Alfred POV

  This was not part of the plan!

  Before this fight, I had already plotted out the many possible paths that events could potentially take. Contessa interfering? Not as long as I had even a single Dragoon Spirit on my person. Lung resisting Astral Drain? I’d send him to a different dimension that would leave him jabbering like a loon. Not the most heroic of solutions, but I was not going to settle for half-measures.

  Coil being his slippery, snakey self? Earth dragon. Nuff said.

  You get it.

  What I had not prepared for was the absolute tsunami of chitins, claws, and stingers that was now chasing me across Brockton Bay. Wasn’t Taylor’s range supposed to be about two blocks or something?

  This does not look like two blocks of bugs!

  The wind whipped around me as I darted through the sky, the swarm of insects hot on my tail. Every time I looked over my shoulder, I could see more and more of them, a cloud of buzzing, writhing bodies that stretched far beyond what I could have imagined.

  The Darkness Dragoon Spirit was the fastest among the eight, as far as I knew. In acceleration, agility, and top speed. But no matter how sharply I turned, how quickly I shot forward, the swarm kept pace. My heart thudded in my chest, and I could feel the blood rushing in my ears.

  What the hell was going on? Taylor’s range was supposed to be limited, right now. It would increase, sure, but that was way down the line!

  Medhall loomed below me in a flash and disappeared just as fast. I shot past it, my eyes flicking back to the swarm. It didn’t matter how high I flew or how fast I went. The swarm stayed with me. I could feel the relentless pull of it, like a giant weight dragging me down.

  I pushed myself harder, my wings cutting through the air, tearing at the wind. The Rig flashed by underneath me, barely a blur as I twisted in midair, hoping for a break, for some moment where the swarm might scatter or lose me. But they didn’t. They stayed, always there, like they were woven into the very fabric of the city, following my every move.

  The panic started creeping in, slowly at first, then all at once.

  I had to get away. I had to lose them.

  But no matter how much I sped up, the swarm never faltered. It was everywhere—above, below, around me. The buzzing filled my mind, suffocating me.

  I flew higher, desperate, aiming to put distance between myself and the swarm. The skyline stretched out before me, Brockton Bay sprawling below. But still, the insects followed, relentless. There was no escape. I couldn’t outrun them. Not like this.

  My pulse was pounding in my ears. There had to be something I could do. Think, damn it!

  With a sudden snap, it hit me. I couldn’t outrun them, but I could make them wish they hadn’t chased me.

  Mind made up, I shot up as high as I could, away from potential collateral. The swarm surged with me, and for once since this chase started, I didn’t go as fast as I could. No, I need as many of these little shits in one place for what I intend to do.

  As they closed in, closing off any path of escape, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer.

  I slammed my focus down, calling upon the Red-Eyed Dragoon Spirit, the transformation nearly blinding in its intensity. My body ignited with heat, the flames licking the air as they surged through my veins. The world seemed to freeze for a moment. Then, with a roar that shook my very bones, I unleashed the power.

  Fire exploded from me, a torrent of searing heat filling the sky. The swarm of bugs was consumed in an instant, the flames incinerating them like dry grass. Their buzzing died away, replaced by the deafening crackle of fire.

  Ahhh, blessed silence…

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I hovered in the sky, the heat of the flames fading, the city sprawling beneath me. The swarm was gone.

  That’s the good news.

  The bad news came in the form of multiple flying figures coming from different directions. I recognized all of them, too.

  Uh oh.

  Taylor POV

  She didn’t know how she was still upright. Her legs felt like they were made of wet sand, and every step on the cracked footpath sent dull pulses of pain through her knees. Her arms hung limply by her sides, heavy with fatigue, and the soft, almost inaudible hum of the bugs still orbiting her felt like static scratching at the inside of her skull.

  Tonight was supposed to be simple.

  Stop some dealers. Maybe scare off a few gang kids with a few dozen roaches crawling up their legs. Be a bug-themed shadow in the corner of some crime scene. That was the plan.

  It had not gone to plan.

  She limped along the sidewalk, staying close to the edges where the light from the streetlamps didn’t reach. The mask itched, her costume stuck to her skin in damp patches, and the welts and bruises from the fight throbbed with every heartbeat.

  Lung. He shouldn’t have even noticed her. She didn’t want to fight him — she shouldn’t have fought him. That was suicide.

  But he’d told his men to kill children.

  What was she supposed to do?

  She had tried to make a difference. Tried to stop the worst of it. And then that… other guy had shown up. She didn’t even know his name — he hadn’t said anything. Just appeared like some nightmare from an edgy comic book. The way he moved, the way Lung went down — how did that even happen?

  He was the leader of the ABB, for god’s sake! If it were that easy to take him out, surely someone would have done it before today?

  But, no! He was still around just in time for Taylor’s first night out.

  And then there was him.

  With him came the pressure. That impossible, crushing weight. The dread. The cold in her veins. That had been the worst part.

  At first, she’d thought it was just the fear — natural fear, after watching someone take down a dragon in seconds. But it wasn’t like that. It was deeper. Like something in her brain had just… flipped. Not just fear. Obedience. Panic. Something wrong.

  She clenched her jaw, the memory of that moment bubbling up like bile. Her heart had thundered in her chest, and her limbs had moved like they weren’t hers.

  Mastered.

  The word hit her like a slap.

  Her pace slowed, and she blinked, eyes stinging behind her mask. That had to be it. The dread, the numbness, the strange compulsion — it wasn’t just fear. He’d done something to her. Some sort of Master ability, layered under all that shadow.

  That’s why she attacked him. That’s why she had to.

  Because he was a villain. A terrifying threat who messed with people’s heads and dropped Lung like it was nothing. Maybe he saved her life — maybe — but that didn’t make him safe. It didn’t make him good.

  And she had been so angry.

  Taylor flinched as the memory of the bugs diving toward him resurfaced. It hadn’t worked. He’d flown faster than she thought possible, a blur of motion.

  She hadn’t stayed to watch. She couldn’t. Her strength had run out the second she knew he was gone. The moment the pressure lifted, she was done.

  She didn’t even stop to see what became of Lung. She was just so damned tired.

  And now she was here, dragging herself through dark streets, barely able to see straight.

  The swarm buzzed quietly at the edge of her awareness. Her range was stretched thin — thinner than she’d ever pushed it before — but the insects had kept up. Loyal. Obedient. Hers.

  She should have felt proud. Instead, all she felt was sick.

  Something had happened when that guy — whoever he was — did whatever he did. She didn’t know what, not really. Her bugs had changed. Stronger. Faster. Clearer. Like her range had expanded and her control sharpened — like her power had been supercharged.

  It had felt good. Too good.

  She didn’t want to think about that.

  The street ended, and she turned down the narrow side path that led to her house. Every fibre in her body begged her to collapse right there. She imagined curling up on the porch and just sleeping. Forgetting tonight. Forgetting him.

  But her house was lit up.

  She stopped.

  Her heart sank.

  The porch light was on. Worse — the front window glowed with the flickering blue of a TV left running too long.

  Her dad was awake.

  Taylor swallowed hard. Maybe he’d fallen asleep in front of the news. Maybe he’d gone to bed and left the light on. Maybe—

  The door opened before she reached the steps. Her dad stood there, eyes wide, hair tousled, wearing a threadbare T-shirt and worry like armour.

  “Taylor?”

  She didn’t answer.

  The sky still smelled like smoke behind her. Her limbs were shaking. Her mask was still on.

  And suddenly, she had no idea what to say.