Free Golden Son by Pierce Brown Page B

glimpsestheRedunderneathalltheselies.However,thesurprisetheremeansshe’snothereforme.
    She’sherefortheJackal,butwhy?IsshewiththeSons?OrdidMickeyfinallysellhisprizetothis Vebonnagangster?
    “Idon’tdoslaves,”EveysaystotheJackal,pointingtomyObsidiansigils.
    “You’llfindthere’smoretothisonethanmeetstheeye.”
    “ Dominus, I—”
    Hegrabsherhand,twistingherpinkyhorribly.“Shutupanddoasyou’retold,girl.Orwe’lltake what you won’t give.” He flashes a great smile and releases her. She holds her hand, trembling. It doesn’ttakemuchtowoundaPink.
    Istand.“IbelieveI’lltakeitfromhere,myfriend.”
    “I’msureyouwill!”
    Iwavethebodyguardsawaywhotrytoaccompanyme.
    I follow Evey up the handrungs leading to the fourth floor, earning hoots from some of the patrons. My eyes catch one of the holoCans above the bar. Images of a bombing ripple in three dimensions. It looks to be at a café. A Gold café. My eyes widen as the extent of the devastation is shown.WasittheSons?
    Another bombing flashes across a different screen. And another. And another till dozens of bombingsfloodthescreensthroughoutthetavern.Allheadsturntowatch,silenceyawningthrough the vast tavern. Evey’s hand tightens around mine, and I know it was the Sons who committed the bombings.Theysenther.ButwhyLuna?WhytheJackal?Whyhaven’ttheycontactedme?
    “Hurry,” she says as we reach the fifteenth floor, pulling me through the pink lights, past the dancersandhungrypatronstothelastdoorattheendofanarrowcorridor.Ifollowherinsidethe darkroomandimmediatelysmelltheacridtangofscorcheroil.Airshiftsbehindmeasamanina ghostCloakcreepsforward.Ittakesconsiderableefforttoresisttheimpulsetokillhim.
    “He’s one of ours,” Evey snaps. She turns on the light. Six Reds in heavy military tech decloak.
    TheyweardemonHelmswithhigh-gradeoptics.“Callintheskimmer.”
    “He’snotAdriusauAugustus,”oneofthemgrowls.
    “He’sabloodyObsidian.”
    “Strange-looking one.” One of the Reds with the optics jumps back, scorcher priming. “Bone densityisGold!”
    “Stop!”Eveyshouts.“He’safriend.Harmonyhasbeenlookingforhim.”
    NotAresorDancer?
    “Youweren’thereforme,”Isay,eyeingtheirweapons.“Youwerehunting.”
    Sheturnstome.“I’llexplainlater,butwehavetogo.”
    “Whatdidyoudo?”IaskasoneoftheRedspullsoutaplasma-Torchandcutsaholeinthewall, openingtheroomuptothestinkofthecity.Moistairrushesinandlightsfloodtheroomasasmall dropshipdescends,openingitssidehatchesparalleltotheimproviseddoor.
    “Darrow,there’snotime.”
    Igrabher.“Evey,whyareyouhere?”
    Hereyesflashwithtriumph.“AdriusauAugustushasmurderedfifteenofourbrothersandsisters.
    Iwassenttocaptureorkillhim.Ichosethelatter.Intwentyseconds,he’llbeash.”
    IriponeoftheReds’datapadsoffhisarmandprimemyconcealedgravBoots.Eveyshoutsatme.
    Thebootswhinemournfullyastheyliftmeintotheair.Iripbackthewaywecame,rupturingthrough thedoorinsteadofopeningit,flyingdownthehallwaylikeabatoutofhell.Ismashpastadancer, careenovertwoOrangecustomers,andturnarazor-tightrightangledownovertherailingtoward theJackal’stableashefinisheshisliquor.HisStainedmarksme,asdotheGrays.Tooslow.
    Onthescreens,overthebombings,thestaticcracklesandablood-redhelmburns.
    “Reapwhatyousow,” Ares’svoicegrowlsfromadozenspeakers.
    ThetablemeltsundertheJackal’shand.ConsumedbythebombEveyplanted.TheStainedthrows
    theJackalawayfromthetablelikeadollandcurlshistitanicbodyaroundthemushroomingenergy.
    Hismouthmovesinadeathwhisper, “Skirniralfalnjir.”

    9
    THEDARKNESS
    TheenergyblossomsoutwardfromtheStainedliquidtotheeye,evaporatinghisbodyandspreading over the floor like spilled mercury before darkening, slipping back to the origin, sucking men and chairsandbottlestowarditlikeablackholebeforedetonatingwithadeep,nightmareroar.Isnagthe Jackalupbyhisjacketandflythroughthewall,slammingshoulderfirstas,behindus,glass,wood, metal,eardrums,andmenrupture.
    Mybootsfail.Weflyacrossthestreetandslamintothebuildingopposite,crackingconcreteand