“Move,” Kieran commands, already shifting.
The parking lot erupts into violence before I can take another step.
With a sudden, explosive shift, Kieran’s body contorts, his shoulders expanding and claws erupting from his sleeves as he charges the first figure in black who emerges from the darkness between cars. Ryker and Maddox, a wall of muscle, follow closely.
But they’re ready for us.
Three more Architects step out from behind a van, weapons raised. One fires a dart that whistles past my ear. A rifle with illuminated silver bullets.
I backed into Kieran’s car, hand on my belly. Our son kicks hard, a fierce surge of power flooding through me. Golden light flickers at my fingertips before I even consciously call it.
Not him, I think desperately. Not our child.
Kieran roars as he tea
