Rage gives me wings. I fly over the ground in pursuit of the Mystic. I can just see their robes, a deep purple and blue that would blend perfectly into a twilight skyline. They’re moving fast, having obviously already scouted out a quick exit, but I know this faction better than anyone.

I follow for another half a block before I feel like I have a good read on their direction. Then I veer right, cutting down two blocks and scrambling up a porch column to the roof of the building. I pick up speed, easily jumping the gaps between the buildings as I head for the street they should be coming down any moment.

Sure enough, the fucker is pelting in my direction. Their face and hair is hidden beneath a hood, but they don’t bother to look behind them. Fool.

I throw myself off the building as they approach. They look up as my shadow passes over them, but by then it’s too late. I hit them hard enough to drive the breath from my lungs, but who needs to breathe when fury is propelling them? I straddle them, easily dodging a punch, and grab their throat, slamming their head back into the pavement. Once. Twice. On the third time, their arms fall back to the street and lie still.

Not dead. Unconscious.

I keep one hand on their throat and fumble through their robes with the other, searching for… Ah, there it is.

I yank back the hood to find a man with light-brown skin and black hair. He shudders and opens his eyes. Good. I hold up a dart, careful to keep my fingers away from the sharp end. “Is this what you shot my girlfriend with?”

“Fuck off, Amazon.”

“Hmm. Thought you might say that.” I release his throat and grab his arm. It’s a better location, because it will give him time to react instead of knocking him out cold the way he did Shiloh.

Hang on, love.

I jab the dart into his forearm and jump back. Predictably, he doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles at the pack at his waist, pulling out a tiny vial of green liquid and downing it. The man shudders with relief. “You bitch.”

I shift a little farther away, eyeing him. A beat passes, two, three. When he doesn’t keel over and die, I decide he’s actually given himself the antidote instead of taking some other poison. More, the dart should have taken him out by now if it wasn’t counteracted. Good. While he’s still finding his feet, I punch him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Then I make sure he won’t ever get up again.