Chapter 3

“Little chilly tonight for Arizona,” Hudson commented with a shudder as they walked down an alley.

“You can’t complain, man. Tomorrow will be in the sixties and it’ll be a perfect day for a run in the desert,” Blake said, noting Noah’s silence. He hadn’t said much all night.

“I’m not doing any running tomorrow,” Hudson answered. “Tomorrow, I think Bev and I are going to do something with Killian.”

“Oh, yeah? Where you guys going?”

“I’m not sure. Beverly was talking about—”

The blow to the lower back knocked Blake to his knees, his hands painfully scraping across the asphalt, the smell of urine wafting up. He staggered to his feet, the baseball bat almost hitting him again.

Quickly assessing the situation, he realized they were outnumbered four to three. He could summon Nico, who sat in the Escalade waiting to be called if they ran into a situation like this. However, as the guy with the bat came at him again, he ducked and then pile-drove him into the brick wall, sending the bat flying.

As they traded punches, Blake’s rage morphed and grew, giving him intense focus on his attacker. Letting the anger build, he promised himself he wouldn't kill this bastard. He guessed this piece of shit had the same make up as him—part Colonist—yet, they resided on two different planes of humanity. Both were half-Colonist, half-human, but somehow, Blake could control his need to kill. The urge to end life didn’t course through his veins.

He took a fist to the jaw, but landed one of his own in the guy’s liver. As the man doubled over, Blake delivered an uppercut, certain his attacker would be seeing stars and probably have a good case of whiplash, as well.

Blake took a foot to the gut and cursed as he curled over. Apparently, his blow hadn’t been as powerful as he’d originally thought.

A forceful elbow landed in his shoulder, and he snapped his head back, connecting with the man’s face. Blood gushed from his nose as he fell to the pavement, and Blake couldn’t help but grin.

He glanced over and saw Hudson battling two assailants, his arms and legs moving in a lethal dance; yet, his attackers seemed to be able to match him blow for blow. Noah battled someone as well, his body moving in the fluid motion of a born warrior.

Hudson cursed and bent at the waist, and Blake saw a blade being pulled from his side. Blake pounced on the man who had stabbed him, taking him to the ground. As he wrestled the knife away, he felt a significant shift in the air. Someone else had arrived.

As he rolled to his back, he heard the distinct crack of bones breaking as he squeezed the man’s hand, the knife falling to the ground while howls of pain echoed in the alley.

Standing, he found the other assailants on the ground, and another man standing next to Noah.

When recognition set in, Blake lunged at him and slammed him face first into the building.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled.

“Is that who I think it is?” Noah asked, breathing heavily.

Hudson gingerly walked over to them, holding his side. “It is.”

“Are you in charge of this mess? Did you take over for Micah?” Noah yelled as sirens blared in the distance.

“The cops are going to be here any minute,” Blake murmured. “We need to finish him off.”

“No! Just listen to me!”

“Shut the fuck up, Titus,” Hudson growled.

“Just hear me out!”

“Kill him, Hudson,” Noah said. “I thought we were done with the Platoon, but I can see this one keeps coming back like flies to shit.”

Hudson pulled out a knife and moved toward Titus.

“I found more like us, Noah!” Titus yelled. “I found more SR44ians! Justice!”

Footsteps rounded the corner, and Noah drew his gun.

A huge black man came into view. He stood just as tall and wide as Noah, his bald head gleaming in the low lights, and sunglasses covered his eyes. He slipped them off, and his eyes glowed battleship gray.

The guy was definitely an SR44ian.

“Who are you?” Noah asked, and Blake heard the shock in his voice.

When SR44 had exploded, the Warriors had come to terms that they were the last of their people.

“My name’s Justice. Which one of you is Noah?”

“I am.” Noah stepped forward, his gun still leveled.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

As Blake caught his breath, he examined the situation around him. The cops drew closer; their attackers writhed on the ground; Hudson needed to be healed; a guy they thought dead had his face mashed up against the wall; and now, they had a surprise of epic proportions on their hands.

He let go of Titus and pulled his phone out and hit number one on speed dial. Nico picked up on the first ring.

“We need you here stat. Shit just kind of moved into the critical zone.”

He gave Nico directions to the main cross streets one block up and stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

“We need to move, ladies, unless you feel like having a chat with the cops.”

“Split up. Blake, you’re with Hudson. Titus and Justice, follow me. We’ll meet you there,” Noah ordered.

He and Hudson crossed the street and slinked down another alley. More SR44ians? Titus was alive? Man, things were about to get real interesting.

“You okay?” he asked.

Hudson nodded. “I just need a healing from Cohen.”

“I told Sophia it would be a quiet night on patrol.”

“Funny, that’s what I told Bev.”

“We were pretty wrong.”

“No truer words have ever been said.”