I returned to watching the battle, a cold lump settling in my gut. Talon was still holding back. I didn’t know how many more waves of dragons were coming, but I did know they weren’t done, not by a long shot.

I had the sinking feeling that they were just getting started.

Chapter 45: DANTE

DANTE

“Losing more vessels, sir,” said a human, turning to look at me with wide eyes. “Nearly all of Alpha has been killed, and Bravo is at half-strength.”

“The building is holding, sir,” said someone else. “It must have fire-resistant walls. Our forces can’t burn it down.”

I smiled coldly. Well, St. George. You’re putting up as big a fight as I thought you would. How long can you hold out? I wonder. Very well. If the rats won’t be burned out, we’ll go in after them.

“Send in flight Charlie,” I ordered, “and have them concentrate all physical efforts into getting into that bunker. I don’t care what it takes.” I narrowed my eyes at the stubborn building on the screen and clenched a fist. “Tear it down!”

Chapter 46: GARRET

GARRET

This was endless.

I watched yet another wave come in, this one even bigger than the last, dragons descending from the air in a swarm. Our forces were dwindling. The machine gunners were all dead, and I hadn’t heard a sniper report in a long time. And yet, the dragons kept coming, a relentless, never-ending hoard. Maybe Talon did have an infinite supply of them, and they would continue to attack until they had slaughtered every last soldier in the chapterhouse.

“They’ve stopped trying to burn down the armory at least,” one of the men growled beside me. “What the hell are they doing now?”

I didn’t answer, watching as the new swarm of dragons dropped from the air, rushed the armory walls and began tearing at them viciously. Inside, soldiers stuck their guns through the windows and fired on their attackers, but there were too many dragons and too few places to fire from. Bricks began crumbling and falling away as the clones’ relentless assault continued.

But they were on the ground now. A massive group of them, all in one spot. I looked at my team, saw the same realization in their eyes and nodded. It was time; we would never get a better shot.

Raising the RPG to my shoulder, I carefully aimed the rocket through the window, at the cluster of writhing, squirming wings and tails. Beside me, the others did the same—five lethal high-powered grenades, going right into the heart of the enemy forces.

“Ready,” I muttered, curling my finger around the trigger. “Aim.” I paused for a heartbeat, for that moment when my body was perfectly, absolutely still, then released the breath I was holding. “Fire!”