Page 129 of Hunted to Be Mine
Then he moved.
He launched down the span with inhuman speed. No time to reload. I tossed the dead pistol and set for impact.
He hit like a battering ram, driving me into the railing. Metal screamed. We grappled at the edge, churning flow fifteen feet below ready to take whoever went over.
He cut for my throat. I blocked and buried an elbow in his ribs. He hardly noticed. Textbook Oblivion form—each strike flowing into the next.
Until the rhythm broke.
His right arm flickered mid-punch and went wide. Confusion flashed across his face—quick as a blink.
I didn’t waste it. A knee to his solar plexus. A fist to his temple. He stumbled.
“You’re fighting it.” I circled on the slick grating. “I can see it.”
He reset. “Operational parameters… within acceptable levels.”
The glitch worsened.
We crashed together again, trading blows on icy steel. His fist caught my jaw. My head snapped back, and I tasted blood. I rode the momentum and drove an uppercut into his side. Something gave under my knuckles.
His strikes didn’t vary. Every one meant to end me. What saved me was the hesitation—the hair-thin lag between decision and motion that betrayed the war inside him.
Through the haze, I caught sight of Selina in the glass-fronted booth above. Blue light lit her face as she worked a terminal. I needed to buy her time.
He seized my distraction and slammed me into the railing. His hands closed on my throat, thumbs digging with machine-bred control. The edges of my vision went dark. I clawed at his grip, then drove my fingers at his eyes. He recoiled. Air burned back into my lungs.
“Primary objective…” He faltered. His head jerked, as if shoved by an unseen hand. “Primary… must retrieve Crawford.”
“No,” I said, watching him. “You’ve been fighting that order since we walked in. Part of you doesn’t want to take her back to Dresner.”
Rage flashed. Real. “You… know nothing.”
Speakers crackled and shrieked. Then Selina’s voice filled the space.
“Xavier Hale. I know you’re fighting Dresner’s commands.”
His whole body went rigid, back arching. He dropped to one knee, hands at his skull.
“No…” The word tore out of him. “Not that… designation.”
I took the opening, drove my knee into his face. He sprawled on the wet grating. I followed and pinned him.
“Your name is Xavier Hale.” I hammered his jaw. “Oblivion took you. Conditioned you. But you’re fighting.”
He bucked with unnatural strength and threw me off. I skidded, boots scraping for purchase inches from the edge.
“I am Blackout,” he said, voice strained, threadbare. “I am… operational.”
He lunged. The coordination was breaking. Order giving way to chaos. Human.
Selina’s voice came again, stronger through the speakers. “Xavier, you’re pushing back against Dresner’s programming. Specter did the same.”
His left arm seized, clawing his right wrist as it reached for the knife at his thigh. His body fought itself—one part trying to finish the mission, the other refusing.
“Stop talking!” he shouted up at the ceiling, voice raw.
I slammed him into the railing. The knife popped free, skittering across the grating.
