Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
From below, a guard spotted him in the tree and aimed his rifle. Before he could shoot, Zorion whipped a taser arrow and fired. It struck the man’s chest, unleashing a current that made him convulse before he collapsed unconscious to the ground.
Valor was now assisted by the disciples, eliminating the vast guards with fewer than a couple of moves before they were sent flying into the air.
More bullets were fired into the trees, forcing Zorion to move.
He flew from branch to branch while pulling and releasing arrows that targeted vital organs.
The disciples of the Order tore through the smoke and debris of vehicles with silent fury.
They battled without firearms, easily dismantling the rest of the resistance. One took out a guard in a single fluid motion, breaking his arm before delivering a swift strike to the throat.
Another kicked the front of a guard’s knee, making it bend at an unnatural angle before he formed his fingers into a spearhead and stabbed it at the man’s heart. His eyes rolled back before he fell face-first to the ground.
The last of the guards stood back-to-back, rifles aimed at them. Zorion gripped the silver-tipped arrow and shot it at a nearby SUV, which instantly emitted a strong magnetic field.
Their weapons were ripped from their hands and slammed into the side of the SUV with a series of metallic clatters.
The guards were dumbfounded as they stood weaponless.
Valor wasted no time. With his steel-tipped claws, he tore through them with renewed fury, his blows shattering ribs and breaking limbs. His growl was so fierce that Zorion felt it in his own chest.
It was only minutes before the battlefield was clear.
A final vehicle, with its tires smoking, attempted to make a run for it.
Valor broke into a sprint, his boots pounding the asphalt like a battering ram. He launched forward with a guttural roar and hurled a savage front kick to the bumper of the SUV.
The metal crumpled inward, and the vehicle bucked as if it’d collided with a five-ton beast. The impact was so forceful it triggered the airbag, smashing it into the driver’s face, making his head snap back like a rag doll’s.
Smoke hissed from under the hood as Valor went to the driver’s window, slammed his hand straight through it, and wrapped his claws around Woyashi’s throat.
A disciple rushed forward and gripped Valor’s shoulder before he could squeeze.
“Master Valor,” he said in a respectful tone. “Grandmaster Lion has requested Woyashi be brought back alive to the Order’s tribunal.”
After a long, delay, Valor slowly unfurled his claws and allowed the disciples to swarm in and drag Woyashi away.
Zorion dropped and surveyed the wreckage. There were no survivors. He turned the Green Raptor over in his hands. It had been new to him only hours ago, but now it felt like an extension of his arm. His pulse raced and his heart pounded with an intoxicating adrenaline that felt too good to explain.
He heard a muffled sound from one of the vehicles in the middle and nodded to Valor, who ripped the door open so hard it tore off the hinges.
There, bound and gagged, was their objective.
Zelmir’s red-rimmed eyes were wide as he scurried to the far end of the seat.
Valor yanked the duct tape from over his mouth.
“P-please…don’t hurt me.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Zorion said as he cut the ropes from his wrists and ankles.
“We gotta move,” Zorion told him.
Zelmir grabbed a black duffel from the floor and leaped from the vehicle.
Without a word, Valor flanked him and Zelmir as he guided them toward the trees and deeper into the forest for their eleven-mile hike.
“Target secured,” Valor informed their team.
“Exceptional work, masters,” Jo said. “Transport is on the way for Woyashi.”
“Lion and Omega?” Valor questioned.
“Threat is neutralized,” Jo answered.
One battle was won, but the war was far from over.
Chief Aiken Oakley
Valor
The safehouse in Poppenbüttel was unlike any safehouse he’d imagined. It was a five-bedroom sprawling log cabin in the middle of a dense forest.
Thanks to Glitch, it had been reinforced with a firewall, wide-range satellites, and new-age technology, yet it blended seamlessly with the wilderness.
Jo and her team interrogated Zelmir, their voices clipped, demanding, while the young physicist sat with his head in his hands, threading his fingers through his disheveled brown hair.
He was distraught and mumbling incoherent words about needing his family.
Valor tilted his head and observed him harder.
Zelmir was probably a very handsome man when he wasn’t plagued by stress and grief.
His eyes were a more radiant green than his cherished’s, and now that he’d washed the grime and soot from his skin, his complexion had the depth of golden sandstone. His cheeks were peppered with dark freckles.
“If you want my guys to go in and rescue them, you need to tell me more about the secured area of the Ravens facility that only the director can access,” Jo demanded. “You also said you saw more men being trained as assassins. Start there.”