Lark’s brothers were overseas on a tour. She was missing them, so packed up the extra army backpack they gave her with supplies for a day at the beach. A thirty-minute Jet Ski ride brought her to one of their favorite spots—an isolated cove where she learned to swim the first time they lived in this area.

She shared many fond memories of that cove with her brothers. But that day, she wasn’t left in peace for very long to ruminate on them.

Lark began dozing off, basking in the sunshine, when she heard angry voices coming from the other side of the rock outcrop she was lying next to. Annoyed that her refuge of solitude was being encroached upon, she got ready to move farther down the beach. But she went stock-still as the voices became clear on the wind.

“It’s a little hard to concentrate with your weapons in my face. It’s right around here. Just give me a minute.”

That was the first time Lark heard Franklin Wright’s voice.

At seventeen, Lark was much more naive. Heedless of her own safety, she would rush in to help wherever there was a need without thinking. And there was a need now; that much was clear.

She quietly scaled the rocks and carefully peeked over the top. An old man searched the rocks opposite her. Between them, there was a small grassy area ending in a short, one-meter cliff into the deep blue ocean. On the grass stood three men, two with rifles slung on their sides, hands at the ready to bring them up for firing. Everyone’s backs were turned toward Lark.

“Remember, if we are not back within an hour, my men will kill Avi,” the leader threatened. Lark assumed he was the leader because he was the only one without a weapon drawn, and he wore an odd purple cape that distinguished him from everyone else.

“As you have told me several times, Casimer,” Franklin said in a tired voice. “I can’t believe you would go to these lengths. Betraying your own uncle, all for what, power you’ve never even tried to earn?” Franklin turned to glower at him.

Then he locked eyes with Larkspur.

Fortunately, no one seemed to notice his eyes widen, nor ask why he whirled back around to keep searching the rocks.

“That power belongs to me. He has no right to give it away!” Casimer snarled.

Lark ducked back behind the rocks, heart pounding. She had talked through hundreds of survival and rescue scenarios with Alex and Sterling since that was their job in the Army, but it was all theory. This was real life. People’s lives were in danger!

Think, Lark! What’s the point of training and learning everything from Lex and Sterl if you can’t actually use it?

She took a couple deep breaths, then weighed her options. The police were severely understaffed in this city. Almost every call took at least an hour for anyone to respond to. And they were way out on a mostly deserted stretch of beach. The closest house was several hundred yards away. The family she was staying with while her brothers were deployed couldn’t help—they were out of town for the rest of the week. Lark had stayed behind because her family’s home goods were being picked up later that day for their move next month.

Okay. So backup was probably not going to get there in time to help. This Casimer guy had said an hour, but one of them might get a little trigger-happy sooner rather than later.

She retreated to grab her stun gun and pocketknife from her backpack, then rummaged around in the seat of her Jet Ski just in case there was something there that could help. There was a tiny first aid kit and—a flare gun! She had never shot one before, but there was a first time for everything, right? It was better than nothing, anyway.

Surveying her pitiful arsenal, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She couldn’t take on three grown men by herself, especially if she was only trying to incapacitate them. No matter how strong and proficient she was, she was not going to win against armed thugs with a four-inch pocketknife, a taser, and a flare gun. Against overwhelming odds like these, she had to push any advantage she had.

She had never taken a human life before but had long ago come to the conclusion that some people needed to die. She rubbed her throat; she knew what it was like to live in fear and be saved from the clutches of death. If needed, she would do what had to be done to protect the life of another.

Taking another peek, Lark decided to wait at the top of the rocks, hoping for either a brilliant idea or advantageous chance to show itself. Almost unconsciously, she brought the flare gun up in front of her and rested her index finger gently above the trigger.

Franklin looked much more at ease as she watched him nonchalantly glance back around for her. But when he again met her eyes, she saw fear, pain, and sorrow fill his brown ones as he glanced at the guns hanging on the sides of his kidnappers.

She tried to smile reassuringly, but he only sighed in defeat.

“I-I think I found it.” He hesitated for a moment more before pulling a long silver container out of the rocks.

“Finally!” Casimer exclaimed. Stepping to the side, he casually ordered, “shoot him.”

Lark reacted without thinking. While Franklin tried to scramble off the rocks to the grass, she fired the flare gun at the armed man near Franklin, then dropped it and flipped open her knife while lunging from her hiding spot onto the back of the person closest to her.

Her maneuver did manage to startle everyone, including herself. Unfortunately, the flare was wildly unpredictable. It ricocheted off her target’s shoulder, leaving a sizable burn—although Lark wasn’t sure if his scream was from pain or surprise—then flew toward poor Franklin. He barely escaped the burning projectile; the flare landed right beside his foot, where it quickly fizzled out.

Oops.

Franklin jumped to the ground, looking at Lark in shock.

Sorry! she mouthed to Franklin as she dropped onto her quarry. Misjudging the distance, she didn’t end up square on his back. The knife in her right hand sank into his shoulder, not his neck. But her weight and momentum did manage to knock the man down onto one knee.

Casimer yelled in rage and lunged for Franklin’s silver container. Franklin swung it around to clock Casimer on the temple, which sent Casimer tumbling to hit the ground with a soft thud.

Lark tried to pull her knife back, but the serrated half got caught in her opponent’s clothes. She let go of it reluctantly and focused her attention on trying to keep his hands away from the rifle still hanging at his side. Luckily, the knife must have severed some sort of nerve, rendering his trigger hand useless.

“Look out!” Franklin yelled, still clutching the container as if his life depended on it.

The man Lark shot had apparently gathered his wits. He had a small black ball in his hand, poised to throw it at them.

Before she could react, Franklin—moving with astonishing speed and strength for someone who had to be at least sixty-five—jumped. He dragged her right over the cliff edge, diving into the ocean just as a violent shock wave ripped through her body.

“What was that?” she gasped as their heads broke the surface. “A stun grenade?”

“Something like that,” Franklin coughed.

They carefully climbed the rough cliff back to solid ground.

“Brilliant,” Franklin scoffed with a shake of his head, studying the bodies lying prostrate on the ground. “He knocked his whole group out. That’s what happens when you steal one of my inventions and use it without being instructed first.” His voice had an almost comical lecturing tone, considering the circumstances. “We won’t have to worry about them for a while. Now, as for you, young lady,” Franklin scolded, “what on earth were you thinking? Not that we’re not grateful, but—”

“We?” Lark glanced around curiously.

“Avi!” Franklin’s eyes went big. “They still have him!”

“Where?” Terrifying replays of this day were probably going to haunt her later, but right now, Lark’s head was surprisingly focused, even if her heart rate was through the roof. She walked over to the prone bodies. There was still work to be done. She worked her knife free and then carefully searched the unconscious men for other weapons.

“Oh no.” Franklin frowned. “Our people are on their way. You have done quite enough already. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. But I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to further endanger yourself. Give me that!” He took the grenade she’d just found.

Lark raised an eyebrow. “This guy said you had an hour before they dealt with your friend. By now, we probably have more like forty-five minutes. Will they get here in time?”

Franklin looked at his wrist grimly. Lark wondered what a thin, silver bracelet was supposed to tell him.

“I’m not sure,” he finally admitted. “Probably not.” He clutched the container to his chest.

“Then, it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Lark reasoned with a shrug.

“You have already risked too much,” Franklin said.

“Look,” Lark said. “I’m not sure I can save your friend. But the way I see it, without me, he dies for sure.”

“Fine,” Franklin sighed. “I don’t have time to argue the point with you.”

“Excellent. I’m Lark Bei.” Lark gave him a broad smile. “Where are they holding him, and how many are there?”

Franklin sighed, then pointed to a mansion about two hundred yards up the beach. “I’m Franklin Wright. Thank you for helping us. There are six men holding Avi hostage. The rest were with me.”

Lark noticed a dock with a short path that went straight to the back door.

They quickly came up with a plan—who knew all those late night strategy talks with her tactics-crazy oldest brother would come in handy so much?—as they tied up the unconscious men with their bootlaces. Just in case.

“All right,” Franklin said as they got ready to part ways. “Wait until I’m in position, then you can come in.”

“Roger.” Lark nodded, then disappeared over the rocks again to gather her belongings.

She quickly loaded up her backpack, keeping her binoculars out, and then started up the Jet Ski.

Staying by the cove, she watched Franklin through the binoculars as he carefully picked his way toward the bored-looking figure guarding the back door.

As soon as he was safely hidden behind a sand dune about twenty yards from the back door, Lark gunned the ski, making a beeline for the dock.

“Help!” she cried, waving an arm wildly. “I need some help!”

The guard started yelling, “Go away!”

She pretended not to hear and kept the Jet Ski pointed toward the house as two more armed men came out the house’s back door to join the one on the dock.

Until a spray of bullets churned the water right in front of her.

Apparently, the men was not averse to shooting at unwelcome visitors.

Hoping she was close enough, Lark heaved one of the grenades Franklin had reluctantly given her as close to them as she could, cut the engine, and dove into the water as another shock wave coursed through her body.

What are those things? she thought as she came sputtering to the surface.

Her stamina wasn’t anything to sneeze at, but she was no marathon runner. She was tired, aching, and scared. She had never done anything like this before. Her brothers were the Army heroes, not her. Why did she think she could do this?

Because you’re all Franklin and Avi have right now. Look at everything you’ve already done! Alex and Sterling might ground you forever when they find out, though, so you might as well do as much as you can now.

Smirking to herself, Lark rubbed her throat. One thing she had learned about herself: if she wasn’t being choked, fear seemed to make her mind clear and jump into action, not freeze up. That was encouraging.

Still a bit dazed from the strange grenade, she clambered back onto her Jet Ski. She grunted in frustration as the engine failed to turn over. The blast must have affected it.

She was worried about Franklin. The old man said he would be in a safe spot from the blast, but there were still two more men inside to deal with. And if the guys knocked out on the dock and back porch were any indication, it wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park to subdue them.

“Come on,” she coaxed the ski, turning the key one more time. The engine finally coughed back to life, but the power was next to nothing.

Lark impatiently guided the Jet Ski to the dock, grabbed her backpack and a rope from the seat, tied the vehicle to the dock, and then gingerly made her way around the unconscious men to creep in the open back door. She had kept the gun from the tussle on the beach and was now hoping the weird grenaded hadn’t affected its usefulness.

The mansion was huge. At least three floors. Since she didn’t hear any noise and had no idea where else to start, Lark quietly searched the ground floor.

Inside the fourth room she came upon, Franklin was untying another older gentleman—Avi, Franklin had called him earlier—from a chair by the fireplace. Two prone bodies lay at their feet, blood beginning to pool beneath them.

Franklin looked up as she entered the large parlor.

“Mistress Bei! Are you all right?” Franklin, finished with his friend’s restraints, stepped toward her.

“You’re bleeding!” Avi said, standing and rubbing his wrists.

Lark caught her reflection in a mirror on the wall. She was still soaked and in her swimsuit, so hadn’t noticed the steady stream of blood from her nose. Was it from those shockwaves?

“Wow. I look like I got worked over, don’t I?” She smiled. The truth was, now that her adrenaline rush was pretty much gone, her legs were starting to feel shaky.

“Well, being exposed to the effects of the, um, grenades,” Franklin shot a look at his friend as he handed her a handkerchief, “doesn’t exactly bode well for one’s health.”

“Avi Kynaston, at your service,” Avi introduced himself. “And forever in your debt. Your eyes!” he said with strange awe when he caught sight of them.

Lark was used to people doing a double take. Having two different colored eyes was unique. But he seemed especially shocked by her blue and gray eyes.

Before it got too awkward, people in black uniforms came pouring into the room, guns at the ready.

Lark brought her own back up. Where had they come from?

“Wait!” Avi’s deep voice ordered. “She helped us. Mistress Bei, they are here to protect us.”

“This is the backup?” Lark waited for Franklin’s agreement before lowering her gun.

“While they sort out what happened, and we wait for the authorities, you are welcome to use one of our extra rooms to wash up,” Avi graciously offered.

Lark realized she couldn’t just walk around town like this. At the very least, she needed to get this nosebleed stopped. “Thank you.”

“Avi, if you could show Mistress Bei to the bathroom, I’ll make sure everyone else is taken care of properly,” Franklin said.