Chapter 130 - Drake
Drake caught the sphere and sprinted without pausing. Sam ran from him, no doubt trying to get back to Steele. He needed to find her first, but with her extra powers she was faster and stronger. He ran along the cliff, as if the trail were a rim around the stone—a very thin rim near rising lava.
The path curved before him, and Sam darted around a corner, disappearing from view.
He pushed his body to run faster. The heat built around him, warming his feet past comfortable. Another turn and there she was, still running, but closer. He pushed to reach her, but she turned and threw him back with a gust of power.
He hit the ground hard, and rocks tumbled down on him, crushing his arm.
Pain spiraled through his arm and shoulder. The rock pressed harder, as if alive, pushing his arm further, trying to twist and break it, grinding down the skin.
As he struggled to free himself, Sam smiled, waved like a school girl, and ran away giggling.
Even without Sam powering it, the rock, more like a boulder, was impossible for him to move. He pushed and pulled and tugged at his arm, screaming from the pain, clenching his teeth against it, but nothing worked. Without his powers, he was useless. Toby had been wrong, Drake was no superhero.
He needed the drugs, but he'd lost even those. How could he ever think he'd succeed at this? Toby and Sam flashed in his mind. "I'm sorry. I'm just not the man you want me to be."
The memory of another voice flashed in his mind: Father Patrick's. "Can you accept who you are?"
The Father had known something like this would happen; maybe he'd even foreseen it. He'd known Drake would lose the drugs, lose his powers, and still the priest had held to his faith in the man Drake was, and in the man Drake could become—a husband and a father.
He snapped into focus, and refused to wallow in self-pity, letting it drown him once again. His arm, stuck at a terrible angle, bent backwards. He couldn't move it unless he could twist it at an odd angle to dislodge it. There was one way, but....
Crap!
Drake pulled his arm and then immediately pushed. A snap. A scream.
He shivered from the pain as he pulled his dislocated arm through the small space under the rock. Once free, he fetched the sphere, grateful it hadn't fallen off the cliff, and jogged forward clutching his arm.
Sam hadn't made as much progress as he'd expected, or it hadn't taken him as much time as it seemed to free himself, because she was climbing a steep part of the path just ahead of him. When she saw him, she jumped back down, a sharp piece of stone in her hand like a knife. She'd lost her gun in the lava when they fell, but she still had powers.
He considered his options. She knew martial arts, but she wasn't the best at it. He could street fight, but he'd always relied on his super strength, which he didn't have anymore. He tried to reach out with his mind, to connect with the real Sam, but he hit a wall. Still, he pushed mentally, hoping Sam could still hear thoughts, whether under control of Steele or not.
'Sam, please listen. I love you so much. I know I've screwed up past the point of redemption, but I'm here now and forever, for you and our daughter. I'll never let anything stand in the way of being the best father I can be. I'd do anything for either of you, even if that meant letting you go to live a life without me. That won't stop me from being there for Ana, for you, but I realize I can't force you to love me again. Just know that I never stopped loving you. Never. Fight this, Sam. I know you can. Fight him! Don't let him use our child to destroy more lives.'
Real Sam didn't come back. Psycho Steele-Sam still ran things, and she was pissed. Wind blew in all directions, like a tornado, throwing rocks and debris at Drake.
He pushed forward, clutching the sphere, suffering the blows and cuts as he moved closer to her. "Sam, I love you. If I die from this, know that I never blamed you."
He charged her with the sphere as she held the dagger up and readied it to plunge into his gut.
Chapter 131 - Steele
Steele punched Beleth hard in the chest. His fist throbbed in a pleasantly painful way as Beleth fell from the sky.
Steele smiled, relishing the victory as if it were a fine wine to be savored. Finally, he could stand against Beleth and defeat him in hand-to-hand combat without using tricks and mind manipulations to subdue him, though it had been gratifying to see Beleth come crawling when he thought Simmons set up the meeting in the warehouse. How easy it had been to drug and take control of Beleth, but Steele wanted the physical power, too.
Finally, he no longer had to bend to the will of someone bigger and stronger than himself. Women would always fall for the strongest man; they were genetically hardwired that way. Simmons had been no exception, but now Steele was the strongest, and Beleth was nothing. Now she would only ever want him.