Archenemies (Renegades #2)(131)

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the sight of Max’s blood. Either way, the doctor’s frenzied expression gave way to something almost kind. Then he turned his back and the doors swung shut, rattling back and forth a few times before falling still.

Adrian spun toward the receptionist. He noticed for the first time how everyone in the room had moved away from him, crowding against the walls.

“Look,” he said, “that kid is a Renegade, and a ward of Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden. They have to save him.”

The receptionist inhaled deeply. “We are professionals, sir. They will do everything they can.”

Shoulders drooping, Adrian stepped away. All his strength left him at once and he slumped onto a nearby bench. It groaned beneath the weight of the suit.

Adrian knew he was being watched. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at him, trying to decide if they should be scared, or if they should alert the Renegades … if they hadn’t already.

He didn’t much care what they decided about him or who came to arrest him. He collapsed over his knees, gripping the sides of his helmet in both hands. The suit felt like a wall around him, separating him from the world. He had built this sanctuary for himself, and now he was alone with his thoughts, and his fears, and the jumbled, chaotic memories of all that had happened.

He was shaking, and his mind returned to anger, because it was the easiest emotion to embrace at the moment. Anger at himself, for not being faster. Anger at Nightmare for daring to attack a kid. Just a kid. Anger at the hospital for not being prepared, for taking too long to get a doctor to help. Even more anger at himself for not having the medallion with him so that first healer could have done something.

His thoughts spun to Nova, and how she believed that society was too reliant on prodigies. People expected a Renegade to be around to help them whenever they needed it. To solve all their problems for them.

Maybe she was right. Maybe they depended too much on superheroes. And what if that dependence cost Max his life?

The memory returned to him, agonizing and sharp. Nightmare crouched over Max’s body, her hands covered in his blood.

Adrian’s fingers curled into fists.

Why hadn’t she been weakened by his power? It didn’t make sense.

He would find out. He would uncover her secrets, once and for all. About Max. About the helmet. About her knowledge of his mother’s murder.

And then he would find her and annihilate her.

He heard a commotion outside and leaped to his feet. Sirens were wailing, the familiar sound of Renegade patrols on the move.

He glanced at a nearby door that led to a stairwell.

Simon and Hugh would be there for Max, and Simon could give his medallion to any healer who needed it. They could explain its significance and the nature of Max’s ability.

Max didn’t need Adrian to be there anymore, and he wasn’t ready for this confrontation.

He caught sight of flashing lights through the broken glass door, and then Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden were barreling toward him. The rest of the Council was absent, and through a fog, Adrian remembered Ace Anarchy, unconscious in the catacombs.

Clenching his fists, Adrian bolted through the nearest door and launched himself up the stairwell, heading for the roof.

He couldn’t hold on to his secret for much longer. There would be consequences for all the choices he had made, the rules he had broken.

But for now, the Sentinel still had a job to do.

Nightmare was alive and she needed to be stopped.

He would not give up the Sentinel until she was destroyed.





CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

PHOBIA WAS WAITING for them outside the row house on Wallowridge. And all the cheering and euphoria that had overtaken them during their drive vanished with four simple words.

The Renegades took Ace.

Nova’s heart squeezed. She didn’t—couldn’t—believe it. Phobia told them everything, and all celebration ceased.

Leroy turned on the car radio and they all stood there, listening, unwilling to believe.

The journalists were beyond themselves, talking a million miles per minute as they repeated every tiny, trivial detail of the capture. The fact that Ace Anarchy was still alive at all was a shock to them, and to know that he had been found and brought into custody … not by the Renegades, though a patrol unit had arrived to take the villain to headquarters.

No. Ace had been captured by the Sentinel.

Even thinking his name made Nova’s skin crawl with loathing.

Finally, when they could no longer deny the truth of the reports, they trudged through the front door, full of disbelief.

Honey brushed past Nova and headed up the groaning, angry steps. The bedroom door slammed and, seconds later, Nova could hear the start of her wails. For the first time, Nova couldn’t write them off as Honey’s knack for melodrama.

“You did well tonight, little Nightmare,” Leroy said, settling a hand on Nova’s shoulder.

She didn’t respond, and soon he, too, clopped up the steps to his room. The door closed on squeaking hinges.

Phobia lingered a minute longer, his presence haunting the corners of the room. He didn’t say anything. For once, Nova had no fears that he could possibly comment on.

All her worst fears had come true.

The Renegades had Ace. Despite everything, she had failed.

Finally, he too vanished, transforming into a colony of bats and soaring out through the door. It slammed shut in his wake, rattling the weary house.