They were leaving. That meant they’d got whatever they were after—

Anger surged as he saw the leading warrior carrying something more than his weapons. The key! Nina had escaped with it . . . but now they’d got it back. He looked past the Nephilim. No sign of her. If they had killed her . . .

Even as the terrible thought came, he had already decided they weren’t going any further. He unslung the launcher and swung its handgrip into firing position. From here, he could blast a rocket right through the broken throne room window and kill everyone inside—

Military pragmatism kept his finger off the trigger. The fortress itself was the threat, not whoever was inside its control room. If he killed them, others would take over. He needed to cripple the dragon, and with its shield still shimmering, he couldn’t guarantee that. Not with a single shot. Even though the Type 08 was an anti-armour weapon, the fortress was a hell of a lot bigger than a tank.

He needed something more. But where would he find anything, trapped on top of a car park?

A low, churning rumble gave him the answer.

The abandoned concrete mixer stood not far away, its drum still turning. The truck was relatively short, to let it navigate the car park’s ramps, but it still had four axles. It was carrying a lot of weight . . .

He shouldered the launcher again as he ran to the truck and climbed into the cab. He had driven heavy vehicles during his army training; the controls were standard. Releasing the airbrakes with a hiss, he put the mixer into gear and slowly accelerated, making a turn.

The devastated ruins came into view. He drove towards the parking structure’s ragged edge, getting as close as he dared before slowing. He felt the slabs beneath the wheels shiver, but he needed as much of a run-up as he could get.

A half-turn, and he straightened out and stopped. The fortress was now out of sight below the wall at the end of the deck. He pushed the driver’s door open, then readied himself. Clutch pedal three-quarters down so as not to engage the clutch brake, into gear, then he revved the engine, the big diesel roaring in response.

The power built. He watched the rev counter rise towards the red zone – then released the clutch.

The truck leapt forward. A brief dip on the clutch to keep the engine from stalling as the revs plunged, then he re-engaged. A second lurch, but the diesel held firm. Accelerator hard down until the needle reached the red, up into the next gear, then again—

The wall rushed at him, the fortress coming into sight beyond. He kept going for another few seconds – then leapt from the cab.