"Get down!" Ji-yeon's voice ripped through the foyer at the same time the bolt latched onto the wood. Back in the lobby, Declan Conway's screams filtered through the mess of chaises tumbling to the ground and vases shattering. Thirteen ducked as a blast of concentrated wind zipped through the hole in the door. Grunts and metal clattering on the pavement resounded.

"Go!" Thirteen urged, throwing himself out the door and sprinting at full speed towards the canals. Behind him, footsteps came alive. He gave up listening to pinpoint the number of people. Not when Ji-yeon flew around, knocking batons and their holders to the ground. Brittle branches ripped from their parent trees, smacking the soldiers on the head. Even though they wore visors, they crumpled like logs upon impact. Way to go.

These couldn't be the same troops who chased them through Veyrier. Primeva was a multinational corporation. Of course, they have different units stationed in major cities, or at least in countries where runaways might turn up next. The hours the drive consumed gave The Corrector enough time to narrow down their destination. If Declan Conway ended up silenced after this encounter, it would be clear then. Primeva somehow tracked their online activities, even though they made sure to change devices every now and then.

Thirteen dug the phone from his pocket after he launched straight into the bridges. Gone were the fear of falling over and drowning. There was something greater bearing down on them, and it was realer than ever. He chucked the phone into the water, not looking back to see if it sank to the depths. To get another one, though...

Something dug into his back. A shadow towered over him as he tumbled to the cobblestones. His cheekbone hit solid rock, rattling his brain. A steel grip closed around both his wrists. The bandages dug against his healing wound, shooting more pain up his arm.

Overhead, he looked at the platoon deal with his companions. One soldier sparred with the air, wagging the baton in expert swings as if they saw their opponent. Thermal detectors tend to do that, anyway. Within seconds, Alon rippled back to everyone's sight, pinned to the ground in the same hold caging Thirteen.

A figure crashed onto one of the outdoor umbrellas. Ji-yeon's dark hair stood up to their ends as she slid to the ground, dazed. Scorch marks littered her pale skin, having been shot mid-flight. None of the Geneva troops were able to catch her once she started flying. But these ones...

They were a different breed, surely.

Next, Jocasta and Kevan followed suit. The mind reader held out longer than Thirteen expected him to. Probably because the boy slowly learned to use his ability to twist the mind rather than just read it. Nevertheless, none of them were on par with this platoon. They were quicker, smarter, and knew enough about their abilities to neutralize them.

"Stay down," the soldier hizzed behind Thirteen. The grip tightened, forcing a groan from his lips. "All units, prepare for extermination."

A baton whirred a few meters away. Thirteen glared at the soldier behind that cursed reflective visor. They would not see him beg. Not ever. Let them blast him to dust. He'd take it.

The soldier clicked the trigger. A streak of blue slammed into his chest, throwing the trajectory off-course. Something wooden crumbled behind Thirteen, having received the errant bolt. The soldier in front of him fell backwards, straight into the water. A loud splash echoed in the entire canals.

Confusion spread across the platoon. The one holding Thirteen cursed in a foreign language, looking around to find the perpetrator. Thirteen squirmed, rolling to his side, giving purchase to his legs. He swung inward, his knee hitting his captor's ankle. The soldier stumbled forward, loosening his grip around Thirteen's wrist. The only opening he needed. He yanked one hand free and gripped the soldier's vest. He hauled himself up and drove his knee into the soldier's exposed neck.

Another soldier blocked his way, but instead of shooting, Slate's voice filtered past the impersonal visor. "Go!" she said. "I'll hold them off and follow you if I'm successful. If not..." She shook her head. "If I don't make it, rescue me when you go after Primeva."

Thirteen opened his mouth to blurt a false promise or something ridiculously positive, but Slate whirled to meet another soldier's swing with her baton. Executing most of the moves of the platoon, she disabled her opponent with a quick slash and shot. Did her ability just get an upgrade? Was she now able to imitate even the skills of the person she copied?

No time to think about that. Jocasta kicked a soldier off her, the blades in her hands dripping with bright red blood. She locked gazes with Thirteen and nodded. They retrieved Alon and Kevan from under their captors. Slate open-fired at the soldiers carting Ji-yeon towards a white van parked in the open space. It registered to Thirteen this late—all the tourists in the square and the canals were gone. As if they were purposefully cleared out for the purpose of this mission. Even the ones in Geneva didn't have that much clearance. Primeva was upgrading their tactics the more elusive Thirteen and his companions proved to be.

Jocasta skidded towards the first car she found and rammed her dagger at the side window. A loud alarm ripped across the street. The girl cursed, jabbing the pointed blade into the point of impact again. Cracks webbed in an instant. She tried again. And again. The webs multiplied until the final clap. The window shattered into a thousand shards then.

"Get in!" she yelled at them, and they squeezed into the backseat. Thirteen took shotgun as always. Without a phone, they would have a harder time reaching the tarmac Declan pointed them to. The shards dug against his rear, but he swallowed the discomfort. First, they needed to get out of Venice. Otherwise, Slate's sacrifice would be for nothing.