Page 87 of Reluctant Rebel

“Of course. The team are researching day and night to track down the descendants.”

The four of them spent another hour meticulously reviewing each detail of their current plan. They examined every angle,considered every contingency, and scrutinised every resource at their disposal. When there was finally nothing left to discuss, only actions to take, Mikhail felt a mixture of relief and frustration. He believed they were making solid progress in every direction: securing allies, gathering intelligence, and fortifying their defences. Yet, one critical piece remained elusive: capturing Z. They could account for nearly every variable except for the unpredictable nature of Z. How could they neutralise a threat they couldn't even pinpoint, let alone kill?

“We'll just have to move forward and hope an opportunity presents itself,” Mikhail said, more to himself than the others. However, he didn't fully believe his own words. They all knew the stakes; improvisation could be fatal.

“The opportunity to kill Z?” Sabre questioned. “Oh, it will happen. And sooner rather than later. I have no doubt we’re interfering with his plans enough that he’s getting pissed. And impatient. Which means he’ll make a mistake.”

Mikhail hoped she was right. He was getting impatient himself. And not just to have safety restored to his world, but for his love life. He’d seen Jinx daily, spoken with her, and even stolen a few kisses here and there. But they hadn’t slept together again, and they hadn’t once discussed their feelings or their future. They were both holding up their end of the bargain, both being mature and responsible. And it was really pissing him off. He wanted Jinx, and he wanted her now!Buthe didn’twantto want her. Andthatwas pissing him off even more.

He whimpered, lowering his head to his desk. But before he could wallow, Sabre pinched his ear and yanked his head up. “Ow!Say-ber!” he whined.

“There will be none of that. No sulking. While the Horde is off protecting the masses, you two,” Sabre pointed to Brax and Mikhail, “are going to be practising your new superpowers.”

“I’ve been trying,” Mikhail admitted, rubbing his sore ear. “In every spare moment. I’ve been trying to create another forcefield, but I can’t.”

“Hence, why I said practice.” Sabre literally hauled him to his feet. “Come on. Get your butt to the training hall. If we have any chance of defeating Z when we discover his whereabouts or when he attacks, then we need you and Brax to bring the goods.”

“I already bring you the goods,” Brax pointed out, ogling Sabre’s leather-clad body. “Every night.”

Sabre grinned at her man, patting his cheek as she walked past. “That you do. But think how fun sex could be with electric armour. What if you could make it vibrate?”

Brax’s mouth fell open, his eyes glued to Sabre’s arse as she sauntered her way out of the room. “I love training!” he shouted, chasing after Sabre like a lovesick fool.

“I don’t know where I went wrong with that boy,” Draven muttered with a disgusted shake of his head.

Mikhail clapped him on the back. “It’s not your fault. He was dropped on his head as a baby. What little sense he had left, Sabre corrupted.”

Draven grinned at Mikhail with appreciation. “True dat.”

Mikhail was shocked into a laugh, his smile staying in place as they made their way to the Horde’s training area. He was barely through the door when a projectile whizzed past his ear. “What the fuck?” he screamed, ducking down low. His heart pounded as he looked up to see Mercy standing with an unsettlingly cheerful grin.

“Sabre said I could throw things at you,” Mercy announced, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Mikhail stood up warily, glaring at the pain demon. “And you believed her?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mercy replied with a shrug. “It’s practice, right? Think quick.”

Mercy’s hand shot forward in a flash, releasing another object with alarming speed. Mikhail swore but didn’t duck. He strained, trying to force his brain or his body to create a barrier to intercept the object, but nothing happened. He braced for impact, for the sting of metal or the crack of bone. Instead, he caught it, his fingers closing around it with a snap, his elbow absorbing the force like a shock absorber. For a second, he didn’t dare look. Then, slowly, he opened his hand and glanced down.

It was a soft, harmless stress ball shaped like a heart. Mikhail squeezed it, his tension draining away as quickly as it had built. “Very funny.”

Mercy laughed. “I may listen to Sabre, but I’m not stupid. I’m not about to throw deadly objects at the King … unless he tells me I can.” He paused, bouncing on his toes. “Can I?”

Mikhail shot Sabre a dirty look across the mats. “Your friends are just as sick as you are.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sabre replied with a grin. “Now, make a forcefield. Brax, Tin Man.”

“How?!” Both men shouted simultaneously.

“Think about it,” Draven bade them calmly. “These new abilities are a part of you, just like the others. Which means youcancontrol them.”

“But my power is defensive and automatic. It senses danger and manifests by itself. I don’t think about it,” Brax explained.

“Maybe not consciously,” Draven allowed. “But your armour is stillyou. It’s not a separate entity.”

Brax was silent for a moment, clearly thinking before he pointed at Mikhail. “You go first.”

“You’re such a wimp,” Mikhail spat.

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