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The fourth book of the #1 New York Times bestselling I Am Number Four series! John Smith—Number Four—thought that things would change once he and Nine reunited with the others. And when they receive a sign from Number Five—the last missing member of the Garde—they know they. Read "The Fall of Five Lorien Legacies Book 4" by Pittacus Lore available from Rakuten I Am Number Four - (Lorien Legacies Book 1) ebook by Pittacus Lore . The Rise of Nine, The Fall of Five, The Revenge of Seven, The Fate of Ten recommendations, corrections and questions so feel free to contact me:) dysfunctional ebook links January 3, ; Kingdom of Ash (Throne of.

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Share This Title: The Fall of Five $ Spend $49 and get FREE shipping on To read e-books on the BookShout App, download it on: iPhone/iPad. review online or download this. Get free access to PDF Ebook The Fall Of Five Lorien Legacies 4 By. Pittacus Lore PDF. Get The Fall Of Five.. THE FALL OF. Paperback · Ebook · Audio Download The Fall of Five is the heartstopping fourth installment in the Lorien Legacies series by Pittacus Lore. I thought things .

I thought things would change when I found the others. We would stop running. We would fight the Mogadorians. And we would win. But I was wrong.

I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Six's Legacy. Fugitive Six. Killing Giants. May The Fugitive. The Guard.

The Navigator. Chasing Ghosts. The Search for Sam. The Forgotten Ones. Up in Smoke.

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The Last Days of Lorien. Five's Betrayal. Five's Legacy. Out of the Ashes. Nine's Legacy. The Fallen Legacies. Return to Paradise. Hunt for the Garde. Last Defense. Legacies Reborn. Into the Fire. Return to Zero. June How to write a great review. The review must be at least 50 characters long. The Fall of Five (Lorien Legacies) (): Pittacus Lore: Books

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Remove FREE. Unavailable for purchase. Continue shopping Checkout Continue shopping. Chi ama i libri sceglie Kobo e inMondadori. Buy the eBook Price: Choose Store. In this series View all Book 4. Book 4. Book 5. Book 6. Book 7. Skip this list. Ratings and Book Reviews 31 star ratings 31 reviews.

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Buy from. Praise for Pittacus Lore: Read more. Share at. More in this Series. I woke up suspended from the ceiling by thick chains. My stomach sank when I realized the cave was still standing at all, that I was being held prisoner—what did that mean about John and Nine?

Had they gotten out? There was no give. I felt desperate and claustrophobic. I was about to cry out when a huge Mogadorian strode into the room. Somehow, his empty black eyes held my gaze. Supreme commander of the Mogadorian Empire, engineer of the Great Expansion, beloved leader. I, on the other hand, started to shake, the chains that bound my wrists clanking together.

I heard a hissing noise from above and looked up to see viscous black goo dribbling down the chain. It was acrid and chemical, like burning plastic. I could swear the sludge was leaving rust marks on the chain as it dribbled down towards me, and soon it was coating my wrists. I was screaming. The pain was excruciating and the goo had a stickiness to it that made it even worse, as if my wrists were covered in scalding tree sap.

An icy numbness flowed through my body and the pain on my wrists was momentarily eased. The paper was now missing, so it seemed like a safe bet that the Mogs had searched me while I was unconscious and confiscated the address.

Hopefully Six would approach with caution. And that was my one badass, heroic moment, because the Mogadorian leader snorted and immediately pulled his staff away from me. The pain in my wrists returned—it was as if the Mogadorian goop was eating right down to my bones. I needed to keep my mouth shut. The questions kept coming. Tell me where. I was delirious at this point. Days later the Mogadorians dragged me out of my cell and handed me over to a pair of guys with buzz cuts and dark suits, and guns holstered beneath their coats.

It makes my blood boil just to think about it, these agents selling out humanity. Even so, the agents were gentler than the Mogadorians, one of them even mumbling an apology as he clasped a pair of manacles over my burned wrists. Then, they pulled a hood over my head, and that was the last I saw of them. I was driven nonstop for at least two days, chained in the back of a van. After that, I was shoved into another cell—this cell, my new home—an entire block in some big base where I was the only prisoner.

I can help John and the other Garde, just like my father was doing before he disappeared. As soon as I do, a layer of dust shakes loose from the ceiling, and a faint rumbling passes through the floor. I look down at my hand in awe.

I squint hard and ball my fist up tight. Even though it feels nuts and a little embarrassing, I punch the mattress again, just to see what happens. Just a soreness in my arms from not using those muscles in days. And maybe a little crazy. This one is much bigger than the first; I can feel it in my very bones. More plaster drifts down from the ceiling.

It coats my face and gets in my mouth, bitter and chalky tasting. Moments later, I hear the muffled drumbeat of gunfire.

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I can distantly hear the sounds of a fight from somewhere deep within the base. The floor shakes again—another explosion. Hell, I never hear anything except the echoing footsteps of the guard bringing me my food. And now this sudden action? What could be happening?

For the first time in—days? It has to be. I stand up and move shakily to the door of my cell. My legs feel like jelly. Even crossing the short distance of my cell to the door is enough to make my head swim. I press my forehead to the cool metal of the bars, waiting for the dizziness to pass. I can feel reverberations of the fight below passing through the metal, growing stronger and more intense.

I have to prove him wrong. I need to make some noise. He looks almost equally surprised to see me. Something not quite right. The slightly too pale skin. The darkness around the edges of his eyes.

I back up farther into my cell, hiding the empty water bucket behind my back. There are deep lines on his face, which is covered by a scruffy growth of beard. My mouth hangs open in disbelief and I take another step back into my cell, startled again, but this time for a different reason. Years have passed, yet underneath the deep crevices I still recognize this man, especially when he smiles at me. Grinning, in fact. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my father would be the one saving me from this place.

My dad squeezes me through the bars. Soldiers pouring into the cell block from below, their boots rattling the gangway as they run up the metal stairs towards us. The Mogadorian pulls my dad away from my cell door. He turns to me, his voice commanding.

Except why would one of the Mogadorians bring my father here? Why would he try to help us? I do as he ordered. The Mogadorian reaches his hands through the bars of my cell, focusing on the wall behind me. I feel something pass through the floor beneath me, like a ripple of energy. Then, with a piercing crack, the wall behind me crumbles. A piece of the ceiling shakes loose, smashing my toilet.

Everything is tilted. Somehow, that Mogadorian just knocked down a wall with his mind. It was almost as if he was using a Legacy.

The door of my cell is cockeyed now, the metal warped and bent. As the Mogadorian pushes my dad towards the door of my cell, he points to the opening in the wall behind me. I cough as some of the dust from the destroyed wall enters my lungs.

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Through the opening in the wall I can see the inner workings of the base; pipes and ventilation shafts, clumps of wiring and insulation. Wrapping my legs around one of the larger pipes, I start shimmying down. But then the adrenaline kicks in and my grip tightens. Escape is so close, I have to push myself. Mogadorian or not, this Adam guy just broke me out of jail and reunited me with my father. I call up to my dad. Shortly after the shock wave comes a metallic rending sound, a sound that can only be the gangway coming apart—I can picture it tearing loose from outside the cells, the whole structure crumbling with it.

But we need to move fast before he brings the place down on top of us. I keep shimmying down. Help me with this. I slip a little when I climb back up, but he reaches down to steady me.

Together, we hook our fingers through the metal grate and yank it loose.

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We stop moving as the metal duct creaks and whines, both of us braced for the whole thing to collapse, but it holds. We can hear screaming and sirens through the walls of the base. The fighting that I heard before has only intensified. You and the Garde all manage to show up at the exact same time? I know it. Sirens blare above the crackling of fire. I can hear footsteps beating across the pavement nearby, humans and Mogadorians shouting emergency orders.

Something big was going down around here— and that could only mean one thing. We stick to the shadows, just in case any guards should peel away from the madness inside.

My dad leads the way, clutching the bent steel grate from the ventilation shaft we climbed out of. My dad points into the darkness, beyond the collapsed wreckage of what used to be a watchtower, into the desert. And, well. My father and I skulking around a government base, escaping from hostile aliens. What the hell else could cause all this?

During our hurried reunion inside the base, he was probably seeing that little kid I was when he first disappeared. From the look on his face—a mixture of sadness and pride—I think he realizes that. I want to do something besides running away. A second later, I can hear two sets of running footsteps approaching. He tumbles to the ground, landing hard on his ugly face.

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The second guard tries to get his weapon up, but my dad is on him. They start wrestling over the blaster; my dad has the advantage of surprise and adrenaline. The Mogadorian is stronger, though, and slams my dad against the wall, the weapon still pinned between them. I hear a rush of breath escape my father. I dash to the first guard before he can collect himself.

I kick him hard in the side of the head, so hard that I can feel my toes immediately swelling up inside my worn-out sneakers. I grab his blaster, spin around, and fire. I correct my aim and shoot again. My dad spits out black ash as the Mogadorian disintegrates in front of him. Not wanting to take any chances, I shoot the Mogadorian lying at my feet.

I watch his body explode in a puff of soot that spreads across the pavement. When I look up, my dad is staring at me with a mix of wonderment and pride.

He picks up the second Mog blaster and peers around the corner again. We need to get moving. Sensing my hesitation, my dad gently grabs on to my shoulder.

Saving them, protecting Earth. He pokes his head around the corner again and then motions for me. I half expect blaster fire to erupt behind us at anytime, but it never comes. I glance over my shoulder at the smoke curling upwards from the base.

I hope the Garde and Adam made it out alive. We drive east through the desert until we cross into Texas. We just met at school and had, uh, some mutual friends. I laugh softly and dad glances over at me. I begin with meeting John at school, jump to the battle on the football field, and finish with our time on the run and my capture. I have tons of questions for my dad, but it actually feels really good to talk.

Our room is on the second floor with a view of the neglected motel pool, filled with equal parts murky brown water, dead leaves and fast food wrappers. Before heading up, we stop back at the car to grab some gear. My dad pulls a backpack out of the trunk and hands it to me. He abandoned the Mogadorian who has somehow developed a Legacy to save me.

I put aside my petty thoughts and try to think rationally about what it all means. The Mogadorians were holding me prisoner. Experimenting on me. A cockroach skitters out of sight beneath the bed when we turn on the light. The place smells like mildew.

Compared to washing myself with ice-cold water from a metal bucket, this place is paradise. My dad sits down on the foot of the bed. I sit next to him and together we stare at our reflections in the smudged hotel mirror.

We make quite the pair—both of us filthy and gaunt from our recent imprisonments. Father and son. To tear out anything useful I might know about the Garde. We found your bunker in the backyard. I pieced some stuff together.

Those nine children, all of them so frightened. It was like a curtain being pulled back revealing a universe of possibility. We had families.