Birthright

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

(Sorry for the long, long wait! I have a lot going on in my life. Between vacation, being sick, and the increase in workload because it's the last quarter, I've just not been writing at all. I have missed it though and will do my best to deliver chapters. If the writing for this chapter sucks, it's because I'm out of practice and have been feeling disconnected from my writing lately. Thank you for your patience! Your support means the world to me.)

Kray had stopped struggling, not wanting to give the Crimson Gang any reason to kill him on the spot. Alex was a different story. As they dragged her to her feet, she smashed her heel into one of her captors' feet and then knocked her head back into his face. He let go, giving her an opportunity to knee the other guy between the legs.

Kray tripped a third man when he started for her. He fell into the glass coffee table. The sound of shattering glass was swept under the cacophony of noise that erupted in the living room as more captors leaped into the fray, fighting to subdue an inhumanly strong teenage girl.

She moved with years of skill and training, knocking them aside with ease and delivering precise but deadly blows that sent bodies falling. Relentless—but also desperate. He didn't understand why she was fighting when it was clearly over, but he wasn't going to let her go through it alone.

He knocked out a distracted opponent with a cross hook and started for her when heat jolted through his body and turned his legs into rubber. He knew what weapon had been used against him even though he didn't see it. A thermodynamic oscillating gun. His control over his Sen failed him for only four seconds, but it was more than enough time for the captors to kick him to the floor and grab his hands behind his back again.

"What is going on in here?" a deep voice barked in Aldean from somewhere by the door. He had the kind of voice that commanded respect in his allies and cast fear into the hearts of his enemies. He was easily six-foot-seven and built like a truck. He wore a black leather jacket, as though announcing to the world that the scorching heat of the wasteland didn't dare oppose him. This man was clearly the leader.

"This girl is refusing to stay down!" one of them shouted before he let out a yelp when Alex freed one arm and punched him in the eye.

The bearded middle-aged man with the bald head glared around. "What girl? Noodle, I thought you said there was only one person out here."

A teenage boy next to him shuffled forward. He had a head of messy blond hair and a stained bandage over one eye. "That's all I could sense, Captain. I didn't know she was here."

"That's because she's not a Sanser," said the man who had threatened Kray as he walked over to where Alex was being detained. His face was clean-shaven but shredded by scars. Like he'd been . . . tortured. But there was no fear or timidity in his sunken black eyes. Only malice. He grinned as he lifted Alex's face with his dirty fingers. "She's a Meta."

Her hair was in her face, but it didn't hide the haughty look she gave the man. He smacked her across the face. Kray strained to get free, growling, "Leave her alone, you bastard. I'm the one who stole from you."

"But you're not quite as pretty as her," Craters said snidely.

His buddies laughed and called out crude commentary. Their leader stepped into the room and lifted a hand to silence them. His silver eyes, sharp and astute, were on Kray. "You've caused quite a stir, boy. Do you know who we are?"

"The Crimson Gang," he answered.

"And do you know who I am?"

Kray hesitated only a moment before saying a name he'd heard before, "Rousseau."