“My name is already written in the histories as a killer of Garde!” the General roars back at me, not even caring about the decimation of his men going on behind him. “If today is the day I die, I will take you with me.”

He charges me, sword stabbing right for my sternum. I hold up my arm, expecting my shield to deploy and deflect the blow. It takes me a split second to remember my wrist is bare, my shield destroyed. The General almost skewers me for my overreliance on my bracelet. I have to spin to the side at the last second and can feel how close I came, his blade tearing through the back of my shirt.

The General’s sword might miss, but his elbow doesn’t. Using his momentum to swing around, he catches me right in the temple. He must be wearing that Mogadorian armor all over his body, because the elbow feels more like a hammer. I stumble to the side, seeing stars. The General slashes at me again, and I just barely manage to lash out with my telekinesis, shoving him backwards. His heels dig up tufts in the grass as he refuses to leave his feet.

Instead of charging back at me, the General levels his sword, another minivortex developing at the blade’s tip. I’m caught out—no shield, no cover—and I know I can’t let that life-draining energy hit me. I brace myself, ready to dive aside.

Before the sword can discharge, the General’s right hand explodes. He roars and drops his blade, holding up his hand to look at the nickel-sized hole through the palm that wasn’t there a second ago.

“Dad says, ‘You’re welcome,’” Sam’s voice chirps in my ear.

I glance over my shoulder to see our van parked on the access road. Malcolm Goode stands next to the driver-side door, using it for cover as he peers through the scope of his rifle.

“Interlopers,” the General growls. Before Malcolm can fire another shot, the General takes off at a sprint, using the trash truck for cover. He’s surprisingly fast considering his bulk and that full suit of armor.

Well, I’d wanted him to run.

I chase after him, thoughts of how he hunted and killed Garde fueling me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a Mog warrior draw a bead on me with his blaster. As he fires, a Chimæra in the shape of a black panther leaps onto his back. The blast sails wide and ends up shearing in half the chair Dr. Anu used in his experiments. I know our goal was to keep this Mog technology in tact, but that doesn’t matter to me now. I’m seeing red. The General—so proud of killing Garde. Killing children.

I’m going to write the last chapter in his precious history. Right now.

As I come around the trash truck, I see the General has made it to the basketball courts and stopped. He beckons me onward, waiting for me at center court. I charge in, ignoring the part of me that knows he’s setting me up for some kind of trap. Whatever it is, it won’t stop me.