We’re still skirting the edge of the mob, staying in the shadow of the buildings by the side of the street, when a thunderous explosion rocks the ground. Xzavic moves at the speed of light to loom over me, protecting me from the falling edifice of the abandoned two-story shop building we’re standing in front of.
Another explosion rocks the ground. Xzavic’s body bounces against mine, sometimes accompanied by grunts of pain. He’s a giant, a titan, but he’s not superhuman. A building is literally falling on him, and he’s trying with all his might to protect me.
Suddenly, everything is quiet. Well, that’s an odd word to describe what’s going on. Although there’s no more thunderous sound of falling buildings, a high-pitched squeal rings in my ears which is overpowered by the sound of crying, then wailing.
I hear the words “ion cannon” more than once. Was this terrorist act perpetrated by the network? The Feds? The local “peacekeepers”? Or was it Drezin or the two Frains, whom Zedd informed us had ion cannons?
“Xzavic, are you okay?” I rise to my feet and inspect him. His back is more thickly plated than any other part of his body. I’d often wondered why that was his superpower. Frankly, I thought it wasn’t impressive as those things go. He doesn’t have fangs, claws, or the ability to fly.
As I look at the amount of rubble surrounding us and realize most of it hit his back before falling to the ground, I become a little more impressed.
“I’m okay,” he says as he stands with effort to his full height.
“No. You’re not. You’ve got a thousand scratches. You’re bleeding heavily from three gouges, and your gorgeous black hair is so dusty it looks gray.” I flash him a smile like some feisty heroine in a movie. All at once, though, my emotions escape from the tight cage I’ve kept them in.
My terror at the explosion, the fear that raced along my veins as I felt him getting pounded from above, all of that finally comes into my awareness. I watch my hands tremble in fear. It’s as if they belong to someone else.
Then I’m hit with a second wave of emotion. Look at him. He’s bleeding profusely. He could have died.
“I love you,” I blurt. “I love you, Xzavic.”
Terrible timing.
