Page 70 of Captured Immune

Her scream pierces my ears as the knife slashes the side of her arm. The blade somersaults onto the floor with a few clanks, leaving a trail of blood in its path.

All the air leaves my lungs as Arella rips her hand out of mine to cover the fresh wound on her upper arm. She falls to her knees, screwing her face together in misery.

I’ve barely got a second to catch my breath before the knife zips off the floor, straight at me. I clench my fist. The knife stops just in time. With a twist of my wrist, it flies back the other way.

“Fuck!” The big guy stumbles backward, clutching the weapon sticking out of his chest until he collapses onto the floor and goes limp.

I point at the knife again. It shoots out of his body and straight at the next guy. He swerves away, but I twist the knife around, and it hits him in the back. With a wail, he falls onto his front. The wailing stops as his head droops to the side.

“Mark!” The last guy stares at his friend in devastation before shooting me a killer glare. “You piece-of-shit Royal spy!” His fireballs whiz toward me, one after another.

“No!” Arella shouts as she raises a bloody hand into the air.

The flaming balls stop so close to my cheeks, their heat prickles my skin before they roll onto the floor and vanish.

“How the hell are you doing that?” the guy shouts.

The blaring siren suddenly stops, then everything goes quiet. A second later, the red lights stop flashing too. Why did they—two women with high energy sprint from around the corner. One has short black-and-blue hair. The other has long red curls.

“Oh, come on,” I say through a groan. “Anyone but them.” I brace myself for the stabbing in my ears and the bites on my skin, but they never come. I glance behind me. “You’re doing great!”

Arella, still kneeling and clutching her bloody arm, shakes her head. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Ah!” The guy with fireballs in his palms falls to the floor. His hands are smoky as he clutches his ears. He screams as his body jerks and shudders. It’s only seconds before he bends over and vomits. I almost feel bad for him because I know the feeling all too well.

Pixie stops blowing, then hooks her thumb at him. “I think he’s one of us.”

“How do you know?” Ruby asks.

“Look at him. You really think the Royals are gonna recruit someone as scrawny as this dude?”

“I’m not the Royal!” the guy shouts and shakes a finger at me. “He is!”

Two fireballs appear in my palms.

“Nah,” Ruby says. “Trey’s one of the good guys.”

My jaw drops.Whhhaaat?

“Sorry it took us so long,” Ruby says. “We got a little held up on the way down here.”

Pixie saunters past me and peers down the hall. A sharp whistle leaves her lips. “Damn. Homeboy was busy. You gotta see this, Roobs.”

Ruby dashes past me to glance down the hall. “Holy moo maker! Are they all dead?”

“No,” I say as my fireballs disappear into smoke between my fingers. “They’re all sedated, I think.”

“How did you do that?”

“Perrizo guns.”

The women glance at each other, then back at me.

“You got any more?”

I shake my head. “I used every shot.”

“Dammit,” Pixie says, snapping her fingers. “We might need?—”

---