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Scorses were human bartering locations. However, they also sold black market shit, such as drugs, guns, and ammo, as well as prostitutes. The vile trade of human trafficking functioned in networks that made coordinated stops through designated scorses. The stops were random, making it difficult to predict when the trade would pass through one at a given time. The fear of getting captured and put into slavery was another element of the world’s reality that kept many humans living in groups underground. The leaders of these trafficking rings were ruthless, and they instilled more fear and control into their race than our own. Even the scorse owners had to bow to their whims or risk death—or worse, risk their family’s freedom.

“Maybe I’d behave if I knew what the endgame was,” I snapped. “But instead, I’m stuck with the psychopath who killed…” I choked on the rest of that statement. “Withyou, going to human hangouts while I’m being hunted by the Royal Domain. My powers are suppressed, and I’m supposed to just tag along with no questions?”

Griffin cleared his throat and seemed to weigh whether to divulge any information. “Why are you being hunted?” If I didn’t know better, I would have thought there was a note of softness to his tone.

“Because I failed to killyou.” I kept my gaze glued to the shadowed line of trees ahead of me, refusing to look at him.

A quiet chuckle escaped him as he shook his head, unamused. “Of course, he’d kill his own daughter. Once you became a liability, you were to be terminated. You’re too powerful to keep alive, so that makes you a threat now. Nothing else.” He sighed and met my eyes with his icy blues. “So, tell me. Who’sreallythe psychopath, Gray?”

Ididn’t respond. My nose stung, and my face flushed as my eyes threatened tears. All the wounds from my father’s mistreatment rose to the surface. I ground my teeth to fight it off.

Never show weakness. Especially in front of Griffin, even if he’d made a point.

Night had fallen, and the nocturnal creatures were out to claim the land. An owl hooted in the distance, calling for its prey as I stared at the abandoned home.

Vines and foliage devoured the structure. The windows were knocked out, and jagged shards of glass formed mini daggers along the sills, daring anyone to enter.

At one time, this was a nice, middle-class home that sat on several acres of property. A pang of sadness stung my chest at the sight of a tire swing hanging on a beautiful oak branch. Moonlight glinted off metal in the corner of my eye. In the tall grass by the porch sat a small, rusted, tricycle abandoned by a child.

I pictured three children of various ages. The parents were probably the doting type, always wanting to capture every moment of their children’s childhood—every smile, laugh, and accomplishment.

A heaviness in my heart took root as deep as the oak tree’s. It was a fantasy I’d always longed for. I’d always believed that if only I could make my father proud…

“We should be safe here for the night,” Griffin said, breaking me from my spiraling thoughts. “At dawn, we’ll leave for the scorse.” His voice was nearly a whisper, but it still shattered the woeful quietude of what once was.

I nodded and walked up the brick steps before reaching the remnants of the front door, Griffin trailing close behind. The door hung from itshinges awkwardly, indicating the home had been raided. I wrestled it aside to make a large enough gap to squeeze through.

Despite the darkness, we could see overturned couches scattered across the living room alongside the dusty cotton from their innards. Shredded papers, books, and magazines littered the floors, and wooden tables were split in half.

I took careful steps in pursuit of the stairs, avoiding shards of glass or any of the belongings strewn across the floor. It felt disrespectful. I felt somehow responsible, even though this was Griffin’s doing.

Perhaps I was guilty by association.

I headed for the room at the end of the upstairs hallway in the hopes that it was the main bedroom. The last thing I wanted was to sleep in a child’s room with its ghost haunting me in my sleep, begging for answers.

With a light shove of the door, I froze at the sight that awaited me in the bedroom. Cast in the silver glow of the moon’s light, a skeleton lay crumpled on the floor beside the bed. The white carpet around him was stained brown from aged blood. Upon the mattress, another sprawled at a twisted angle. Raided in their sleep. I presumed the husband had tried to protect his family. He’d been too late.

I closed my eyes at the distant horror. I struggled to keep the walls up around my emotions. Too much had happened, and I hadn’t had a chance to truly process it all. I was barely keeping it together, but this was the first moment I’d had to myself since I’d encountered Dash, and the cracks in the dam were threatening to unleash the onslaught of my emotional suppression.

I took a deep breath, following it with a shaky exhale. On the farthest side of the room, a large walk-in closet opened into the darkness. I trudged past two shattered glass balcony doors beside the bed. Goosebumps skittered along my flesh at the cool breeze wafting through them. I inhaled again, breathing in the scent of pine and decaying brush that infiltrated the room.

In the spacious closet, the couple’s belongings lay ransacked on the floor and shelves. I dropped my duffel and used it as a pillow to curl up on the carpeted floor of the bedroom. At last, I allowed my mind to sift throughrecent events. The aftermath of everything finally began to settle, which granted me the chance to ponder Griffin’s motives—and how I’d kill him.

Because I would kill him, no matter the cost.

Images of all the disheveled humans at the speakeasy crossed my mind. Images of Dash…of Scrappy. What type of lives had they lived before Devolution Day? What all had they lost?Whohad they lost? More grief for people I’d never known hurt my heart as I lay in the cold, dark closet. I sniffed as hot tears slid down my cheeks before the cool air chilled them, causing me to shiver.

As I drifted into a restless sleep, I wondered how many more innocents would have to die before the world could be set right again.

Chapter 19

Gray

Muttering voices roused me from sleep. Father frequently had visitors come and go at all hours, so it wasn’t unusual to be awoken by strangers. With a groan of annoyance, I rolled over, hoping to slip back into my slumber. But the bed was all wrong. It was stiff and cold instead of lush and warm. A wintry bite chilled the room, which also wasn’t right.

Through the sleep-hazed fog, the voices continued to rise, sending a jolt of alarm through my body that had me jumping to my feet. Reality crashed into me as I took in the deserted room with the decaying corpses lying mere feet away.

The voices down the hall startled me into action, and I cursed the fact that Griffin still had my weapons. If there were intruders, I couldn’t allow them to catch me off-guard. I contemplated removing my bracelet, but I didn’t want to risk drawing Father’s attention. As I approached the decomposed skeletons, I chose to make do with what was available, no matter how wrong it felt.