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He’s shaking his head, walking back from us, and his laugh sounds like greasy gears.

“All of us want that. It’s all we’ve ever wanted.

Peace and quiet. It’s them—” He looks at Alastair and Mateo.

“They attacked us. The Sinners have always threatened us. Killed us. You come here and lecture us about good and bad ? We were just surviving, the only way we could. The only way you let us! We never wanted this!”

Oh, crap . Sawyer getting emotional is the last thing we need right now.

The Sinners’ grips tighten around their weapons, and Sullivan watches Sawyer warily.

“Well, as I said, that’s over now, as you can see. If we can agree?—”

“You have no right,” Sawyer snaps. He stops his retreat, and rage makes his cheeks red and splotchy.

My stomach tightens in quick panic, my pulse racing as Lucky shifts in front of me, but he’s not focused on us.

When Sawyer turns back to Sullivan, he’s vibrating with anger.

“We were welcoming you here. We made a feast . You show some gratitude when you come begging. You said on the radio you wanted to make things right? Well, we lost over eighty men in this war that they set on us. Good, hardworking men whose hands grew the food that you got fat on,” he spits, then points at Alastair and Mateo.

“You want to make things right? Then they need to die. Them and everyone like them who attacked us. Maybe then we’ll consider if we’ll work with you . ”

Sullivan stiffens, his lips tightening, but he glances at Alastair and Mateo grimly.

This was what he came here for.

My anger smolders alongside growing panic as I watch Sawyer snarl at the Sinners, but I try to keep my voice firm.

“Sawyer, maybe we can take a moment . . .”

Sawyer doesn’t even turn around, waving me off with a dismissive hand, as though even my voice is annoying him, and he wanders up closer to Alastair and Mateo.

“Should I shoot him?” Lucky asks me darkly, and I’m not at all sure it’s a joke.

Sawyer pauses, looking down at the prisoners. Tucking a thumb into his belt, he sniffs.

“You know, no one ever treats us with the respect we deserve. I think it’s about time y’all remember...” He points a finger at his chest. “We’re the ones with the food.” Slowly, he points up at Sullivan. “And you, you don’t know how to plant it. You don’t know how to harvest it. You need us.”

Sullivan’s hands twitch nervously, and dread soaks into me at the uncertainty in his face.

“We do... appreciate how much you do,” Sullivan says carefully, and Sawyer scoffs.

The Reaper starts walking backward, his arms spread.

“Then we have no problem here! Kill them and come on inside. We’ll be squared right up!” Sawyer shouts, and with a tight grimace, Sullivan nods to his men.

“No, Sawyer!” I snap.

“Shut up , woman,” he snaps back, and I grab Jayk’s gun before he can shoot him.

Mateo punches to his feet, but a Sinner kicks him back down, and Lucky trains his weapon on the Sinner. About two dozen rifles whip up to point back at us.

Beyond the convoy, I hear the shriek of tires.

Sullivan’s hands lift, his eyes widening in alarm as fingers slip to triggers and tension crackles in the brisk air.

“Sullivan, don’t do this,” I urge in a hurried, demanding rush. He needs to keep his head right now. “There are things you don’t understand, and that I can explain. Things about Alastair and Mateo that mean they absolutely must not be killed today.”

Sullivan looks me over, but his white brows lower.

Somewhere, a car door slams.

“No,” he says slowly. “I’ve seen what these two are capable of. Sawyer’s right. Nothing can save them now.”

No .

My chest squeezes in panic. No, not now. Not after all of it. We’ve worked so hard.

I’m not ready to lose them yet.

There’s so much more good they’re still capable of.

“What are we doing, beautiful?” Lucky asks under his breath, but I don’t have an answer for him.

There’s too much. It’s too big to explain, and they don’t want to listen, and...

Alastair meets my eyes. His are pale and pretty, and even now so, so cold, and he lifts one fatalistic shoulder as I stare at him.

Mateo is hauled into place beside him.

And rifles are pressed against the back of their heads.

“Stop! You son of fucking whore, Sullivan! Don’t you kill him, please ! I’m going to rip out your throat! Stop !”

Everyone turns as Heather rips through the line of Sinners.

“Is that Madison?” one of the Sinners mutters from behind Sullivan.

“I was wondering where the hell she got to,” another says.

Heather’s a mess. Her flaming hair is tangled around her face, and her eyes are swollen raw from crying, but she has a pistol in each grip—one pointing at Sullivan, and one at the Sinners.

A sob escapes Heather as she stares at Alastair, and for the first time, his calm snaps. He flinches forward, panic slipping into his features, but the Sinner behind him shoves the rifle hard into his head, and he stills.

I press a hand to my throat.

Okay. Well.

This should calm things down.

“Back the fuck away from them,” Heather snarls. “That’s an order, Sinners.”

“Don’t!” Sawyer snaps. “Who the hell is this? Shoot her.”

No one moves, and Heather fires a shot into the air in one quick, blistering move, then points it back at the Sinners.

“ Now ! Move your fucking asses!”

The two Sinners holding rifles on Alastair and Mateo back up, and Sullivan grimaces.

I close my mouth. Apparently, there are some benefits to sheer belligerent courage after all.

Sullivan eyes her nervously, but he’s edged with impatience as he shifts to face her.

“Heather, enough. It’s been a stressful few months, but this is what we’ve been working toward.

I’m not sure what Bentley said to poison you against our cause, but I can assure you, the goal is still the same.

Peace. Freedom. I don’t know why you’re so overwhelmed by?—”

“Do not call her emotional,” I bite out coldly. “Heather is intervening because you’re making reckless decisions based on incomplete facts, and instead of dismissing her or Bentley, you should have been listening.”

I nod to Lucky, flicking my gaze to Sawyer, and he shifts around seamlessly, falling casually in behind the Reaper.

It settles me marginally, and I draw in a steadying breath as I turn back to the Sinners.

This is it.

The space we need to stall.

“Heather’s intervening because you don’t have the full story,” I tell them firmly, “And it’s about time that you did, so please... settle in.”