Page 25 of Stormbreaker

Her face stretches into a gleeful smile. “Other members of Aria will be out there tracking you and trying to stop you from reaching the target.”

“Stop me how?”

Stevie’s grin widens. “They can stop you any way they see fit. We can’t make this too easy.” She lifts an arm and spins around. “And that’s all the time we have for questions.”

She strides toward the doorway we entered. “Countdown ready?” she asks the masked figures, who slowly slink out of the room and disappear until it’s just Stevie and me. She taps the face of her watch.

“All good?” she asks, pressing a button before a bright red number ten appears on her screen. It’s already counting down, the seconds draining away. I suffer through a moment of indecision. What have I done?

“Get set . . . Go!”

My wristband shudders and then beeps before the light blinks more rapidly.

I look at it and then up at Stevie, who’s standing with her arms folded.

“Don’t just stand there,” she says. “Get the fuck out of here.”

She steps aside, and I don’t wait to be told again, reentering the vault where Devon, Anan, and the other members of Fiama stand at the far wall, watching me, their expressions a worrying mix of anger and bewilderment.

I don’t have time to assure them I’m not actually joining Aria. That would be impossible for so many reasons.

Instead, I take off.

The light on my wrist switches to red as I enter the tunnel. I pick left and take a few steps before the light turns blue. Nope. I double back, watching as it flashes red.

Okay, this isn’t so bad.

For a minute or so, I wind through the tunnels, ignoring everything around me. The wristband offers just enough light to make out the walls and corners as I weave back and forth until I come to a ladder directing me back to the surface. More blinking as the climb leads me to an elevator with a single glowing button. I press it and ascend before emerging into a dark corridor of Amery I’ve never seen before.

Sweat is gathering at my hairline, and my breath heaves out in short bursts. It takes me a second to notice movement in the shadows. It’s impossible to make anyone out beyond the bright flashing of my light. They can easily see me, but I can’t see them.

The scuff of footsteps tells me I’m definitely not alone. I try to calm my breathing, hoping they’ll give away their position. Another sound off to my left suggests more than one person is lying in wait.

I take two steps to my left, and the light switches to blue. Two to my right make it turn red. But someone is there. I can make out a large shadow, and then . . . the glint of steel. They have a weapon. My heart pounds faster as I consider my options. I take two more steps, and the light remains red.

So I run, hoping I’m cutting a path between my two attackers. Arms and legs pumping, I sprint with every ounce of speed I can. Something moves off to my right, and I let out a yelp before pain burns in my side.

I grunt and nearly miss a step before I slap a hand over my ribs. Instantly, I feel the telltale stickiness of blood. Someone sliced me open. I’m so shocked that I nearly stop running, but the pounding of footsteps behind me reminds me that I’m fucked if I don’t keep moving.

I veer left as my wristband turns blue, the light burning through the darkness. I quickly course correct, breathing a sigh of relief when it flashes red. Another hall and then another, before the light directs me toward an emergency exit.

I burst through the heavy door, but someone is waiting for me.

A slight figure wearing a mask stands at the bottom of the stairwell, blocking my way up. At least I know I’m on the right track.

“Little girl,” the figure taunts in a feminine voice. “Time to stop running.”

I approach and feint. The woman lurches left as I go right. Somehow, I skirt past her, the wound in my side throbbing as I twist away from her grasp. I make it two steps before something snags my ankle, and I’m going down. I scream as my knee crashes into the metal stair, pain radiating up my thigh and into my hip.

The woman leaps, dropping on top of me. I snag her wrists, squeezing them, trying to stop her from clawing my face. We rock back and forth as the sharp edge of the stair digs into my back, making everything—my ribs, my knee, my spine—hurt.

Thankfully, the woman is smaller than I am. I try to use that to my advantage, rolling us to the side, until she’s pinned under me. We bump down a few steps, her spine scraping the edges as a scream tears from her throat.

I release one of her wrists and swing, my fist connecting with her cheek.

She howls as her head snaps to the side.

I take the opportunity to jump up, my right leg nearly crumpling under me. Briefly, I wonder if I broke it as I slam into the guardrail, using it for support. My attacker is still recovering from my punch as I try to catch my breath.