Page 81 of Over the Edge

“Of course, we want a demonstration, not an outright massacre,” Moreau added. “So we’ll provide our friends with a sporting chance.”

He snapped his fingers, and the guards threw a couple of small-caliber pistols and two combat knives on the ground. Then they disappeared behind the heavy door again, locking it closed with a heavy thud, leaving Flynn and Lyric alone in the arena with Sentinel.

The drone hummed, patient and predatory.

My hand drifted toward the weapon at the small of my back. I could hit the fucking thing from here.

Decker caught my arm. “I wanted a plan, Vigil. Not a suicide pact.”

He was right. No doubt Sentinel had the best shielding available. A single bullet wouldn’t take it out of the sky, which meant Moreau’s “sporting chance” was just another show.

He absolutely wanted a massacre.

“Find the signal jammer,” I ordered. “Take it out, and call in air support.”

Decker nodded. “What are you going to do?”

I watched Flynn put himself between Lyric and the drone. He wasn’t thinking tactically. He was thinking like a man who’d already decided he’d die for her.

But Lyric didn’t stay behind him. She squared her shoulders, picked up one of the pistols, and fired. The bullet pinged harmlessly off Sentinel’s shielding.

“Initiate pursuit protocol,” Moreau commanded.

The drone shot forward.

I swore and turned away from the arena. What was I going to do? Whatever it took to keep them alive until backup arrived.

Even if it meant I didn’t walk out of here with them.

CHAPTER26

FLYNN

“Lyric, move!”I shouted, already diving to my right as the first drone fired.

A neurodart embedded itself in the stone where Lyric had stood a heartbeat earlier. She’d launched herself in the opposite direction, rolling behind a massive stone planter as two more darts peppered the ground around her. For a split second, our eyes met across the courtyard—a lifetime of tactical training condensed into a single glance.

The crowd erupted in excitement, their previously hushed whispers transforming into enthusiastic cheers as the “entertainment” began. From his platform, Moreau watched with the smug satisfaction of a man who’d orchestrated the perfect spectacle. I wanted nothing more than to drive my knife between his ribs, but the immediate threat of the drones demanded my full attention.

I scrambled behind a decorative column as another dart whizzed past my ear, close enough that I felt the disturbed air against my skin.

Then Sentinel broke into two pieces.

Then three.

Then four.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Swarm mode. The single unit had split into a quartet of smaller, faster drones, each independently targeting and tracking. I’d read about this in the intel briefing, but seeing it in action was another level of terrifying.

“They’re using thermal tracking!” I yelled to Lyric, who was pinned behind her planter, eyes calculating her next move. “And movement prediction!”

The knife and gun Moreau had tossed me both felt pathetically inadequate against the hovering death machines. I clutched them anyway, my only weapons against technology explicitly designed to kill people like us.

Two drones peeled off toward Lyric while the other pair circled my position. I needed to draw at least one away from her.

“Hey!” I shouted, darting from behind my cover and sprinting toward a decorative fountain. “Over here, you piece of shit!”

---