Page 9 of Scarlet Wars
We pressed forward, but the soldiers were quick to adapt. Guns snapped into place, the harsh clatter of metal and boots filling the air as they closed ranks around us.
“Shit,” I hissed, punching my fist into someone’s gut. The soldier’s body crumpled beneath the blow, but it didn’t matter. More were moving in fast, and their numbers were overwhelming.
“There are too many of them to do this without my haze,” I growled while my knuckles cracked against another jaw.
James grunted as he drove his knee into a soldier’s stomach, sending him flying back. “You’re complaining now, Colt?”
“Just making one of myexceptionalobservations,” I snapped, my blood boiling as the soldiers pressed in tighter.
But we didn’t need to take them all down, just enough for us to break through.
Then James’s voice cut through. “Push left, hard.”
I didn’t question him, swung left and cleared space with a vicious elbow. The bubble shimmer thinned, almost gone.
Crossing the border into Canada again, magic prickled back over my skin.
“Cover me!” I barked, right before my boot hit the canister I’d kept tucked in my pack. It detonated with a concussive pop, a fist of gray smoke punching up so fast all their heads snapped up to the other side. Shouts, rifles, and a chorus of coughs flooded the checkpoint.
Perfect.
I shot out my black haze, hidden by the curtain of smoke. Metal screamed into existence before two matte-black Yamahas materialized out of thin air, chrome gleaming, engines already primed.
James grunted as he snapped a guard’s neck, holding the line while I swung a leg over one bike.
“Go!” I roared.
He vaulted onto the other, engine snarling to life under him. Bullets cracked through the trees, as sparks bit off the translated metal.
Side by side, we tore out of Stanhope like hellhounds unleashed, headlights cutting a burning path through the fog while soldiers scattered behind us.
We’d cut it close, but I didn’t give a shit. My mind was solely focused on one thought, and one thought only.
Four days. No one had heard from her infourfucking days.
THREE
EMMA
Four days prior
Blood. So much blood. Everywhere.
I woke up, laying on the floor in the middle of an actual pool of blood. The sticky crimson liquid clung to every part of my body, soaking through my clothes.
The TV in the background droned on, broadcasting another grim update: “The nationwide magic-free bubble is still in effect. No magi are permitted to use any form of magic, translation, or deception. Violators will die. Do not panic; this is only temporary, until the authorities determine the appropriate next course of action.”
I blinked. How the hell was I still alive? The bubble was still in effect; I should’ve died on the spot.
My mind raced, spinning in chaotic circles as fragmented images from the last hour began to take shape. The faces. The shouts. The unmistakable sound of heavy boots crashing through the doorway.
They had come for me. They had known I had magic. They had a warrant formyarrest. But why? How had they found me? How did they know who and what I was?
"Enemy of the state," they’d told my parents. No further explanation.
And then... And then... my mom had stepped forward. Not back, not aside,forward. Shielding me.
My dad had followed, stepping in front of her, shieldingus.
