Page 37

Alexiares

N one of the girls waited.

Without the extra weight, I made my way to Fresno. Three days of pushing it to the max and I was exhausted. Suckerpunch too. He’d even ditched the stupid squid a day and a half back. I kept it in my pack. Would serve as a nice little reward for when this job was done.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, tossing a nod at the man-child manning the gates. He appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen. Fuck if I knew why they put him in charge, but it was to my advantage, so oh well. There was no reason to stop me and that had converged into a pretty simple plan for getting in: walking through the front door. Pretend that I belonged because I did. As far as Fresno was concerned, Monterey Compound remained oblivious to their betrayal. Covert troops weren’t wandering about in an obvious way like they did at San Jose.

Caution was my first priority as I hunted down my prey. The stares of the citizens of Fresno were piercing. They knew who I was. Everyone did here. But more importantly, they knew who I belonged to now, and her wrath was far more terrifying than my previous owner.

The secret of switching sides was known to the residents of this compound. And judging by the way they shrank into shadows or quickly looked away, the unspoken rule was clear: don’t let the Bloodhound find out.

I moved through the narrow streets, keeping my steps measured and my expression neutral. The last thing I needed was to startle Alaric into running. Not yet.

A child darted out of a side alley, her laughter loud and grating as she chased after a loose ball. She got distracted, the smile dripping with drool at the sight of Suckerpunch at my side. The little girl made a beeline for us. Her mother snatched her arm and pulled her back before her gaze flickered up and landed on me. The blood drained from her face. Something flickered in the beady eyes that hardened in recognition. I stared back at her, eyes trained on her as I stepped around them, not breaking my stride.

Fresno was no stranger to monsters. It just so happened that I wasn’t the scariest one here anymore.

Soldiers lingered against the older infrastructure of Fresno—their quadrant of the city. The divide here already existed prior to Covert’s presence. Other side of the tracks kind of thing. Soldiers on one side, civilians on the other. Their families often resided somewhere in between—hence the woman and her child, walking close enough to feel the tension. I could sense her eyes on my back still. Then it clicked. It became clear once I fully took in my surroundings.

No women. Fresno’s military had female soldiers up until now. I allowed myself one quick check over my shoulder. They were gone. Shit .

Ducking into the nearest building, I signaled Suckerpunch to get lost until I emerged. The stench of stale beer and weak moonshine slapped me in the face. A tavern. Fucking fantastic.

It was as decent a hideout as any. Anyone here was already plastered beyond belief. All but the bartender, her exhaustion written in every motion as she slid a cup my way.

“One of two options and this ain’t the worst of it.”

I pulled out one of the coins Salem Territory traded with and pushed it across the table without a word. She took it and made her way down the bar toward the drunkest of the bunch. He rambled on incoherently, and she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, pretending to be intrigued.

“All I’m sayin’, man. Listen, listen.” A drunkard seated beside me slapped his buddy on the shoulder, nearly spilling his drink as he gave him a shake. “They’re already prisoners. Life could be worse than a little jab in the arm to figure out where they belong.” He downed his drink in one long gulp, his face reddening further as he slammed the empty glass onto the counter.

“Yeah, but … you hear what happened to the ones who didn’t pass?” his buddy muttered, his voice low but not low enough. “Got processed, sent to … I don’t even know where. They say the program’s cleaning things up, but …”

The man cut himself off, glancing around as if the walls might be listening.

“From what I hear, Covert Province’s got it pretty nice. Electricity, air conditioning, real order—not this make-believe shit we’ve been playing at for years. ‘Purification,’ they’re callin’ it,” the first man said with a grim chuckle. “Makes you wonder if they’re cleanin’ anything or just takin’ out the trash.”

I dipped my head, hiding my face. The ink lining my body already gave me away, but they were too far gone to notice. Hopefully, they’d chalk the tilt of my head up to me being amused by their drunken rambling.

“Yeah, well. Better hope the people of Fresno’s not next,” the other muttered. “San Jose was just the start. If they got their eyes on here … lot of us aren’t passing a damn purity test.”

The bartender returned, her tray of empty glasses clinking faintly. Torture flickered in her eyes when she glanced at me—a soul silently begging for help. She leaned across the counter, twirling her hair in a halfhearted act of flirting as she whispered, “You get what you needed?”

I gave her a curt nod, my mind already spinning with the weight of what had been revealed.

“You don’t write, you don’t call,” Alaric greeted the second I stepped out of the tavern. His voice carried the kind of fake warmth people used to smooth over tension.

“Are there working power lines I’m unaware of?” I replied, not bothering to turn around as he approached.

He chuckled dryly, swaggering to my side and extending a hand for a shake. “If we did, you’d be the first to know.”

“Is that right?”

Stark white teeth flashed across his forgettable face. “Found your dog.”

“Did you find him, or did Suckerpunch find you because I was ready to talk?” My tone was razor-sharp. We walked and kept his pace. “Anyway, I’m famished. You heading to lunch?”

He waved a hand, the gesture casual, though his eyes flicked to me, gauging my mood. “Funny you should ask. Melissa made some sandwiches back at the house. I’d be grateful if you could join me.”

Melissa. His wife. The same woman who’d once begged us for Henry’s help to deliver their baby via C-section, back when survival meant setting pride aside. Funny how quickly they used what they needed and turned when it suited them.

I offered a faint smirk but said nothing, following him as we crossed a few streets. He stopped in front of a tidy little house and gestured toward the door.

“You’ll have to forgive me. Georgie seems to have an allergy to the fur,” he said apologetically.

I turned to Suckerpunch, resting a hand on his neck. “Stay.” He huffed, but obeyed.

The house was too perfect. They were trying too hard to pretend everything was fine. Neat furniture, pictures on the walls, even the smell of vinegar and mint lingering in the air—it was almost enough to make me laugh. No one lived like this anymore. Not unless they were holding onto scraps of The Before with a death grip.

“Melissa and Georgie are out for the afternoon. It’s just us,” Alaric said as he led me to the kitchen, gesturing for me to sit.

I didn’t move right away, letting my eyes wander around the place. “Nice setup,” I said finally, taking the chair he’d offered. “Real homey.”

He ignored the jab, going to the fridge and pulling out a container. Sandwiches. I watched as he set them on a plate, fussing with napkins with trembling hands. There was no telling where his nerves came from. Could be anything, really. Or it was the fact that he was alone in a room with me. I tended to have that effect on people.

“Alaric,” I said flatly, watching him pour lemonade into glasses.

He finished with the drinks and set them on the table. One in front of me and one for himself. With a sigh, he sat down across from me, then, head bowed, said a quick prayer.

“I know why you’re here,” he mumbled, his fingers twitching against the table’s edge.

“Okay.” I picked up the sandwich, took a bite, and nodded. It was the first non-soupy or dried anything I’d had in who knew how long.

Alaric looked up. Something desperate flickered in his eyes before he straightened up. “It’s about the meeting, isn’t it? In a few days. We heard about it through the grapevine. When the invite didn’t come, I assumed it was an oversight.”

I leaned back, forcing a smirk that cut sharper than it should. “Usually, Reina’s our go-to for things like this,” I said, keeping my tone light. “But given the … current climate, the general thought it might be better to send someone with a different skill set.” I tipped my chin, offering him the wink of a criminal.

He gave a weak chuckle. The kind that barely touches the throat. “Understood. Yes, of course. Our council has been …” He paused, tilting his head side to side, weighing his words. “Torn on how to move forward after our defeat.”

“Defeat,” I repeated, rolling the word off my tongue with a slight shrug.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But we’re here. We’re alive nonetheless.”

I took another bite of the sandwich, raising a brow as I watched Alaric pick at his own food in small, timid bites. His hands still trembled, and the corners of his mouth twitched as though he was trying to hold something back. He was unraveling.

Alaric wasn’t built for this.

He’d been thrown into a leadership role after the untimely death of Fresno’s previous mayor—his older brother. They’d worked closely together for years. People here trusted him to run in the interim as they prepared to hold their first election since they’d been established. Then war erupted, and he was stuck, much like Amaia.

It’d taken me approximately two seconds to write him off as a threat the first time we’d met. Stupid move on my behalf. I’d forgotten how dangerous a weak and desperate mind could be when cornered.

“Then you’d better hope your council gets its act together,” I said, sipping slowly on the bitter lemonade. “I heard Covert dug their claws into San Jose. Breeding programs.”

Alaric stiffened, but quickly waved his hand as if brushing the thought away. “You can’t believe every rumor,” he said, quick to be defensive.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I leaned forward, my gaze steady, patient, the quiet promise of a predator circling right out of reach.

“Oh, but you know something,” I pressed, my voice quiet. Cold.

He hesitated, his fingers twitching against his lap. Alaric released a heavy sigh. Breath hot. “I don’t know details, but I’ve heard … whispers. Something about running more tests on the Pansies. Experimenting on those who they don’t think have what it takes to make it in a world like this and keep the human race propelling on a greater path forward. It’s … terrifying, what they’re capable of. If San Jose were to, I don’t know, be threatened with such options, they have no choice but to do what’s necessary to survive. That’s the name of the game. Right?”

The vein on my forehead pulsed against the skin, a flicker of tension I couldn’t suppress. His words were careful. Deliberate on the justification of it all specifically. The cracks in his composure told the truth he couldn’t bury. Not from me. I no longer had to wrestle with the unnatural twist of guilt I’d felt since stepping foot in this house. Fresno wasn’t turning a blind eye to Covert Province—they were in on it.

Their survival balanced on complicity in the suffering of others.

I took another sip of the lemonade, its sharp bitterness grounding me, masking the bile rising in my throat. “Survival’s a funny thing,” I said, my tone even, the words deliberate. “Everyone’s got their limits. Yours just seem a little … flexible.”

He nodded, mistaking my calm for understanding, a flicker of hope easing the desperation in his eyes. “I have to say there’s a sense of relief in you saying that. They’re reasonable if you know how to bargain. The deal was; provide resources in any way. We offered support in order to protect our own. Food, weapons, records. Whatever they needed, but not our people. It was San Jose or us. I had to choose us. There’s still some on The Council who think we have a chance against Ronan. Against Covert. I think it’s best if we play it safe. Wait things out, see how it goes.”

I shrugged in understanding. “But of course.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, his face an open book of fragile relief. He thought he’d gotten through to me, that his reasoning had earned him a reprieve.

It hadn’t.

The blade was out before he saw it coming. I moved without hesitation. The steel pierced his chest, silencing him mid-breath. His eyes widened, shock frozen in them as his body slumped forward.

“Sorry, Alaric,” I murmured, standing and wiping the blade on his carefully folded napkin. The irony was not lost on me. Laughter found its way to my lips. I couldn’t decide if it made the act more poetic or more bitter. “It was you or us.”

Suckerpunch caught my attention in the kitchen window, peeking in with a soft whine. The sound of the front door opened. I had about thirty-seconds before whoever came through that door made their way to my little mess. Swiping my fingers in the blood dribbling out his mouth, I scribbled Bloodhound into the maple round table, then sprinted through the back door. The distant shouts reached my ears as I slipped into the shadows of the back alley, Suckerpunch back at my heels. The air was cold, heavy with tension and the faint metallic scent of blood that clung to me like a second skin.

The alarm bells rang far too fast. We barely made it out before the gates went on lock down. Not that we’d used them.

I wasn’t an idiot. This was their problem. To find the Bloodhound, you must think like one. If they weren’t going to seal the manholes into the sewage system, then they should’ve at least had someone posted at the access points.

It became clear on the reason why the further we went. I had no doubt Suckerpunch could sniff out a threat, but his presence did nothing to ease the gnawing unease in my gut. Something was off.

The air shifted, thick with the scent of decay. I’d been down enough of these passageways to know when something felt wrong, and this was all wrong. The ground seemed to absorb my footsteps as I made my way deeper into the shadows.

And then I saw them.

A mass grave. No real attempt to hide the fact that bodies were piled high. Discarded like trash. Suckerpunch went on alert as I inched closer. The smell was overpowering. The urge to bring the sandwich and stale beer back up was nearly impossible to shove back down.

My eyes narrowed at the condition of the bodies. They weren’t just dead —they were wrong .

Suckerpunch’s ears perked up, nose twitching as he sniffed the air. Men. Women. And— fuck —children. Elders. They all bore the same mark in the center of their head. The lion of Covert Province. I could think of only one reason to brand a body. To make sure they couldn’t go anywhere else without anyone knowing who they belonged to. Any settlement these people could have gone to if given the chance of freedom, would not be able to deny knowing who they were helping. Property of Ronan Moore. But it wasn’t their fate alone that stood out. No. It was the way they looked. The way they all looked.

I crouched low, inspecting one of the bodies. They were pale, their skin sickly gray, almost … like a Pansie . The texture was different—rougher, more brittle—but the gray was unmistakable. I picked up their forearm, studying the one mark of red that appeared on every single one of them. One bite. Their faces were too human, too normal otherwise, but the skin, it didn’t match the usual waxy cast of death.

Suckerpunch growled low in his throat, a deep warning. I pushed up from the ground, eyes lingering on the bodies a beat longer before signaling him to stay sharp. There were bigger things at play. This war with Ronan was only the beginning.

The first night in San Joaquin passed without incident. Surprising given the increased patrols searching for us in the heat of the night. This was far from my first time dodging law and order, and it wouldn’t be my last. People rarely saw past their own blind spots. Everyone had them. For Fresno’s military, it was their own outpost. We lingered along the outside of the cluster of buildings until dawn broke.

By morning, the boredom set in. Panoche Road was nothing but dry air and cracked pavement, stretching endlessly into nowhere. Suckerpunch padded along beside me, silent except for the occasional huff of annoyance. At least one of us was used to the monotony.

The next day we should have been home bound. Instead, it brought a storm. Black skies churned angrier than the North Sea. Rain came down in torrents. Mud sucked at my boots with every step, and Suckerpunch kept glaring at me with eyes that screamed Really? This is the plan?

“Don’t start,” I muttered.

We reached Hollister, drenched, cold, and ready for a break. A less than impressive slab of an abandoned house seemed promising enough—a roof, four walls. No immediate signs of a corpse. Suckerpunch whined at the command to wait outside. Without the others here, I needed eyes on the outside while I cleared the inside.

The floor creaked upstairs. Distant. Behind a closed door and faint, but there.

Knives in hand, I moved silently up the staircase. The first blade was ready, drawn and hidden against my forearm. The second rested in my palm for a quick throw.

I stood in the hallway surrounded by three doors. One in front and two on the side. I kept still, waiting, letting the hairs on the back of my neck do the sensing. Where my body didn’t want to go, laid fear. That fear was there for a reason. Fear of the unknown that laid behind the door to my left. I threw it open. Two young small, frail bodies were huddled in the corner. They froze the moment they saw me.

“What the hell,” I spat, lowering my knives.

The girls from San Jose. My stance was loose but ready. Never underestimate a wounded animal.

The older one met my gaze with defiance. She exhaled slowly and nudged the brunette, “He can help.”

The brunette hesitated, glancing between us, then nodded.

“No,” I said. “ He can’t. I told you to wait.”

“No, you said if we wanted your help, we had to wait. We didn’t then. We do now,” the brunette replied quietly.

I whistled, and Suckerpunch crashed through the front door, bounding into the room like a wild thing. I holstered my knives, watching as the girls visibly relaxed, softening a bit at the sight of the dog.

“I don’t have the time to help you now,” I muttered, digging through my bag. There wasn’t much left, but I was only a day away from Monterey. I tossed what little food I had left at them. “Here. Stay out of the storm.” I turned to leave.

“Wait,” the oldest reached out, halting me in my steps with the grab of my wrist. “Please. Our magic still hasn’t fully returned and they’re going to take them back soon.”

I noted the way her hand hovered, then met her eyes without a word. She hesitated. I could tell it took everything in her to touch me, to hold this contact, but there was something in her eyes—a quiet desperation.

“Take who where?” I asked, irritation creeping into my tone.

“The other girls. They’re still alive, I think,” the brunette added.

“You think ?” I groaned, running a hand through my overgrown buzz cut. “What happened?”

“They took ‘em. Covert did,” the oldest said, clearing her throat. “They tracked us here to bring us back to San Jose.”

“Yeah, they took the others when we were sleeping. Killed Josephine by accident. Then, when we freaked, they cut our ropes and stuff. Said we weren’t worth the effort and that it would be worse for us out here on our own. That this was our real punishment.”

I closed the gap between us, the squeak in the floor that gave them away the first time, screamed under the weight of my boot. “If this is a trap, I’m not above killing you.”

“If this was a trap, we wouldn’t be asking a serial killer to fall in it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Oh, shit,” the youngest murmured, her eyes wide. She backed into the wall, pressing tight against it as if it would help her disappear.

The older one stepped in front of her, voice calm though the tremble in her lip gave her away. “No. It was a guess, considering you took out three guards on your own to free us. Who are you—” She stopped herself, reconsidering. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t ask questions. Just, please. Help us.”

“This is a border town between the settlements. Monterey border patrol could stop through here as easily as San Jose. Why the hell would they risk chasing you an entire day’s walk out here?”

“We’re… hard to replace,” the brunette winced.

“Talk,” I said, my tone cutting through the air. “Now.”

The oldest introduced herself as Memphis, the other Denver—fake names, but whatever. Apparently they were a part of a caravan in Transient Nation that was attacked. A group known for having extraordinary powers. Hunter’s group. That connection I kept to myself. No rhyme or reason other than gut.

Memphis paused, her eyes darting nervously to Denver before she spoke again. “We were a part of something bigger. A group of … people like us. Some of us were always more, um, unique than the others. Ronan found it fascinating. We were stuck in his camps for months. Used as experiments. I don’t know what he was looking for or if he found it but, one day we were shipped off for the next phase.”

“Breeding,” Denver added with air quotes and the roll of her eyes.

“Covert …” Memphis spoke, her voice breaking slightly. “Covert is using women as breeding stock. Sterilizing some and selecting others based on a mix of things. DNA. Different tests.”

“First, they separated us by the physical stuff. Race, height, body shape. See how smart we are and if we’re able to be ‘molded.’” Denver met Memphis’s eyes, and they grabbed hands. “We’re the ‘lucky’ ones. The ones they deem worthy .”

“They’re being held in the center of town. An old outpost.” Memphis continued. “I think they’re still alive … but we don’t know for sure. If more of them tried to run?—”

“Tell me exactly where this facility is,” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous.

Memphis’s eyes filled with uncertainty. “It’s heavily guarded. If you go in there alone without knowing what you’re walking into, you won’t make it out. We’ve been trying for days.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do,” I snapped.

“Tomorrow morning,” Denver cut in. “After breakfast is a shift change. There is exactly two minutes and forty-three seconds that the back door is left unguarded.”

I gritted my teeth, pacing for a moment. The day was closing in fast and the rain had stopped, the minutes slipping away.

“I have somewhere to be tomorrow. My—” I groaned in frustration. “I have someone counting on my presence, and I can’t afford to let them down. What you’re asking of me, it requires me to risk it all.”

Memphis reached out again then thought better of it. “Please,” she whispered. “If we don’t help them … what’s waiting for them is worse than death.”

There was raw fear in her eyes. It wasn’t simply desperation—it was terror.

I cursed under my breath. “Fine. Get whatever shit you need and let’s go. I need to see the layout with my own eyes.”

Denver sighed in relief. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means.”

I threw a glance toward the darkening horizon. “Don’t get your hopes up. If there’s any indication this is a suicide mission, I’m taking both of you and leaving. Won’t have your death shitting on my consciousness.”

I heard them gather their things behind me, but I didn’t look back.

They kept them in the bar across from a church. Innovative. Nothing says ‘we’re the bad guys’ like holding trafficking victims across from holy grounds.

We spent every scrap of daylight left camped out across the street, eyes trained on the guards. Three out front, three in the back and one at the side. None patrolled the businesses nearby. Amateurs. Lazy ones at that.

Darkness fell, and we made our way back to the house. Suckerpunch was lounging on the porch like he owned it, tail thumping once when we appeared. With no mangled bodies left waiting, I assumed it meant things had been rather uneventful for him. Small mercies.

Memphis and Denver were tight-lipped, telling me little of their time away from the caravan. The silence between us was only broken by asking direct questions. Even then, their answers were clipped. Trained silence. Every sentence was drenched in things they wouldn’t—or couldn’t—say.

I dropped my bag onto the hardwood with a heavy thud and Memphis flinched hard enough that her water spilled across the floor. Denver didn’t even react. Just stared at Memphis shaking hands until I tossed her an extra t-shirt to dry off. They’d both avoided eye contact after that.

“Get some rest,” I said, deciding leaving them to their own corner of the house would be best. “We move out at first light.”

The sun breached the clouds as we approached the bar, casting long shadows across the empty streets. Two hours crawled by as we waited. Lurking in the shadows out of sight. The tension mounted with the ticking clock. I was going to miss their departure. After everything she’d worked for these last few months, I was going to let her down when she needed me the most.

Riley and Abel were staying back for the sake of The Compound and any retaliation which meant it would be her, Reina, and Tomoe alone with Hunter, Serenity, and Caleb. Uneasiness quelled in my throat. No. I wouldn’t make her face the other leaders alone. I’d meet them there just in time if I kept a decent pace. Which meant I needed this shit to wrap up.

Fucking finally . The guards scheduled to take over the back door took their time walking up to their shift change. They stood around chatting, not yet heading around the front to grab their morning coffee off the fire as Denver swore they always did. It was a small miscalculation but time was a critical currency.

We were across the street the second they wandered off. Two minutes and forty-three seconds to execute this shit of a plan.

The door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, revealing a guard standing inside. I drove my knife into his neck, not giving him a moment to react, silencing him instantly. His body hit the floor with a thud and I motioned for Memphis and Denver to follow me. Denver bit down hard on a cry, her hand covering her mouth as she stepped over the growing pool of crimson. Suckerpunch held our rear, nudging her forward with his nose and away from the body.

Stale alcohol and the stench of sweet. This place is fucking disgusting . I took in the room. Dust clung to every surface as did puke, shit, and every other bodily fluid you could imagine. Three doors lined the back hallway—two marked as bathrooms and one unmarked. Suckerpunch crossed the room, sniffing softly at the bottom of the doors, then stopped in front of the last one.

“Office. One o’clock,” I said, raising my hand to cover my nose.

We moved quickly across the bar. I kicked the door in without hesitation. The guard behind lunged for my knife, knocking it from my hand. I was fast. I slammed him into the wall, stunning him. His head hit the corner of a shelf and Suckerpunch dragged him the rest of the way down. When I stomped on his skull, the sound was pleasantly final.

“Behind you!” Memphis yelled, tossing me my knife.

I caught it midair and spun. The blade sliced through the throat of a second guard. Blood sprayed across my face as he crumpled. Suckerpunch ran to the door, standing guard, ears low, neck forward.

The girls had gotten to work on the captives, their fingers fumbling with ropes tied in intricate knots. I reached down, trying to cut through the thick bond of the girl closest to me. They were too dense to slice through quickly and using my flames risked burning her skin. She’d been through enough. Her hands fell free at the same time as the girls Denver and Memphis had worked on. The three of them standing up, wobbling with the awkwardness of newborn deer.

They crowded at the door as Memphis and I worked on the remaining two. Suckerpunch went into a frenzy. His bark pierced the air. Shrill screams rang out. Three more guards stormed the room, guns drawn, magic flaring. Their voices shouting over one another.

Suckerpunch latched thigh of the guard closest to the girls. Granting Denver the opportunity to usher the others toward the door. He tore a chunk of the guard’s leg out at his attempt to reach after them. The guard raised his gun, pointing it at Suckerpunch at the same time my view of him was cut out.

“Go, Memphis! Now!” I shouted.

A chair flew across the room and two shots rang out. Denver launched herself at the guard and pulled him back from his neck. He dropped the gun, and I took a sigh of relief at the blur of Suckerpunch launching at his jugular.

Memphis hesitated. “We can’t! Jersey and Dakota are still tied up!” Her voice cracked as she fumbled with the ropes of her friend.

Denver moved to cover the other girls at the door, the swirling air magic in her hands a warning to anyone who dared approach. It wasn’t much, but it was raging in the way any air magic I’d ever seen. Almost resembling a storm inside the palm of her hand.

I dodged a blow to the head. The squat down bought me a second to take in the room. Suckerpunch pressed his head against Denver’s thigh, forcing the group from the door and out to what I hoped was safety. If we had any luck at all, these three guards were here for the shift change and had come inside from the noise, only after the others had left.

“Everyone stop, or they’re dead!” one of the guards yelled. He dragged Jersey and Dakota into view with a gun pressed to each of their heads. Memphis backed away slowly, arms raised.

The rest of the room froze.

His partner, face bloodied from our brawl, stalked across the room. “I’m done chasing after these brats.” He muttered, vines growing through the cracked wooden floors. In two seconds, it was over. Jersey and Dakota’s necks snapped with a sickening crack.

Memphis’s scream was earsplitting—a piercing wail of anguish. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, her face twisted in shock.

Rage surged through me, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. The guards in front of me didn’t have time to react before I incinerated them right where they stood. Their bodies crumpled into ash. The room lit with an ominous glow as flames spread, licking at the wooden walls and ceiling. The amount of water it would take to extinguish them would flood the room.

I turned to Memphis, shaking her by the shoulders. “Hey!” I barked. “Get it the fuck together. We have to go. Now.”

She stared past me, her eyes glassy and unfocused, still locked on the bodies of her friends. The fire was closing in, smoke thickening the air. I shook her again, harder this time.

“Memphis! Move!”

She blinked and stumbled to her feet. I damn near dragged her out, coughing as the smoke clawed at our throats.

The others waited out the back door. No other guards in sight. Luck had funny fucking timing. Memphis doubled over and vomited onto the pavement, her body racked with sobs. Grief clung to the others just as heavily, hollowing their faces.

“I’m sorry about your friends,” I said, though the words tasted like ash in my mouth. They didn’t mean anything—not to them, not to me. Apologies wouldn’t bring back the dead.

But I couldn’t stay. Not with the meeting set for tomorrow. Not with the information I possessed.

“The other group,” It came out sharper than I intended, even as my insides churned. “The one I told you about—they need this information. If I leave now, I might still make it.”

I glanced at Memphis, then Denver. Both were worn thin, the fight in them more instinct than choice at this point. “You’ve got two options: Monterey border patrol is west of here. I’ll give you a codeword to get them to take you to Monterey. Some of your caravan’s already there. Or you come with me to Hunter.”

Memphis met my eye, her face etched with lines of exhaustion and pain though recognition of Hunter’s name sparked a glimmer of hope. “We don’t belong behind walls. I like our chances now that we’re all together … most of us. But thank you, for everything.”

I nodded, but her gratitude struck hard, a blade sinking into my chest. I hadn’t saved them all. As I turned to leave, Denver’s voice called after me, quiet but firm.

“We’ll be around when you need us.”

Suckerpunch bounded off ahead. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The effort it took to leave them there, half-whole and on their own, was almost enough to stop me in my tracks. Almost.