40

Ashton

Ashton’s heart ripped the moment he saw her up close.

Blue crawling up her neck and down her arms, eyes black as pitch, she leapt at him with snarl.

He was ready, knowing how she’d swing. Blocking with his shield, he slashed with his sword, knocking her blow aside. Advancing, his blade already coming up, he slammed her in the chest. The shaft pinged off the armor, and she staggered backward, gasping.

“Stop,” he shouted, mis-stepping on his injured leg and feeling the wound tear anew. “Charlie…”

Her face didn’t register recognition, only rage. Dark hair flaring out as she spun, she sliced with her baton. It glanced off of him as he skidded underneath the conference table. Charlotte shoved it aside, exposing him, slashing down at him. He deflected the blow with his shield, rolling out from the table.

A billow of white vapor floated from her lips and the mechanica in her hands fired. She lunged and he dove, trying to parry her swings, but she was so fast. So strong. She knocked the sword from his hand, and her baton connected with his flank. A surge of energy lashed across his armor. The gum rubber protected him and he used the moment to swipe at her feet, taking her down.

Charlotte turned, extended her hand to the door, her temple devices flaring bright. Her knights burst in.

Riley came right behind them, fired shots at their backs, pulling their attention to the corridor, drawing them back out. They followed him, their armor clanging as they gave chase.

Ashton grabbed onto Charlotte, trying to hold her hands. Marks at her hairline, the burns from the shock treatment, sent his stomach twisting. Arecibo had tortured her. He knocked the baton from her grip and she hit him with a charge of light to his chest. He gasped, rearing back. Her legs swung up, wrapped around him a she twisted, throwing him to the side and leaping to her feet. She shot a look toward the governors.

They scrambled, heading for the doorway from which he’d come.

“Areté, Charlotte, mercy,” he said, scrambling after her.

Riley ran in from the side door, panting. “They followed me, and I led them to the fire like you said. They couldn’t look away from it!”

“Move,” Ashton yelled at Riley.

Charlotte yanked a throwing disk from her chainmail, flicked the switch, and hurled it at the sheriff. It hit him in the shoulder, buzzing as it cut. He went down firing his guns. A bullet glanced her head and the mechanica sparked, smoking and going black.

“Charlie!” Ashton ran to her but stopped short at the sight.

She faced him, blood streaming from her temple. Eyes blinking, her gaze swam. She shook her head, staggering. Dropping her baton, she took a step toward the governors, hesitated and looked down at her hands.

Ashton sheathed his sword, taking a cautious step.

She backed away, her expression blank, lost.

“Riley, get them out,” Ashton said. “Get them to Mordecai’s ship.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Riley choked, his wide gaze on Charlotte. “Blackburn, I didn’t mean—”

“Go now,” Ashton said. “Quickly.”

“Ashton, hurry,” Riley yelled over his shoulder as he herded the frightened men from the room.

“Ash…” Charlotte said, her voice a rasp.

“Charlie,” Ashton tried, stepping closer. His heart pounded, throat tight as he reached for her. “Are you there?”

Charlotte shook her head, and then her face contorted with anger again. She dove for her baton. He pulled his sword just as she came up with a slash of her weapon. Their blades clashed and Ashton stepped into her, crossing swords and pushing her back. He held her gaze, searching for any part of her that was left. She shoved back, but he held fast, the sparks from her baton sparking along the shaft of his sword, lighting up her dark irises.

“You are not a monster!” he shouted. “You are mine. Not his.”

Tremblers, gnashing and shrieking, sounded down the corridor behind the door. They were closing in.

Ashton whirled, swinging with the sword, stepping out and delivering a blow to the back of her armor. She launched forward, her hair whipping in his face as she staggered to the wall.

Charlotte turned, her ruined device sparking, the look on her face full of confusion and anger.

The door swung inward, and Tremblers poured in, lunging for him, their blue arms shaking. He backed up. “Please, love…” he choked out.

She trembled, a terrible growl ripping from her lips.

Ashton’s heart wrenched. He pulled his gun, aimed, and shot her.