires remained. Scattered debris littered the road, some chunks still glowing red-hot.

Up ahead, the broken gate to Division One remained blocked, a scorched car wedged firmly in the path.

Millon tapped his helmet and spoke into a private channel.

Moments later, the rumble of an engine cut through the thick air. A large box truck pulled up, its headlights flickering against the wreckage. The driver’s side door swung open, and Silva—fully armored—jumped down. Without missing a beat, he tugged on his helmet and jogged to the back of the truck.

There was a dull whir, mechanical and ominous. Something heavy shifted inside. Silva pressed a button, and a massive, crumpled form was lifted from the back of the truck and set on the ground with a resounding thud .

The whirring grew louder, layers of machinery humming to life.

Gears clicked and hydraulics hissed. Then, with a metallic groan, the object began to unfold.

It rose, growing higher and higher until its imposing form was fully revealed.

A sleek, double-sided face swiveled, its glowing blue eyes sweeping the surroundings in a calculated scan.

Millon appeared beside Mara, grinning like a child with a new toy. “You didn’t think I’d let them have a mech without getting my own, did you?”

He motioned toward the barricade. “Let’s get this shit out of the way!”

The mech obeyed, stomping forward with thunderous steps. It seized the wrecked car in its massive grip, metal crunching in its pincer-like hands. With an effortless heave, it flung the vehicle aside. The wreck tumbled, landing with a final crash just as a crack of thunder split the sky.

This was it.

They were going into Division One.