head. Fifteen million dollars. No villain anywhere has ever commanded such a steep bounty.
Rebel couldn’t have picked a more dangerous family to hook up with, which is why I return her look with one that says oh-boy-do-we-need-to-talk-about-this-later.
“Dad will get him out,” Dante says. “No matter the cost.”
“Exactly,” Draven argues. “No matter the cost. We bring Uncle Anton back from the negotiations early and this will turn into all-out war.”
Dante snarls. “Sounds good to me.”
“Not to me,” Draven counters. “You know what happens in a war? People do stupid things that get other people killed.”
“As long as heroes are getting killed,” Dante replies, “then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that heroes wouldn’t be the only ones to die. And what if Deacon is one of the first casualties?” Draven sits next to Dante on the couch. “If we’re not careful, he could get…hurt in the crossfire.”
I bite my lip when he hesitates over the word “hurt.” I know he almost said “killed,” but that’s the last thing any of us want Dante thinking about. Getting Deacon out safely has to be the number one priority, not worrying about Dante going off the rails and doing something that might get everybody killed.
“It has to be the two of us.” I look at Rebel. “We can get him out.”
“You’re right,” she replies.
“No way,” Draven argues, at the same time as Dante says, “Absolutely not.”
Rebel’s jaw clenches in a stubborn gesture I am far too familiar with. Even with all this going on, it’s nice not to be on the receiving end of it for once.
“There’s no other choice,” she says. “You guys can’t get in. We can.”
“How will you get him past the guards?” Draven asks. “How will you even carry him? If he’s in as bad shape as Kenna says, he won’t be able to walk.”
“Carrying him out is no problem.” To prove her point, Rebel channels her power to move the living room couch back to its pre-tornado position. “Telekinesis comes in really handy sometimes.”
Draven looks skeptical. “But the guards—”
“I can take care of them,” I insist. And I know exactly how I’m going to do it.
About a year ago, Mom developed a new knockout serum that can render someone unconscious. It’s another one of her not-for-League-knowledge projects. It works so fast that when she tested it on me, I was out for two days. I woke up with the mother of all headaches and the dryness of the Sahara in my mouth. She has since refined the formula so that it only knocks out its victim for an hour. If we use it on the heroes, it’ll give us more than enough time to get in, free Deacon, and get him out.
Mom has a whole supply in the refrigerator in the garage, along with modified tranquilizer guns to deliver the dosage from a safe distance.
The guards will never see us coming. Or going. I grab Draven’s arm and look him straight in the eye. “I need to get to my house.”
“What?” He looks appalled. “No way! How do I know you won’t tell your mom and blow the whole thing?”
It’s a good question, and I don’t really have a good answer. At least nothing beyond, “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.”
Chapter 9
“You didn’t have to drive,” I tell Draven for the third time as he puts his car in gear and backs out of the driveway.
He ignores me.
I mean it, but I’m also glad he insisted on coming. I know it’s more about the fact that he doesn’t quite trust me than from any desire to protect me. Still, now that the reality of the situation is settling in. I’m not sure I would be the best person to be behind the wheel right now.
“Turn right at the light,” I say as we leave the neighborhood.
He flicks on the turn signal but otherwise gives no recognition that I’m in the car. Understandable. He’s just found out that one of his best friends, his cousin, is being tortured by his archenemies. And that his fate is
Rebel couldn’t have picked a more dangerous family to hook up with, which is why I return her look with one that says oh-boy-do-we-need-to-talk-about-this-later.
“Dad will get him out,” Dante says. “No matter the cost.”
“Exactly,” Draven argues. “No matter the cost. We bring Uncle Anton back from the negotiations early and this will turn into all-out war.”
Dante snarls. “Sounds good to me.”
“Not to me,” Draven counters. “You know what happens in a war? People do stupid things that get other people killed.”
“As long as heroes are getting killed,” Dante replies, “then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that heroes wouldn’t be the only ones to die. And what if Deacon is one of the first casualties?” Draven sits next to Dante on the couch. “If we’re not careful, he could get…hurt in the crossfire.”
I bite my lip when he hesitates over the word “hurt.” I know he almost said “killed,” but that’s the last thing any of us want Dante thinking about. Getting Deacon out safely has to be the number one priority, not worrying about Dante going off the rails and doing something that might get everybody killed.
“It has to be the two of us.” I look at Rebel. “We can get him out.”
“You’re right,” she replies.
“No way,” Draven argues, at the same time as Dante says, “Absolutely not.”
Rebel’s jaw clenches in a stubborn gesture I am far too familiar with. Even with all this going on, it’s nice not to be on the receiving end of it for once.
“There’s no other choice,” she says. “You guys can’t get in. We can.”
“How will you get him past the guards?” Draven asks. “How will you even carry him? If he’s in as bad shape as Kenna says, he won’t be able to walk.”
“Carrying him out is no problem.” To prove her point, Rebel channels her power to move the living room couch back to its pre-tornado position. “Telekinesis comes in really handy sometimes.”
Draven looks skeptical. “But the guards—”
“I can take care of them,” I insist. And I know exactly how I’m going to do it.
About a year ago, Mom developed a new knockout serum that can render someone unconscious. It’s another one of her not-for-League-knowledge projects. It works so fast that when she tested it on me, I was out for two days. I woke up with the mother of all headaches and the dryness of the Sahara in my mouth. She has since refined the formula so that it only knocks out its victim for an hour. If we use it on the heroes, it’ll give us more than enough time to get in, free Deacon, and get him out.
Mom has a whole supply in the refrigerator in the garage, along with modified tranquilizer guns to deliver the dosage from a safe distance.
The guards will never see us coming. Or going. I grab Draven’s arm and look him straight in the eye. “I need to get to my house.”
“What?” He looks appalled. “No way! How do I know you won’t tell your mom and blow the whole thing?”
It’s a good question, and I don’t really have a good answer. At least nothing beyond, “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.”
Chapter 9
“You didn’t have to drive,” I tell Draven for the third time as he puts his car in gear and backs out of the driveway.
He ignores me.
I mean it, but I’m also glad he insisted on coming. I know it’s more about the fact that he doesn’t quite trust me than from any desire to protect me. Still, now that the reality of the situation is settling in. I’m not sure I would be the best person to be behind the wheel right now.
“Turn right at the light,” I say as we leave the neighborhood.
He flicks on the turn signal but otherwise gives no recognition that I’m in the car. Understandable. He’s just found out that one of his best friends, his cousin, is being tortured by his archenemies. And that his fate is
Similar Books
