Chapter 17

  Shock

  Aaronn reacted at once, wrapping Lunamilla in his arms and shielding her from the shards of glass hurled by the smoke grenades that had just shattered the windows. The concussive blasts sent smoke billowing across the hall in seconds. Chaos followed just as swiftly, guests scattering in blind panic in search of cover.

  “Stay calm!” Jaje Neima’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers. “These are merely intimidation tactics!”

  Despite the uproar, Aaronn remained composed, analyzing the situation. The guests had become indistinct silhouettes swallowed by smoke, running in every direction. In the distance, he could still make out Jaje behind his podium. The senator claimed it was only intimidation—but Aaronn disagreed.

  The air had grown heavier. Oppressive.

  Two malevolent presences pressed against his senses. He did not need to see them. He felt their auras—distinct, resolute—cutting through the haze, converging on the ruling senator.

  “Stay here. I’ll be back,” he ordered Lunamilla, who had barely reacted.

  When he turned, he saw she was half-paralyzed with fear. He had to call out again to snap her out of it.

  “Get to cover!” he commanded. “I’ll handle the senator!”

  “O-okay…” she stammered, retreating slowly to hide behind the buffet table.

  The senator’s bodyguards closed ranks around him and his son, preparing to escort them to safety. Their advance was abruptly blocked by the two hostile figures Aaronn had sensed.

  They wore dark mercenary gear, faces concealed by hoods and masks, mechanical prosthetics encasing their fists.

  More attackers burst through the smoke from behind, dressed identically, and struck the guards. Electrical sparks erupted from their combat equipment at the moment of impact.

  “Dad, what’s happening!?” Conrad cried in panic.

  “I—I don’t know! I don’t know who these men are!” Jaje replied, stepping instinctively between the threat and his adopted son.

  The bodyguards fell one by one, unable to match the mercenaries’ enhanced gear.

  “Take the son alive!” one of them shouted, emerging from the smoke.

  It was into this desperate scene that Aaronn stepped. Seven against one.

  He saw no issue with the odds.

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  The first two electrified punches shot toward him. He deflected and countered them with surgical precision. He shattered the third assailant’s arm, drove a crushing blow into the fourth’s diaphragm to knock him unconscious, spun into a roundhouse kick that dropped the fifth, then seized the sixth by the throat and slammed him violently to the ground.

  A surge of electricity struck his back. Aaronn turned instantly. The attack had barely any effect. Through the slit of the attacker’s hood, he saw eyes widen in disbelief.

  The mercenary recovered quickly, snatched a smoke grenade from his belt, and hurled it at the floor.

  Aaronn crossed his forearms against the blast. The next instant, another window shattered—signaling the mercenary’s escape.

  “Get the senator to safety!” Aaronn ordered the guards still standing. “I’ll catch him!”

  Stunned by the display of strength, they obeyed without hesitation.

  Aaronn launched after the fugitive. He leapt through the broken window and landed on the rooftop beyond. There, he saw the man climbing into a black flying vehicle waiting for him.

  Without pause, Aaronn sprinted forward and hurled himself into the void, landing on the roof of the vehicle just as it accelerated.

  City lights streaked past in blurs of neon. Night wind lashed against him as he clung to the craft, muscles coiling tight. He had to restrain himself. In the present circumstances, he could not afford to reveal the full extent of his physical capabilities.

  He leaned toward the driver’s door and tried the handle. Locked.

  So he chose force.

  His fist shattered the window. He shifted position and reached inside, grasping the steering column, attempting to redirect the vehicle toward a nearby skyscraper rooftop.

  “Let go of the controls!” the copilot shouted, striking him with an electrified arm.

  The shock barely registered. His regeneration nullified it almost instantly. The driver tried as well, hammering at Aaronn’s arm, but to no avail.

  The vehicle zigzagged wildly through aerial traffic, horns blaring all around as Aaronn fought to steer them clear of the lanes while enduring their assaults.

  Then—suddenly—the blows ceased.

  He glanced inside.

  The driver was gone.

  “What!? Where’s your partner!?” Aaronn barked at the copilot.

  “I—I don’t know! He just—vanished!”

  The vehicle slammed into the rooftop of a skyscraper with a deafening crash, skidding across the surface in a shower of sparks before grinding to a halt. Flames erupted from the impact, devouring the smoking wreckage.

  Thrown by the blast, Aaronn hit the concrete and rolled hard, his body slamming against the rooftop. He lay still for a fraction of a second, then rose, eyes locked on the burning wreck.

  He wasted no time.

  Charging forward, he reached the mangled vehicle. The driver’s door had been torn away in the crash, leaving a gaping opening. Aaronn plunged his arms inside and dragged the copilot free, pulling him from the flames just before they could consume him.

  “Who are you!?” he demanded, voice deep and commanding. “Why target the senator’s son?”

  If he could extract information now—on top of saving Jaje Neima—he would earn the senator’s trust far more quickly. It might even spare Lunamilla from having to draw closer to Conrad.

  But the mercenary’s reaction was anything but normal.

  His body went limp, Aaronn bearing his full weight by the collar. Then, with a sharp jerk, the man snapped his head upright.

  His irises were gone. In their place: blank, white globes.

  His neck began jerking violently from side to side, as if some invisible force twisted him from within.

  “A… A… ronn…”

  Aaronn’s heart slammed against his ribs.

  What was happening to him?

  And more importantly—how did he know his name?

  The mercenary’s voice deepened, resonant, almost inhuman.

  “I… see… you… Y… you will not… escape me… Your eff…orts are futile… And Sena…tor So…la…na… will ne…ver… be elec…ted…”

  Aaronn had no time to process the words.

  The man’s body dissolved into thick, black smoke—evaporating into the night as though he had never existed.

  “Damn…” Aaronn breathed, stunned.