Fireteam Delta J. Halpin (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖

“So, anyone want to fill me in on what just happened?” Summers looked to the others.

They were all looking at him with a mixture of concern and worry.

“Are you serious right now?” Cortez watched him.

“You killed a lot of people,” Nowak stated. “Like, a lot.”

“All right . . .” That wasn’t news to Summers. He remembered fighting . . . something.

“No, let me be clear.” Nowak reached over to the table in front of them before picking up a small butter knife. He looked Summers dead in the eye. “You were the most terrifying fucking thing I have ever seen in my life.”

“It was awesome,” Cortez agreed.

Summers looked at the others. They all had their eyes glued to him, expressions of worry on their faces.

“Is that why you’re all looking at me like that?”

“You might want to look in a mirror.” Nowak played with the knife for a moment before offering it to Summers.

He took the handle and looked at his own reflection in the blade.

His eyes were black, as was most of his mouth.

“Fuck me.” Summers kept looking at himself from every angle. “This will wear off, right?” He angled the knife toward the side of his head. His ears were as long as an elf’s now. “What the fuck . . . ?”

Summers only just noticed that his clothes were covered in blood. His skin, however, was clean. He looked at his hands; they were spotless. Every instinct he had told him that didn’t add up.

“The good news is you did the job.” Nowak tried to grab Summers’ attention. “Between you, the refugees, and everyone on the wall, we figure they lost around 1500 men.”

Summers stopped panicking long enough for that to set in.

“They still have enough to take us out.”

“Nobody commits to an attack like that in real life,” Nowak explained. “They just had nearly a third of their force wiped out on their first real push. There’s a good chance they’ll just cut their losses.”

“For what it’s worth, I saw Nisha speak to some of the city’s . . . nobility? The fact I could tell an elf was relieved should say everything about what they’re thinking.”

Summers considered that.

“Don’t suppose any of you know what a ‘payrst’ is?” Summers held his head in his hands. “‘Pat’ gave me his title when we started this whole training thing. I didn’t think it was anything important.”

“He gave you a title,” Nowak retorted, “in a world where only important people have titles, and you didn’t think it was important.”

“To be fair, I’ve been a little fucking distracted.” Summers gestured to himself.

“I have no idea, but if his dad’s on the council, I’m going to bet it means ‘heir.’”

“Or ‘prince,’” Logan added.

Summers repressed a groan and took another look at his eyes. He couldn’t even see the iris.

Hell, with how he looked like right now, he could almost understand why Rhodes was after his blood. Not that he didn’t look forward to snapping the bastard’s neck for the trouble.

Then he realized they had another problem.

“You said I killed people, right? Everyone saw that?” Summers looked to the others. They each nodded, if a bit hesitantly. “So why the hell does Rhodes think he can fight me?”

Nowak cleared his throat, looking more than a little worried.

“My guess is, he’ll be using a gun.”

“Oh.”

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Summers lay on the floor as Nowak peeled back the bandage on his side. He winced more out of habit than any actual pain.

“Was it bad?” Summers looked at the wound.

“Didn’t look deep,” Nowak answered.

The wound hadn’t been bleeding, or doing much of anything, really. Summers had assumed that since he wasn’t staining the carpet, it was fine, but Nowak had insisted on taking a look.

“You’re not going to believe this.” Nowak spoke from his side. “But, uh . . . you’re completely fine.”

Summers blinked before looking down at his side. Nothing but smooth skin marred by a thin, pale scar.

“Huh.”

At least this new look had perks.

He heard the door open, and turned just in time to see Nisha, Synel, and Asle in the doorway.

“You have guests . . .”

Nisha bowed, but the other two had frozen in place, shoulders tense.

His friends had watched him fight and had seen him afterward. They’d actively helped save him, so they knew what to expect.

Summers tried not to let the hurt show on his face. Instead, he got to his feet, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“It’s okay,” he managed to get out, in the most nonthreatening voice he could manage. “I’m still getting used to it myself.”

They said nothing at first. Then Asle took a step forward, moving up to Summers and wrapping her arms around his waist. He looked down to see her normally placid face wearing an expression that was somewhere between anger and worry as she squeezed with what he could only assume was everything she had. Synel and Nisha both suddenly found the décor of the room to be very interesting.

It took Summers a moment before it registered.

He laid a hand on Asle’s head, smiling down at her.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

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“You’ve accepted the trial, so there’s nothing we can do for you.” Synel spoke solemnly, as though she was giving him a death sentence. “I’m sorry.”

Synel sat across from him on the couch. Asle sat between Logan and Cortez. She spoke quietly with the others while Synel got over her initial apprehension. For what it was worth, the woman had done so quicker than Summers would have expected.

“He can use any weapon at his disposal. Any he owns, or any that would be lent to him,” she continued. “If he decides to hold the