Rulf had just started to lean into a sharp turn when the world around us exploded with the screech of metal. A huge garbage truck, flying out of an alleyway like a battering ram, slammed into the side of our car at full speed.

  The impact was of such force that the armored sedan was tossed into the air. We flipped several times before coming to a rest on the roof amidst shards of glass and the wail of sirens.

  "Motherfucker..." I wheezed, trying to shake off the numbness. "Rulf! Are you okay?!"

  "My lady... everything is fine," the driver's muffled voice came from under a deflated airbag. "Grab Arkgrim and run! Right now!"

  "Ow, crap... my head is splitting..." Arkgrim muttered somewhere next to me.

  I didn't wait. With a kick, I knocked out the warped door and, grabbing Arkgrim by the arm, literally hurled him out of the cabin onto the cold asphalt.

  "HEY! Easy there!" he protested, but immediately fell silent.

  We were already surrounded. Dozens of people were stepping out of the black cars blocking the street. Professionals. Wearing masks, weapons drawn.

  Arkgrim jerked to his feet, surveying the ring of enemies.

  "WHAT DO ALL OF YOU WANT FROM ME?!" he yelled, and for the first time, genuine anger cut through his voice.

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  "Quiet..." I whispered.

  "We only need you," someone from the crowd said in a cold, emotionless voice.

  Everything happened in a fraction of a second. The sharp cracks of pistol shots shattered the silence. Arkgrim jerked, his eyes widened in shock, and he fell heavily to his knees, then collapsed onto his side. The asphalt instantly began to dye a thick crimson color.

  "No..." confusion rippled through the crowd of attackers. "It's not him. A mistake. We're leaving! Now!"

  They vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind only the smell of gunpowder and a silence broken only by the hissing of the overturned car.

  I rushed over to him.

  "ARKGRIM!"

  He was lying in a pool of his own blood. Three bullets in his stomach. A fourth—right in the heart. He began to cough convulsively, and a scarlet trickle flowed from his mouth.

  "NO, NO, NO! DON'T DIE! WAIT!" I screamed, feeling everything inside me plummet with terror.

  I scooped him up into my arms. He was so light... too light for someone who had just been arguing with me about pizza. I dashed toward the nearest hospital I had seen around the corner. I could feel his body going limp, how he stopped moving.

  On the run, I caught a glimpse of his bracelet. The pulse numbers were dropping mercilessly: 50... 40...

  "HOLD ON! DON'T YOU DARE!"

  I ran with inconceivable speed. I squeezed everything I could out of myself—the synchronization jumped to 52%. My muscles burned, the armor under my jacket pulsed in time with my frantic heart.

  I literally shattered the entrance doors of the hospital, flying into the emergency room.

  "EMERGENCY! HELP HIM!"

  The medics immediately rolled up a gurney. Arkgrim was snatched from my arms and disappeared behind the double doors of the operating room.

  I was left standing in the middle of the hall. I looked down at my hands. They were completely covered in his blood. Warm, so... human. My palms were trembling so badly that I couldn't clench them into fists.

  The words of those killers echoed in my head: "It's not him."