“Run!” Val shouted as the hound's claw tore through his sleeve.

  Next thing in his line of sight was a blur of gray shadow and metallic clangs. Val scrambled through the brush.

  He heard Dan’s bouncy footsteps diverge to the left, leading a second shadow away. Dan’s voice cut through the chaos, drawing the Hound’s attention in unpredictable arcs.

  "Dan!" Val called, but his voice was swallowed by a new sound.

  Val’s boots sank into the quivering moss. He scrambled, and grabbed at roots to find a footing.

  He broke through a thicket of thorns and skidded to a halt and froze.

  What he feared the most really happened.

  The worst variable to his agenda, the Blacktooth Gang.

  ‘Where did they come from? Dammit, I need to stay low...’

  The Skitter-Drake mounts of the Blacktooth Gang emerged from the treeline like mechanical insects, their multi-jointed legs stabbing into the earth.

  ‘What? They even used Abyssal as mount? Is that even possible?’

  Among them, a figure with twisted chain and matte-black chitinous plating, Chigurh. He swung the chain once, catching a distant branch mid-air. The motion was precise, almost ritualistic.

  Val noted him immediately, ‘This one is not to be trifled with.’

  In the front, Cane tightened his Drake’s saddle, ready to go.

  “Ck..ck, easy boy, you will eat heartily tonight. Papa can guarantee you that. Heh heh.”

  Chigurh led the charge in the center, while Cane and Suture flitted along the right flank, eyes glinting as he scanned the fleeing group.

  The raid has started.

  Lysa screamed her lungs out, “Oh my God! It’s them! The Black-funk something mafia! What do we do?”

  “Oh, hell no! Move get out the way! Mooove!” Rafa shouted, being the first to bolt into the Silvergrass Plains.

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  Val cut diagonally, shadowing the Blacktooth advance instead of fleeing with the others.

  He could see Rafa sprinting ahead, Marcus’s group following in a tight, jagged line.

  “Spread out!” Marcus shouted.

  Marcus’s remaining group, about eight people—sprinted through a stretch of Silvergrass that reached their chests, kicking up clouds of fine metallic dust.

  “The vegetation up ahead is denser; it’ll mask our energy signatures!”

  They were wrong. The Blacktooth weren't hunting energy signatures; they were listening for ground vibrations.

  “They’re already here!” a Martyr at the back of the line screamed. “We’re ambushed!”

  “Don't stop! Keep moving!” Marcus barked without looking back.

  "Help! Something’s pulling my leg!"

  The voice was cut short with a heavy thud. The Martyr vanished instantly, swallowed into the ground beneath him.

  "Lysa? Where’s Lysa?!"

  "Stay on the path!" Marcus tried to maintain his authority, but his voice was trembling.

  Clank.

  The marching sounds were getting closer.

  “There’s no escape!” another Martyr screamed hysterically. He began swinging his weapon blindly into the silver grass around him.

  “Don't scream! You're just giving them your coordinates!”

  One of the Blacktooth riders, a wiry man with glowing violet eyes, The Suture—skipped over a fallen Martyr with unnerving grace, unsheathed his chain-hook, then tilted his head as if inspecting the distance.

  A split second later, the silver grass beneath the panicking Noah exploded. A massive iron hook lunged out, piercing the man’s thigh and dragging him flat onto his back.

  [VERSE: FLESH HOOK]

  “ARGH! MY LEG! THEY’VE GOT MY LEG! HELP!”

  His body was dragged at high speed into the depths of the silt, leaving a long wake in the swaying grass. His comrades could only watch as the man’s hand clawed at the air before he vanished entirely.

  “Run for the trees! Marcus, we have to get out of here!”

  The Martyrs began running in every direction, trying to avoid the shadows beneath their feet, but every step they took only created the very vibrations that invited death.

  Val was already turning away. Ready to leave them behind, when a sudden commotion erupted to his right.

  “No! Let me go!”

  Elena.

  Two Blacktooth thugs were dragging her toward a transport cage, her medical kit scattered and trampled in the silt.

  Val looked to the left.

  Marcus lay pinned, clutching stolen Heart from a fallen Martyr.

  His Rungu was shattered. He was defenseless.

  One move from Val would end him. It would be easy. It would be justice.

  Val’s hand tightened on the orb in his right hand. He looked at Marcus, the man who called him "bait."

  Then he looked at Elena. The woman who had used her last stabilizer on his arm.

  ‘Revenge is a one-time transaction,’ the Scientist in him whispered. ‘Utility is a recurring revenue.’

  Marcus was a broken tool. Elena was a laboratory.

  Val turned his back on Marcus’s dying gasps. He didn't feel a flicker of pity; he felt the cold, hard weight of a new equation.

  His eyes fixed on the thugs dragging Elena into the dark.

  "Change of plans," Val muttered to the empty air.

  He lunged to the right.

  9:30 AM EST

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