From behind them comes the gnashing of rotting fangs. Ghosts.

They don’t target me, but turn their attention on the Strikers who have come with us on the mission. I narrow my eyes, bare my teeth, and hurtle into them.

Near the end of the train tracks, an explosion rocks the earth.

The blast is so powerful that I feel the heat scalding my back. One of Adena’s bombs. I guess they didn’t catch all of them.

Screams erupt from the gate, where the patrol has been thrown back. Flames roar against the entrance’s frame. Silhouetted against the chaos is Adena herself, running alongside Tomm and Pira as they draw near to the train car of prisoners. I glimpse a flash of Aramin’s uniform darting through the grass.

Knives are in my hands, cutting through skin and flesh before I am even aware of my own attack. I spin through soldiers and Ghosts alike in a whirlwind of blood. The blades of my wings slice through the air until they strike bodies. I wince at each impact, but the pain fuels me now, and the threat of death pushes me to keep moving.

Some of the Ghosts are newly formed. They look more human than the others, their forms smaller but their rage fresh, their bodies flush with strength from the intense agony of breaking down. I grit my teeth, hating the look of them. It’s like looking at a person who is no longer a person. Like watching the soul of your sister rot before your eyes.

Soldiers are pouring toward us from every direction now. There are far too many of them for us to face. They seem not only to know that we would stage this attack, but that I would be among them.

We have lost this battle. The others have to get out of here.

I push off from the ground and charge into a patrol of soldiers heading for the others. A bullet hits my shoulder and rockets me backward. I grimace and look in the direction of my attacker. It’s Caitoman himself. His hit can’t penetrate the steel under my skin, but it leaves a small wound anyway. I whirl to focus on him.

Far at the other end of the train, I see Jeran sliding the train car door open and slicing through the ropes of the first prisoner he sees.

I raise my voice at him. “Jeran!” I scream. “Retreat! Retreat!”

Jeran’s eyes flicker toward me, but his jaw is set as he ignores me and goes back to freeing the prisoners. I curse. Damn bleeding hearts.

Caitoman shoots at me again. I dodge a second time, but now I can tell that they are less interested in the prisoners and more determined to keep me from escaping. I am the real prize. I narrow my eyes and dart into the crowd of soldiers, cutting anyone down in my path. But there are so many of them now.

“Strikers!” I shout again and again, blindly. “Retreat!”