Chapter 29
Aiden and Mike looked at each other in surprise before they joined in with the throng of people rushing for the exit. When they made it outside, they saw that the person who’d yelled was right. Itwasa riot. White shirts were everywhere. The scene was reminiscent of the previous time the white shirts had showed up en masse. But tonight, there were dozens of them. And they were hell bent on harming both property and people. They shoved guests to the ground. Hit Players. Smashed club windows with bricks and baseball bats.
Rage burning in his chest, Aiden was about to dive in and start swinging on anybody dressed in all white when Mike grabbed his arm. Aiden spun around to look up at him. “I need to get out there and fight!”
“You will. But first, I need you to calm down and focus. Second, remember you’re not in disguise and you don’t have your sai.”
Fuck. Mike was right. He was barely even dressed. His gear was in his bag but he didn’t want to take the time to go and change. He sucked in a deep breath, forcibly pushing down his rage so that he could fight with a clear head. “Anything else?”
“I’m calling for backup.”
Aiden nodded. “Good. We can use the help.”
Mike released his arm.
“Be careful.”
“You too.”
They shared a lingering look, no time to verbally express anything they were thinking in that moment. Mike broke the eye contact by putting on his emerald sunglasses. He left and Aiden strode off in the opposite direction.
Fists clenched, Aiden went after the nearest white shirt. When a cold breeze blew over his bare skin, the absurdity of fighting in high heeled boots with his hair loose and his ass hanging out hit him. Now he knew what every female video game character ever had to deal with. Aiden had no trouble with his punches. But when he kicked, his balance was all wrong. He pitched backward on his heels and fell on his ass, the pavement roughly abrading his bare cheeks.
The white shirt he’d been battling laughed and ran off.
“Damnit!” Ignoring his embarrassment and stinging ass, Aiden jumped back to his feet. The next time he kicked he made sure to adjust his stance, tensing his thighs and shifting forward slightly on his toes, determined not to fall again.
The situation was a nightmare. Fighting while watching out for screaming, fleeing guests and Players. Saving people from assault by the white shirts. Dodging cars speeding away to escape the Playground every time he had to cross the street to rescue someone else.
Sirens suddenly wailed over the sounds of shouts and breaking glass, signaling the arrival of the police. For once, Aiden was glad the police were coming. But he didn’t stop fighting. He’d just taken down a female white shirt armed with a 2x4 when a cop came up to him.
“Okay, buddy. You’re under arrest for—.”
“Fuck that.” Aiden didn’t let him finish. He wasn’t masked but he didn’t care. Wasting time getting arrested was not on his agenda. He set his glow free, enough to momentarily ensnare the officer’s attention. Then, he sprinted off before the man was fully enthralled, looking for someone else to fight.
After what seemed like hours—but in reality was less than thirty minutes—the riot was over. The white shirts disappeared, leaving the Playground in shambles. Many of the colorful neon signs blinked erratically or were completely dark, thanks to the bricks thrown at them. Smoke rose from several small fires the Players had quickly acted to put out while firemen battled larger blazes. Broken glass was everywhere—multiple expensive plate glass windows shattered and car windows busted.
Aiden stared at the wreckage, fists clenched, tears clogged in his throat. He was hurt and angry, but he was also more determined than ever. Pruitt, the Purity Alliance, and anybody else involved in the scheme to steal the Playground werenotgoing to get away with this.
