Through the thick of the forest, five figures stood—four against one.
Rain fell in heavy sheets, drumming against the canopy above, turning the air to mist. The scent of wet earth and moss filled Ezra's lungs as he braced himself, breath shallow, heart hammering.
He was surrounded.
Ann cracked her knuckles, the metallic sheen of her gauntlets catching the dim forest light. With a grin, she rolled her shoulders—her arms shifted, reshaping into reinforced steel with a chorus of grinding joints and locking plates.
Mark raised his firearm without hesitation. The barrel gleamed, glowing faintly—tracking rounds.
Ezra's gut clenched. Dodging wouldn't be enough. These bullets would hunt.
And then there was Liz.
She didn't speak. Just exhaled once.
And vanished.
Ezra's eyes barely had time to widen before she was on him—her blade flashing down in a clean arc. He twisted, narrowly escaping the strike, the steel hissing past his throat like a whisper of death.
Too close.
A gunshot cracked through the rain.
Ezra caught the glint of the bullet from the corner of his eye. It was wide—should've missed—but it bent mid-air, curving unnaturally toward his shoulder.
He shifted at the last moment.
The round grazed him, burning a line through his skin.
And then Kyle charged.
Ezra turned—too slow.
The blow slammed into his gut like a battering ram. His ribs crunched under the impact, the breath ripped from his lungs. A beat later, a concussive shockwave followed, rippling through his chest. Kyle's shield resonance.
Pain bloomed behind his eyes. His vision went white.
Then he hit the ground.
Hard.
Mud exploded around him. Rain splattered against his face. The world spun.
Ann was already above him.
Her fist came down—steel, brutal, unrelenting.
Ezra rolled, the punch slamming into the tree where his head had been. Bark shattered. Wood split like glass.
That would've caved my skull in.
Another gunshot. Another flicker of motion behind him.
They weren't giving him space.
Weren't letting him breathe.
They were going for the finish.
Ezra exhaled, dragging air into his lungs, forcing himself upright.
No more running.
No more holding back.