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“You haven’t been sharing shit, Sawyer. Scraps—we took the rest. Words mean jack. We’re still starving in here.”

Beau sighs. He’s much more put together, particularly considering the pre-dawn hour, looking rested and showered. I wonder if Dom has him on his schedule now. Beau was always a lazy riser when he was living with me.

His look over the Reapers is more sympathetic, but no less grim. “Jayk’s right. I’ve got two in our med bay right now with dizzy spells so bad they’re fighting to see straight.”

A cynical laugh punches out of Cole as he turns, linking his hands behind his head, and I soften my expression as I step forward, ensuring I appear as carefully open as they are closed. As relaxed as they are charged.

This needs de-escalating.

“Sawyer, we want more allies. More friends. But you have to understand our caution—the risks we’re taking by even talking with you. If Alastair found out...” I trail off, letting that sit for a moment, until his gaze finally flicks up to mine.

He looks like a cornered animal.

“If you want friendship from us, you need to give us something,” I murmur. “You need to meet us halfway.”

Meaningfully, I look down at Jennifer, and Sawyer’s eyes close as he unconsciously draws her close—in front of him, like she’s his protection. Cole stays quiet, slumping into his chair by their fire, his handsome face still as he stares too blindly into the flames.

Anxious tension billows off the Red Zone newcomers.

Finally, Sawyer’s eyes open, and they have a bright, suspicious shine.

“It must be nice,” he whispers, and there’s jealousy and bitterness and longing throbbing in his voice as he looks over Red Zone and the civilians behind us, “that you had each other. It must be nice... We’ve been surviving, we have, but it’s been .

. . low. You can’t know how low we’ve fallen, out there by ourselves. ”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle to life.

The darkness etched in him is something etched in me, too. It’s still there, that cold, lawless place I clawed my way out of.

“We’ve never had anyone helping us,” he says, and his expression is quietly imploring.

“We’re trying to be patient, but this food is all we have to offer.

If we give it away, we lose all our leverage.

We have nothing to bargain with. You could just.

.. leave us to it.” Sawyer swallows, then rubs a hand across his mustache.

His voice is broken when he whispers, “And we need things to change.”

My throat aches at the tone—at the sound that is far too close to begging.

Jennifer’s breathing snags, and she wraps her arms around his neck. After a moment, his arms come around her, too, squeezing hard.

I glance at my brutes around me, seeing their caution and sympathy, their kindness and determination.

When she finally pulls back, she cups his face and shakes her head at him, tears in her eyes. “Then maybe you need to change, too.”

He gives her a long, pained look, then glances over at Cole.

Slowly, Cole looks up from his fire. His pretty face is made infernal in the light of the flames. It’s deprived. Hungry. Like he’d make any devil deal he needed to keep his people safe.

“We just want it to stop. We all want that.” He swallows, his bitter gaze dark with need. “Don’t we? We ain’t alone there?”

Jayk doesn’t answer, and neither does Dom. Sawyer and Cole both look over at us, at me , and I pause, caught. My heart rate picks up.

This is dangerous.

That question is dangerous.

Alastair holds all the cards. The captives. Our leaders.

But we’re starving, the Reapers are being attacked, and Red Zone is desperate.

The Sinners need to be stopped.

Slowly, I nod, and choose my words carefully, “We do want an end to the attacks, yes.”

At my words, Arthur’s frown eases into something different—something vaguely befuddled, but... hopeful. He exchanges a look with his people, who give him edged, nervous nods back.

Finally, Arthur nods too, this time toward Sawyer. “The Sinners have pushed all of us too far, and for far too long. We can’t commit to anything, but... maybe it’s something we can all discuss.”

In slow, tentative increments, Sawyer’s shoulders unknot, until finally, he looks down at Jennifer.

“Is this what you think we should do? Give it all up?” he asks softly. “We just ... surrender?”

“Surrender is just a word,” she replies, just as soft. “A word that only means you’re not choosing war.”

Sawyer’s head tilts as he considers that, and finally, his mustache pulls up on one side.

“Well, far be it from me to ignore the wisdom of a pretty lady.” He looks over his shoulder, his voice lifting, though it’s etched with nerves.

“Pete? Buck? Grab a few of them bags over there and hand ’em over. ”

My stomach swoops, then soars.

He’s doing it.

The Reapers are actually sharing their food.

“No way.” Lucky’s groan sounds a little too like the sounds that escaped him last night, but I’m not sure I can blame him, and I toss him a sideways grin.

Pete and Buck get to it quickly, fetching the bags and walking them over the bridge. Beau meets them part way across it, checking the bags briefly before he hands them off to Jasper, Dom, and Lucky.

Oh, what are we doing? What does this mean? My mind starts to race. By accepting this, are we agreeing to an alliance?

Is this a resistance?

God, we need to be so incredibly careful.

As if sensing my thoughts, Sawyer nods at the food.

“Consider it a show of good faith.” He clears his throat.

“Now y’all have a kitchen in that big ole house of yours, I hear.

How about you whip up a few things in there and we’ll cook up a few things out here, maybe get that music kicking on again, and we have ourselves a good old-fashioned barbecue.

We can all talk shop over a hot meal.” He shrugs, and a tentative smile spreads across his face.

“Nothing makes for new friends and fair deals like good food, don’t you think? ”

His eyes plead for that to be true.

The civs come forward, taking bag after bag—at first tentative, and then with laughter, and a few teasing catcalls at Jennifer, who rolls her eyes and blows them a kiss.

My empty stomach squeezes at the idea of so much food.

We’ll test it of course, check that it’s still good, but.

.. for the first time since Cyanide, it feels like we’re not at a loss.

Like this is the change we’ve been waiting for.

There is something here.

My heart beats fast, panicked and hopeful all at once.

Cole laughs again, this time a soft little chuckle that still has edges of darkness to it.

“To new allies, then.” His eyes glow as he looks back into his fire. “May they not sell us out.”

Arthur and his friends, dirty and clearly tired from their travels, take it all in with a hesitant kind of bemusement—like it’s too much to hope for. A not insubstantial part of me agrees.

Allies.

It’s a dangerous, thrilling concept.

Jayk’s hand comes up around the back of my neck, squeezing hard, and I smile up at him too as the idea settles in me. Good things come in all kinds of rough packages, after all.

Finally, I nod to Cole, to Sawyer and Jennifer, and I settle on a word that feels less dangerous, but no less important.

“To new friends.”