Page 102 of Renegades

Nova felt her body being crushed against a hard, unforgiving shell, and she was soaring upward again. She sucked in a shocked breath and stared up at the Sentinel’s visor. The feeling of weightlessness was brief. He thudded down on the second-story floor, which cracked and groaned under the force of his landing. He turned and launched them both back toward the destroyed wall. Wind and smoke blew into Nova’s face and she turned away, shielding her eyes against the Sentinel’s chest.

This time, the sense of flying led to a sense of falling, and soon he had landed with the impact of a bulldozer on the roof of the theater. He dropped to one knee, his arms cradling her. “Are you okay?”

Nova realized that she was shaking. All of her, shaking, as she lifted her head and saw only her own stunned expression reflected back on the surface of the visor.

He was holding her. Like she was… precious cargo. Or an innocent bystander. Or… or… a damsel in distress.

Clenching her jaw, Nova slammed both palms against his chestplate and forced herself out of his arms. He fell back in surprise, catching himself on one elbow as she leaped to her feet and backed away. She grabbed the shock-wave gun from her waistband.

The Sentinel held a hand toward her. “I’m here to help.” He slowly got back to his feet. “You can trust me.”

She laughed—a mad, disbelieving sound. “I highly doubt that.”

Her eye caught on movement and she spotted Gene Cronin and Narcissa beside a large roof vent. Narcissa was clutching her grandfather’s arm, but he was still holding one of the old, delicate books from the library. Narcissa’s face was ashen, her braid mussed and her clothes streaked with soot. Cronin wasn’t faring much better, though he had already been so disheveled it didn’t make that much of a difference.

Another explosion roared from across the street and Nova spun around, imagining more bombs being lobbed at them. But this time, it wasn’t the Detonator who had caused the noise. It was the library, succumbing to the fire. The remaining beams and rafters had caved in, sending a roar of sparks and flames that engulfed what remained of the roof. Soon, all that would be left would be a few exterior stone walls. A skeleton of the structure they had housed.

Her heart squeezed.

Was Adrian still…?

No. No—he was strong and clever. He was a Renegade. Surely, he’d found a way out.

The Librarian let out a pained wail and fell to his knees. “My library… mybooks…”

Narcissa hovered over him, rubbing his back, but he did not seem to notice her beyond his devastation.

“Paper and ink,” drawled an angry voice.

Nova grimaced.

Ingrid appeared, stepping out from behind an old, rusting searchlight—what might have been used to promote a new movie premiere, back in a far-gone time. She already had a smirk on her face and a new explosive crackling between her palms.

“You’ll get over it,” she said. “It’s all those lost weapons that are the real tragedy.”

Cronin smiled wistfully. “The weapons might have supplied my livelihood, but those books… those were my life.”

Ingrid snorted. “Pathetic,” she said, turning her attention toward the Sentinel. She started to toss the sphere of energy up, catching it in one hand, before tossing it up again. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Renegades’ shiny new toy. Who would have thought you’d be involved in this little raid too?”

“Stand down, Detonator. You’ve caused enough damage today.” The Sentinel’s right hand began to glow, the gray-tinged metal turning white-hot from wrist to fingertips.

Nova stared in disbelief.

Thatwas new.

Surely he didn’t have even more abilities that she hadn’t seen yet. How could it be possible?

“I know I have,” Ingrid said with a cheerful laugh. “And it feelsso good.After nine years of smothering my power, feigning obedience to the Council’s demands… to finally remind the world what I can do. Great powers, it feels good!” She let out a hoot toward the sky, then started to laugh. “You know, my focus had been to take out that Everhart boy, butyou…you might be even better. To take out the Council’s own lackey. Do you think your armor can withstand a direct hit? I have my doubts…”

“Council’s lackey?” said the Sentinel. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Oh, I don’t,” Ingrid countered.

The Sentinel extended his glowing gauntlet in front of him, fisted tight. “I’m not here on the Council’s orders. I’m not here for anyone’s business but my own.”

Ingrid sighed. “Do you really—”

A narrow beam of white energy launched from a cylinder on the Sentinel’s forearm and slammed into Ingrid’s chest. She stumbled and fell back, gasping for breath.

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