I guess we’ll find out.

    Determined, I hide behind one of the four corners of the boxing ring and step out of my Shell. As stealthily as possible, I climb up to the ropes. I hold my breath.

    If anyone walks around the corner, they’ll see my Shell, and my efforts will be moot.

    Chewing on my bottom lip, I step into one of the spectators—a pretty blonde—to use her as a shield. I don’t treat her as a Shell and attempt to anchor because I don’t want to control her movements.

    Anchoring to a human is called Possession, and it’s against Troikan law.

    I can almost feel Levi’s uncertainty pulse along the Grid. He is at the Eye with Kayla, the two watching my process in real time. My protectors.

    Killian stiffens. He sniffs the air as his gaze roves over the entire room. Does he sense me? Is he that aware of me?

    I melt a little.

    Javier uses Killian’s distraction to his advantage and punches. Target: Killian’s jaw. My guy stumbles back.

    When he steadies, he pops the bones of his Shell into place. “Good job.”

    “Again.” Javier hops from one foot to the other, his eyes wild, glittering.

    “You’re too amped. We’re taking a break.” He unwinds the tape from his gloves, his gaze rescanning the room...those blue-gold eyes slide over the blonde only to zoom back and narrow.

    Does he see me peeking out underneath her skin? I gulp.

    I think the blonde frowns at him—or smiles, I can’t tell which. He blinks, as if confused.

    No, he doesn’t see me...exactly. Good. That’s good.

    Javier removes his gloves. “I said again.” He punches Killian bare-knuckled.

    Killian bounces on the ropes. I swallow a snarl of rage and a grunt of concern.

    Calm, steady. He’s in a Shell. He’s fine.

    With a scowl, Killian jumps up. “The first, I let you have. This one? Not so much.” He slams a bare fist into Javier’s smiling face. The human whips to the side, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

    Javier wipes the drops away before laughing. “More.”

    Killian gives him more, punch, punch, punching—every strike focused and contained, delivered for maximum impact—until the human is sprawled across the mat, unable to stand but still smiling.

    “Now it’s break time,” Javier says between panting breaths, crimson smeared over his teeth.

    I grimace. Penumbra hasn’t had such a sinister effect on Dior and I wonder if personality dictates severity.

    The building shakes, and I stiffen. Either a battle has kicked off outside, or someone just erected a Buckler.

    A second later, four MLs rush into the room—two in Shells, two in spirit—each holding a weapon. Got my answer. A Buckler was erected, and it’s Troikan. I feel a sweet pulse of Light.

    Deacon sprints from the shadows and rams into the Shells. The trio slams to the floor, the MLs absorbing the brunt of impact.

    My blonde squeals and dives through the ropes to join the boys, abandoning me. Killian spots me, his narrowed gaze drilling holes in me.

    “Go to the locker room,” he commands Javier. “Do not talk to anyone but me. Do not leave with anyone but me.”

    The younger male clearly isn’t used to taking orders and remains prone; he’s panting but smiling again.

    Gaze never leaving me, Killian throws a hard punch. Javier’s entire body jolts as he’s rendered unconscious.

    The blonde alternates between patting his face and peering up at Killian with a combination of awe and fear.

    I race toward the MLs who are in spirit form and lift my arm, aiming Meredith’s ring.

    Boom, boom!

    The bigger male falls. Without missing a beat, the other guy tosses a dagger at me. I dodge, wishing I had time to aim—too late, we collide, hurtling halfway across the room. I use his neck as an anchor and swing myself around him.

    Upon impact, he’s dazed. Easy to pin. With my knees in his shoulders, I jab the ring into his throat and fire.

    Guilt. Sorrow. I experience both as Lifeblood pours from his motionless body.

    I know he’s past the point of hearing me, but I say, “It didn’t have to be this way.”

    He’s dead and gone, and he won’t Fuse with a newborn human; he won’t enter into the Rest, which is open only to Troikans. That leaves...

    Many Ends?

    Surely I haven’t sent this man...and all the others I’ve killed in battle...to Many Ends. Surely Killian won’t one day find himself in the nightmarish realm.

    I suck air between my clenched teeth, struggling to maintain my composure. Killian...trapped in Many Ends...

    My blood curdles.

    From the corner of my eye, I notice a Myriadian exiting his Shell as he approaches me.

    Dang it! I’ve got to keep my head in the game!

    As I jump up, he swings a Glacier. I bow back, narrowly avoiding injury, and reach for my swords. Straightening, I extend my arms, my body forming a T. He punches me in the stomach, as I expected, and I hunch over, wheezing for breath, at the same time drawing my wrists together to create a pair of makeshift scissors.

    Off with his head.

    My signature move is swift, painless and permanent.

    “I don’t want to hurt anyone else, but I will if I must.” I spin as I speak, addressing the entire room.

    I’m ignored. Six other MLs are here, and one of them is Sloan, the traitor; they’re working together to take out Deacon. He’s doing his best to neutralize the eager beavers without hurting Sloan, a girl he once crushed on.