Page 2 of Stars in Nova

The robber whimpered, his protests lost in the rising murmurs of the onlookers gathering around.

Vendors peered from behind their ruined stalls, some muttering curses while others stared, captivated by the display of raw power.

The Guardian yanked the thief to his feet. ‘What crew do you run with?’ he demanded, his snarl laced with menace.

The low-life squirmed, choosing silence, his gaze darting about as though looking for a way out.

The Rider shook his head, his lips curling into a grim smile. ‘Don’t make this harder than it already is.’

He turned, dragging the pilferer back through the chaos. The rubberneckers parted again, this time in awe.

The only sounds came from the soft crackle of a toppled food grill and the steady rhythm of the man’s boots as he strode away, his captured prey in tow.

The street reverberated with whispers, not because he was an Eden Guard but because of his infamy.

He scowled as he stalked past his audience, his towering frame cutting through the noise and light.

Women dressed in shimmering fabrics leaned against street lamps, their voices seductive and persuasive as they tried to catch the attention of men passing by.

‘Hey, Kisan.’

More syrupy, sweet calls followed in his wake.

He ignored them all, not even glancing their way, for he’d no interest in their company tonight or any other night.

He turned down a narrow side alley into a square with thekinaiin tow. The con in his grip dragged his heels, weaving with weariness.

Suddenly, the click of a distant trigger filtered into his eardrums.

He froze, limbs locked.

He flung the crook away from him in a split-second kinetic response just as the first piercing crack shattered the stillness.

The impact came a moment later, slamming into his shoulder with the force of an oversized hammer.

His captive delayed his reaction.

He staggered, his body twisting on instinct to minimize the blow.

An additional shot followed, then a third, each one striking hard.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch.

He glanced down, his black combat vest torn, the dusky flesh of his chest beneath it already bruising.

Fokk, no blood.

Instead, a shimmering force danced over his complexion, a ripple of power that absorbed the kinetic force of the bullets.

The pain faded, replaced by a growing surge of energy.

Kisan straightened, his visor slipping off to reveal his glowing aquamarine eyes.

His tattoos pulsed under his skin, forming and reforming into luminescent dark ink.

Senses sharpened, his heartbeat slowed as he scanned the street for his attacker.

Another shot came, whizzing toward him.

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