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Stella wanted to tell Hagen to get on with it, but he held on for another minute until Ander confirmed the exterior door was covered.

Hagen counted down.

This was always the worst moment for Stella, the moment before everything started rushing around her. She remembered taking down Boris Kerne in a music store. That had ended with a busted wrist for her. Hopefully, no one got injured this time. Or worse.

They had to take Trevor McAuley alive.

Hagen gave the signal and kicked the door open.

“FBI. Put down your weapon.”

Stella rushed in behind him, with Anja on her heels. They fanned out, weapons trained on McAuley. Stella scanned the room.

A mosaic of images fought for her attention, each part of the picture striking her at the same time. Ander coming through the exterior door, Hagen shouting orders at McAuley, Anja shifting beside her.

And on the table, a man’s bloody corpse lay face down. His back was bare, the skin marked by the same strange writing Stella had seen too many times before.

Trevor McAuley, the killer who’d hounded them from Claymore Township, held Father Ted as a human shield. He gripped the knife he held to the priest’s neck in one hand and aimed the pistol toward Stella and Hagen.

He fired—twice.

Both went wild. Stella hit the floor behind a table as a bullet whizzed past her shoulder. A dozen feet away, Hagen sprawled on the floor too.

No cover. No escape.

“You two took your time.” McAuley’s voice was mocking, excited. “Took you long enough. Thought maybe you weren’t coming.”

“Trevor McAuley, drop the weapon now!” Stella used her command voice, forcing steel into every word. “Put it down. Do it now!”

Shelter guests scrambled to their feet and shuffled to the wall, pushing and shoving to leave as quickly as possible while the maniac’s attention was diverted. Ander and Anja covered for them and escorted them to safety.

The young man didn’t seem to mind. Even as his hostages fled, he kept his focus on Stella and Hagen, the muzzle of the gun shifting back and forth between them. Stella badly wished either of her fellow agents had remained inside. Maybe one of them could’ve gotten a shot.

Even as the thought entered her mind, McAuley’s focus shifted to where Ander now stood in the doorway. “Don’t you dare try something. You can get these folks out of here. But if you try something, I’ll start killing.”

Ander took a step back, but just enough to get out of the line of fire. He’d wait, Stella knew, for a better opportunity.

McAuley shifted his attention back to Stella and Hagen. “It’s only you two I need. See? I don’t care. I’ll let everyone else go. They don’t mean anything to me.” He fired another shot at Stella. The shot ricocheted off metal, dangerously close.

Stella moved, adjusting for a shot, but McAuley jerked, dragging the priest back, the muzzle of his gun shifting toward her.

She cursed and flipped the table, its surface forming a temporary barrier between them. It was made of some kind of compacted wood that might be able to withstand a bullet or two. But not much more.

Hagen scrambled over and joined her behind the table.

This was too familiar. Less than two weeks had passed since they’d found themselves in a similar position, aiming their weapons at someone and hoping they’d get out of the room with no more spilled blood.

They’d failed then. They couldn’t fail this time. They couldn’t let this kid kill the priest. And they needed McAuley’s help to put a stop to these killings entirely.

“Trevor, you need to put those weapons down. It’s not too late.”

The young man laughed at Hagen’s order. He was excited. “You’re right, it’s not. Everyone can get out of here safely. Except you two. That’s the deal.”

Stella shifted to the left edge of the table. If Hagen went right and she went left, one of them might get a clean shot.

McAuley backed toward the wall, dragging Father Ted with him. His gun pressed against the priest’s ribs. “So what’s it gonna be? Your lives or his?” He reached the corner of the room. He had no way out.

And they had no easy way to take him down. They’d have to talk their way out of this problem.

“Trevor.” Father Ted’s voice trembled. “Is that your name? Trevor? Why don’t you tell me what you want. Maybe we can?—”

The deranged young man laughed at him. “We can what? It’s very simple. There’s no other way out of this. None of this is on me, you hear that? None of it.”

Stella knew this moment. Trevor McAuley wanted to talk. He needed to be heard. And that was fine by her. If he was talking, he wasn’t killing.

She grabbed onto that thread. “Okay, that’s fine. Why is it not on you?”

His grip tightened on the priest. “I have to do this. I have to! It’s for my future.”

That laugh again. Excited.

But what did he mean? His future?

Before she could ask, he went on. “I’m not like Mrs. King. I don’t care about that redemption bullshit.”

Stella stayed calm, patient. “You and Mrs. King killed Laurence Gill and Mark Tully?”

“That’s right.” His tone was almost conversational. “She had this idea one day that Laurence was the key to salvation. I never bought into it, but I’d do anything for her. And Mark…well, that was just for fun.”

Hagen’s jaw clenched. “Is this a game?”

McAuley grinned. “Nah. Furthest thing from it. But some people are worth more than others, that’s just the truth.”

Stella eased left, inching toward a shot.

McAuley didn’t notice. He was too caught up in his own voice.

“What about Patrick?”

“Bait. Something to lure you two back home.”

Bait. For her and Hagen.

But why?

Stella tightened her hands on her weapon. She wanted to shoot him there and then. If he just moved a little, she could take him.

And they’d struggle to catch the other players. She needed to keep him distracted. “And Otto Walker?”

McAuley scoffed. “Otto was my assistant. Or so I thought. He had this method…said he had a better way to take the blood we needed. We used his little trick on Patrick. Then Otto got cold feet.” His lip curled. “Can’t have that. Either you’re in, or you’re out.”

“So you killed him.”

“I did. I had too. But Otto didn’t matter. Or Patrick. It was you I wanted. Both of you. Then I’ll get paid and get out of here. No one from my old life will ever find me again.”

Paid.

Who was paying him?

A question for later.

Stella nodded. “Well, here we are. Let Father Ted go. You don’t need him.”

That laugh came again, and goose bumps rose on Stella’s arms.

“You’re right again. But that puts me at a bit of a disadvantage, no?”

“Come on, Trevor.” Hagen shook his head. “That’s not how this works. Let him go and put your weapons down. We can figure this out.”

“You’re surrounded, Trevor.” Stella couldn’t understand what was going through the young man’s head. Had he played one too many video games and believed his life would be reset later? “SWAT’s on the way. You don’t want to die today.”

She watched him process. He was doing the math, calculating the odds.

“We can help you, Trevor. If it’s money you want, we can give you money. But only if you let Father Ted go.”

McAuley hesitated. Then, a flicker of realization.

No way out. No reset button. Game over meant forever in the real world.

McAuley pressed the blade deeper into Father Ted’s skin. “I’ll let him go once everyone else leaves. Get out!”

He fired two more shots at the doorway. It was empty, thankfully.

But the situation couldn’t go on like this. She needed to act.

Stella shifted around the left side of the table. Father Ted was bleeding. McAuley’s blade had broken through skin, and his white collar sucked in the red from the wound like a sponge.

Though now exposed, she could shoot McAuley before he did any more damage. She knew she could. Adjusting her aim, she slid the muzzle down his body and squeezed the trigger.

A red mist exploded from McAuley’s thigh. He screamed, dropping to his knees. The knife clattered beside him as he tried to staunch the sudden rush of blood. His gun was still in his other hand, though.

Rushing forward, Stella kicked his gun out of his grasp as he rolled over in agony. One hand dropped close to the knife.

“Father!” Hagen yelled, and the priest started crawling away.

As the young man reached for the knife, Stella lunged to get to it first just as another gunshot blasted through the room.

The top of McAuley’s head opened up like a dropped pumpkin. His brains splattered across the floor and wall. And a wisp of smoke drifted away from the muzzle of Anja’s Glock.

Stella’s gut twisted. “Dammit, Anja!” But she didn’t have time to dwell on the consequences of the other agent’s choice. “Call an ambulance!” She kicked the knife clear and checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

She looked at Hagen, who was tending to the priest. “Hagen?”

Father Ted took a shaky breath. “I think I’m okay. A surface wound.” He touched his bloodstained collar. “Someone’s watching over me.”

Hagen pressed a cloth to the wound and activated his radio. “This is Agent Yates, requesting EMS to my location, now.”