Battle Angel (Immortal City 3)

The pilot’s blood went cold.

Numbly, silently, Tom opened it. He could have predicted what it would say, but he never would have guessed how short it would be.

I’m sorry.—M

In shock, the pilot let the paper slip out of his hand and watched it drift slowly down to his feet. Everyone was silent. Tom just stared at the paper resting between his feet.

Suddenly he made a quick move to break past the crewmen waiting to escort him off the carrier, but they quickly cut him off and grabbed his arms, stopping his progress.

“No! No! No!” Tom struggled, his teeth grinding, spit running off his lip as he used every ounce of strength to escape.

“Lieutenant, calm down! Calm down or we’ll have to restrain you!”

Tom swung at one of the MPs, and before he knew it, three of them had him pinned to the ground.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is an executive order. It doesn’t matter where the lieutenant commander is—we can’t wait for her. We have no time. She will have to meet you there.”

One of the MPs held him as the other bound his wrists together with a plastic tie.

“This is just until we get you there. It’s our ass if we lose you,” he said. “I apologize, sir.”

“Maddy . . .” His eyes were hollow as the MPs led him onto the helicopter.

The crewmen on board gave a thumbs-up, and the helicopter began rising off the flight deck.

Tom rested his head against the window and looked blankly out the scuffed glass from inside the chopper. His face was pale, like a specter of himself. Powerful gusts from the rotors of the helicopter and the crosswind off the ocean whipped his flight suit back and forth, but he didn’t even blink.

They began their journey to safety. Without Maddy.

• • •

“Lieutenant, I’m sorry we had to use force back there,” an MP said. “But orders are orders. You understand, don’t you?”

Tom didn’t reply. He just kept staring out the window.

Suddenly, he thought he caught a glimpse of a purple glow amid the clouds below. Maddy’s wings? He shifted to get a better look.

On second glance, he saw nothing. His eyes were just playing tricks on him.

In the distance, toward Angel City, Tom could see the battle unfolding. The demons were flying around to avoid heavy fire, and flashes of artillery and bombs lit the darkened, cloud-canopied sky. He could see that the battle was moving farther into Angel City proper. The Dark Angels had broken through the frontline defenses along the beach. Along the normally glamorous, palm-lined Wilshire Boulevard, tanks were firing as demons assaulted the military positions. Their rounds flew through the alleys between the shiny, glass-skinned Angel office buildings. It was bedlam. Destruction was moving slowly toward the heart of Angel City. Judgment had come for the Immortal City. Tom watched helplessly as the helicopter took him farther and farther away. Farther from the battle, and from Maddy.

Just then, Tom saw a battalion of Battle Angels moving forward in the sky against a contingent of demons. They all seemed to be moving as one chaotic group of good versus evil toward the center of Angel City. Jackson Godspeed would be there.

And Tom knew that’s where Maddy would be going, too.

He realized that it didn’t matter that where Jackson was she would be going, too. He realized that he loved her more than anyone he’d ever loved before, far deeper than any other he’d ever known. He would do anything to keep her alive. Even give his life for her, if it came to that.

Tom continued to watch out the window but kept his guards in his peripheral vision. They were engrossed in the spectacle outside, the ongoing battle, not paying attention to him.

Tom hadn’t endured months of Special Forces training for nothing. In one clean movement he leaned forward and jumped, swinging his bound arms out in front of him.

The MP didn’t have time to

think before Tom’s elbow was bloodying his face, before Tom managed to pull his pistol out of the holster and train it on the other MPs. They put their hands up. He had them.

“Hell,” one of the MPs said, spitting on the ground.

“Cut this,” Tom said to the MP with the bloody nose motioning to the plastic wrist ties on his wrists. He trained the barrel of the pistol on the MP’s temple. “Just don’t make a quick movement with the knife. I’m allergic to knives. I’m liable to sneeze and I might pull a trigger.”