The sun hadn't even thought about rising when the roar of an engine shattered the silence of the shipyard. I was already awake, sitting by Cane’s side, watching the slow, rhythmic pulse of the blue toxin beneath his skin. It was fading, but the cost was visible; he looked thinner, his power dormant as his body fought the poison.
Viper appeared in the doorway of the bunker. He tossed a bundle of heavy fabric at my feet.
"Lose the rags, Princess," he barked.
"You can't ride a beast in a cocktail dress. Put 'em on. We got work to do."
The bundle contained a pair of thick, denim riding pants, a heavy leather jacket with "Silver Moon" embossed subtly on it, and boots that felt like they were made of iron. When I stepped out into the hangar, Viper was standing next to a motorcycle. It was s
