Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha, #1)(81)

Molly’s lithe body parts the mist of scarlet vapor, and I have just enough resolve to send a small arm-mounted rocket off in that general direction. Case is the one who goes flying and the inhibition sickness hits me again, reminding me that no one in this room is susceptible to my new powers.

Molly stops, and then the Blue Boar is dancing on a table. He’s got a swine mask on now, playing his part perfectly. “Collar him, Omega! Collar him now!”

The barbs from the lariat are still embedded into my skin when she pulls it. My flesh tears and more pain sends me right back to the place I was just climbing out of. Once the length is free, Molly snaps the rope, and it slaps against Case’s neck and—

Gunfire erupts. I force myself up onto my knees and see Thomas in the open office door. He shoots the lariat and snaps the tension before Molly can behead Case.

The Blue Boar is screaming. Case is screaming. Thomas is roaring insults and bullets. Glass is shattering everywhere I look. Falling down on me. Shards inches long embed into my legs, my chest, my arms—forcing me back down to the floor.

Eighteen thirty-two and ten seconds, Sheila says in my head. Get out of there, you’re out of time.

Three grappling hooks shoot into the office from the ’copter hovering above and land on the floor in the middle of the room.

I spy my gun a few feet away from my outstretched right hand, just waiting for me to pick it up. And then Case takes a bullet to his shoulder and goes down. It came from Molly’s gun and she moves on to Thomas. She shoots him too, his body spinning as his chest takes the brunt of the force.

Eighteen thirty-two and forty-five seconds.

Molly comes after me next but I’m still recovering from the burns I inflicted on her. The Blue Boar jumps down from the table and walks over towards me for the final show.

Molly hovers over my prone body, each of her legs on either side of my hips. She points her weapon at me and then sits down, her ass on my thighs. The barrel of her gun moves closer and closer to the center of my forehead and then stops, pressing against my skin so hard it cuts.

“Collar him, Omega,” the Boar says off to my right. He’s practically gleeful. “Collar him and I will let him live as my slave.”

Molly brings up the length of metallic rope she has left and holds it over me. It writhes like a snake, like it’s alive and eager to make me its prisoner.

Eighteen thirty-three and four seconds, Sheila says in my head. Kill her now or you all die.

“Kill me,” I say instead. “Kill me, Molly.”

She grinds her teeth, gnashing them together as she jams the barrel of the gun against my forehead.

“Collar him,” Boar yells. “Collar him! I need him, Omega. I need him and you must—”

The magnetic field in my right hand begins to buzz.

“—take him alive!”

“Molly,” I whisper. She can’t possibly hear me. Not over all the noise of the Boar, the helicopter, and the moans from Case.

But she pauses, her blank eyes trained on mine.

She’s still in there. She’s still in that body somewhere and the relief I feel from that simple realization floods through my veins.

“I love you, Molly,” I whisper. “I love you.”

A wave of energy tingles through my fingertips and a pulse of power is pulled into my body through my palms. My mind clears with the realization of what has really happened to me. I’m still human, and my love for her proves it. I’m the f*cking hero here. But not just any kind of hero. I’m a superhero.

The gun off to my right snaps into my palm and before the sickness can overtake me again my finger is on the trigger and I squeeze. The bullets scream out of the barrel and hit their target.

The Blue Boar’s skull shatters—

Eighteen thirty-three and sixteen seconds—

—his body falls.

I look Molly in the eyes as her trigger finger squeezes, pressing the gun against my head.

“You know how I know you won’t kill me, gun girl?” I croak out as loud as I can over the destruction happening around me.

Her grimace fails for a moment. Her chest rises and falls, and her breath quickens as her heart rate speeds up. But her trigger finger relaxes.

“Because number one, you’re too sweet and good to hurt people, Molly. Number two, you fell in love with me seventeen years ago when I made you mine. And number three, you’re the hero in this story, gun girl. Not me.”

She blinks. Then again.

Thomas, like the rest of us, is wearing a vest, so he’s picked himself up after being shot in the chest and walks over to Case, who is holding his bloody shoulder, his arm limp by his side. “We gotta go,” he says, pointing a gun at Molly’s head.

He’s always been immune, I realize. He’s always been immune to the inhibitor and he could’ve killed any of us at any time.

“Are you listing me, bike boy?” Molly yells over the womp, womp, womp of the ’copter hovering above. “Because I never pegged you for a lister.”

I smile at Thomas and wait for him to stop aiming at my Omega before I start laughing. I drag Molly down to my chest and kiss her head over and over and over.

Thomas attaches Case to one of the grappling hooks in the middle of the room and sends him flying up towards the ’copter.

Eighteen thirty-three and thirty-nine seconds.