Blood on the Asphalt biker
It showed flashes of my life: the smell of grease in the garage, the first time I felt the wind hit my face on a bike, and the terrifying, beautiful moment I realized I was in love with the President of the Iron Wolves.
"The Board is coming, Mia," Dax said, vaulting on behind me. He didn't have to look back to know. The white void behind us was beginning to bleed a bruised, oily purple.
Thorne had merged his consciousness with the Aegis Central Core. He wasn't just a man anymore; he was a Systemic Predator. Out of the purple haze emerged the final hunters the Archangels. They were massive, winged constructs of chrome and glass, their engines sounding like the screams of a dying star.