Mason yelled, "Stop playing dead and get up!" His subordinate was rolling on the floor, seemingly in intense pain. He lifted a trembling finger to his chest. Kneeling, Mason saw a long, silver needle impaled there, still vibrating. They'd been ambushed!

"Who did this? Show yourself!" Mason barked, rising to his feet. Myra, cradling the heavily injured Dexter, was shocked. "Did Kayla come back? Did she get help?" she wondered.

One of Mason's men pointed. "Boss, someone's there!"

A shadowy figure emerged from the end of Skyway Street. Slender, in a black jacket and hood, their face masked, their identity was impossible to discern. Only their eyes were visible, their gaze intense.

"Is that a woman?" Mason narrowed his eyes, then a mocking smile spread across his face. He raised his hand. "Bring her to me!"

The remaining twenty of his men instantly surrounded the figure. Felicia's face was hidden, only her eyes visible. She glanced emotionlessly at the unconscious Dexter and the sobbing Myra.

Felicia's combat skills were mediocre, but she always carried medicinal powder. As Mason's men attacked, she threw spheres of the powder, causing a burning sensation on contact. She used the distraction to knock them down. The floor was soon littered with men crying out in pain.

Mason, anxious, swung his mace at Felicia. She reacted swiftly. She’d spent four years in prison, where she’d learned self-defense and close combat, developing heightened alertness and reaction time—skills honed in the very prison she'd been sent to because of Myra and Dexter. The irony wasn't lost on her.

Suddenly, Myra yelled, "Behind you!" Two attackers ambushed Felicia simultaneously. She quickly dispatched one, threw a powder sphere at the other, and then saw Mason charging toward Myra—to take her hostage.