Page 144 of Archenemies

Lowering the weapon, she pressed her forefinger to Mack Baxter’s forehead. He crumpled.

She spun back to Frostbite. The girl was on her hands and knees, attempting to crawl away from the Bandit. Nova pointed the tip of the spear at her nose. Frostbite paused.

“Go back,” Nova growled. “You’re giving him your power. All of it.”

Frostbite lifted her eyes, but nothing else. “Like hell I am.”

Nova snarled. Max was dying.Dying.And she didn’t care if he was a Renegade, an Everhart, thevery prodigywho had taken Ace’s power and ruined him almost ten years ago. It was Max, and she would not let him die. “It could be the only thing that saves him.”

“It’s mine,” Frostbite growled.

“Fine,” said Nova. “I gave you a chance to be noble about it.”Reaching down, she scooped her fingers beneath Frostbite’s chin, gripping her throat. A startled groan escaped the girl and for half a breath she struggled to get away.

But then she fell limp. Fast asleep.

Nova dumped her beside Max. She couldn’t gauge how fast he was absorbing Genissa’s power, but the ice formations over his wound started to thicken.

She thought he was unconscious, but then his eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. She couldn’t tell if there was recognition there, but she knew there was a question.

Why was she helping him? She had the helmet. Why was she still there?

“Get away from him!”

Her head snapped up. Her pulse jumped.

The Sentinel stood inside the main entrance, his armored suit haloed by the moonlight reflecting off the glass doors.

Nova stood. Her heart felt brittle, her body on the verge of collapse. But her mind was sharp again, jolted awake when that pike had been driven into Max, and already she was assessing her options.

The pike was only a few feet away.

The helmet was on the ground behind her.

Another dart was loaded in the gun at her holster and she still had two more gas-release devices, though she couldn’t be sure the gas would penetrate that suit.

She had one destroyed quarantine, three unconscious former prodigies, and Max—dying at her feet.

“I said,” growled the Sentinel, as his right arm began to glow, “get away from him.”

Nova took a step back. Her heel brushed against the helmet.

As much as she despised the Sentinel and all his feignedsuperiority and self-absorption and the way he had hunted her like some obsessed stalker, she was pretty sure she knew one thing about the vigilante.

He was capable of good things.

Heroic things.

Like rescuing ten-year-old boys when they were dying.

She took another step back.

The Sentinel raised his arm. The concussion beam drove toward her. Nova ducked, barely dodging it, and grabbed the helmet off the floor.

Then she ran.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

HE WANTED TO CHASEafter her.

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