The black-clad men and women were used to making split-second decisions, and they’d witnessed both Abbot’s and Cristabel’s inexplicable behavior. One by one, they took one another down until only one was left. Amin, who’d incapacitated multiple of his brethren with quick efficiency, nodded at Alexei to do the same to him. But his eyes changed even as Alexei moved, a strange blankness coming over them.

His weapon was in his hand a heartbeat later.

Rather than pointing it at Alexei, he pointed it at an empath crouched on the grass, her hands over her ears as she whimpered and rocked back and forth. Alexei had only one choice. To put himself in between Amin and the E. He did so without hesitation . . . just as Amin collapsed.

Memory dropped the large rock she’d used to whack the Arrow over the back of the head. Eyes of pure obsidian caught Alexei’s. “It’s hunting us.”

Chapter 31

The Es and the Arrows are a unit.

—Zaira Neve to Ivy Jane Zen

AS ALEXEI MOVED toward the fallen form of Jaya’s beloved Abbot, Memory looked back toward Yuri. He was gone. Nerida must’ve teleported him out before she took herself out of the equation.

Jaya and Alexei were with Abbot.

Heart an agonized knot, Memory jolted herself toward Cordelia. Her movements were no longer those of a clockwork creature after over three weeks of healing, but today’s violence was a hammer beating at her skull.

Dropping down beside Cordelia’s whimpering body, Memory put her arms around her friend’s soft, curvy form and rocked with her. “The darkness is gone,” she reassured her in a firm tone. “It couldn’t hold on to the Arrows. It’s gone.”

Cordelia ducked her head, tucking herself against Memory’s chest, as if Memory were the taller one. Memory kept on rocking her even as she watched Alexei tear off his T-shirt and fold it into a rough pad to press against Abbot’s neck. The bullet had hit the side of that neck just above his jacket collar; blood gushed, and the only other teleporter in the compound was down, as was the medic who’d first responded to Yuri.

Abbot was dying.

And Yuri . . . His mind had just stopped, the telepathic disconnection a bruise inside Memory. Yuri had been meant to return home in an hour to read bedtime stories to Arrow children. They’d be waiting for him. As Jaya waited for her mate to open his eyes. Jaya, who worked with coma patients, but who could also feel the death agonies of the recently deceased.

Oh, God. Alexei didn’t know that. Memory began to release Cordelia and rise. If Abbot died while Jaya was so close, her hands cradling his head in her lap, Memory knew Jaya would go with him, falling into her love’s death.

Flickers around the compound, more Arrows teleporting in. Every muscle in Memory’s body locked, but that horrible and wrong darkness didn’t attempt another takeover. Ice filled the air, the Arrows focused on Alexei.

Memory found her voice on a furious wave of protectiveness. “It wasn’t Alexei! Yuri and Abbot shot themselves so they wouldn’t hurt us! I hit Amin!”

Aden Kai, the leader of the squad, stared directly at her. She’d met him once when he came to speak to the team here. He was quiet, too. But not like Yuri. Aden wasn’t peaceful. Aden was contained like a storm. His friend, Vasic, who’d just teleported out both Abbot and Jaya, was more like Yuri.

“What happened?” Aden hunkered down in front of her, and though he wasn’t a physically imposing man in comparison to Yuri or Alexei, his body built along more slender lines and his muscles lithe, power lived inside him. All the more deadly for not being worn openly.

Cordelia sobbed and tried to bury herself in Memory.

Squeezing her arms tighter around the other E, Memory held Aden’s unreadable dark gaze. “You need to leave. You’re scaring Cordelia.” She looked around. “Your Arrows are scaring everyone.”

No other E in the compound was in any way functional right now. Blank faces and tears, unconscious bodies, whimpering balls, every single trainee aside from Memory had overloaded—not on the bloody violence, she realized all at once, but because of their close links to the Arrows. After weeks of interaction, they were almost all connected on the Honeycomb, Arrows and Es.

Inexplicably, Memory wasn’t linked to Yuri . . . but she could see that his light, it was gone, the connection severed.

“Stay away from the Es,” she ordered Aden in a harsh tone. “Find out who did this.”

Aden rose to meet Alexei, who’d walked toward them—and though the squad’s leader said nothing aloud, his fellow Arrows moved away from the dazed and fallen empaths. Aden’s people had expressionless down pat, but Memory sensed piercing distress beneath their icy faces.

Her heart ached for these soldiers who had already suffered too much pain, but she couldn’t help them, wasn’t that kind of empath. All she could do was hold her brethren and listen as Alexei spoke to Aden.

“Your Arrows put their lives on the line to protect the Es.” Alexei’s eyes glowed amber in the darkness that had fallen while blood spilled into the earth. “Pretty sure they were being aimed like weapons at the Es, but they refused to buckle under. I didn’t see Yuri shoot himself, but I saw Abbot force the gun toward himself.”

“Arrows have the most impenetrable shields in the Net.” Aden’s high cheekbones cut against the olive of his skin. “You’re saying they fell victim to mind control?”

“I’m telling you what I saw.” Alexei didn’t budge an inch, as powerful as Aden but in a far more primal way. “And my point is that they didn’t crumple under the pressure—the Arrows here didn’t lay a single finger on an E except to protect.”

Memory realized he was trying to comfort Aden and his people. Her golden wolf understood what today’s events would do to a squad of assassins who’d allied themselves with the most vulnerable Psy in the Net. Arrows were the wolves of the PsyNet, Alexei had said—but those protective wolves had broken faith and turned on their charges.

“It wasn’t their fault,” Memory said through a thick throat, because that was important, had to be known. “The darkness wanted the Arrows to kill us, but Yuri and Abbot and Amin wouldn’t.”

The tension in Aden’s body didn’t appreciably alter, his features grim.

“Memory?” A husky, broken voice as Cordelia finally lifted her head. Her greenish-brown eyes were blurred, her pupils hugely dilated. “Yuri hurt himself.”

“Yes.”

“Is he . . .”

“I don’t know.” All connections severed, it could have only one meaning, but Memory didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to imagine a world where she’d never again take a walk with her friend. Eyes burning, she brushed Cordelia’s hair back from her sweat-damp forehead. “Do you want to go to your cabin?”

“No.” Cordelia sat back, began to look around. “The other Arrows are sad deep inside.” Her hazy gaze cleared on a wave of intense worry. “We should help.”

This, Memory thought, was courage, was heart. She was so proud of her designation at that moment because Cordelia wasn’t the only E who was making their way to an Arrow. Memory made sure Cordelia was up and moving under her own steam, then went to Alexei.

He was shirtless, his chest covered in a dusting of golden fur and a fine spray of red on his skin: Abbot’s blood. She didn’t protest when he put an arm around her shoulders and maneuvered them so that part of her back rested against the warmth of his chest, his hand splayed over her abdomen.

“It wasn’t your Arrows,” she reiterated to Aden. “We all know that. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did earlier.” In her need to protect Cordelia and the others, she’d struck out at the wrong people, and the shame of it lay heavy on her heart. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” the leader of the squad said. “I needed to know. Our proximity at that time could’ve panicked your peers.”

She swallowed and asked the question she didn’t want to ask. “Yuri and Abbot?”

Alexei tucked her even closer to his chest as Aden’s gaze went to the dark patch of grass where Yuri had fallen. “Abbot’s in surgery. Yuri . . . he breathes, but we must make the decision on whether to pull the life support.”

Memory pressed a hand over her mouth, a sob catching in her throat.

Wrapping his arms around her, Alexei said, “There’s no hope? Judd?”

Memory didn’t understand how a telekinetic former Arrow could help, but Aden obviously did. “He’s in the surgery suite, but it doesn’t appear that there’s anything he can do.” Aden looked to Memory, every line of his body held with such precise control that it hurt her to see—he was in as much pain as his men and women.

“Yuri sustained a significant brain injury,” Aden told her. “He wouldn’t want to live this way. We are his family and must honor his wishes.”

Tears rolling down her face, Memory nodded. “The children . . .”

The tendons on Aden’s neck stood out against his skin. “Yuri breathes,” he repeated.

And Memory knew Aden would put off the final decision until there was no more time and he had to let Yuri go forever. There was nothing Memory could do to help her friend, but she could give Aden and Alexei information on the menace that had tried to steal Yuri’s mind and turn him into a murderer. “You need to know about the intruder.”

Alexei’s breath brushed her temple. “You okay to talk?”

“Yes.” For whatever reason, her shields had held, her mind had held. Perhaps because she was a different kind of E, perhaps because her shields were unique—Sascha had designed them for Memory alone, and Memory had built them from the foundations.

“An unknown power invaded the compound today.” Grief a rock on her chest, she used one hand to wipe away her tears. “I saw it take hold of Abbot, then Cristabel, then Amin.” Frowning, she struggled to articulate what she knew. “Not a vision or telepathy. It’s . . . like when I work with Amara.”