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"You’re pathetic,” Ruby muttered as the man stumbled to his feet, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. She dodged another swing, her movements effortless, while his were sluggish, fueled by sheer desperation. “Was it worth it?” she hissed, slamming him back into the dirt.

With one hand, she pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number. The man thrashed pointlessly beneath her.

“They were right,” she said into the phone, skipping any pleasantries. Her free hand absently touched the spot where the wood had splintered into her cheek, finding only dried blood. “He’s weak enough that a C squad could handle him.”

“Where should I send them?” Lucas asked.

“To the house. Outside the barn, in the back,” she replied, scanning the flickering flames for any sign of movement.

A keyboard clicked softly in the background of the call. “A team will be there in thirty.”

“Lucas?”

“Yes?”

She hesitated. The warm glow of the barn cast eerie shadows across the ground. “He took a third victim. We’ll need the cleanup crew, too.”

The line went dead. Ruby sighed, knowing Lucas hadn’t hung up out of apathy or ignorance. He’d make the necessary calls. Then he’d probably retreat to a bar to drown the images in his mind, like he did after every case he assigned her. She knew better than to call him back.

The man beneath her had grown quiet, his high fading fast. He no longer struggled, his once-strong limbs now weak and unsteady.

He looked longingly toward the fire, making a feeble attempt to wiggle out from under her foot.

Curious, Ruby released him, watching as he dragged his body a mere two feet before collapsing.

She sighed again, dragging him back to the grass and sitting beside him, the hay and dirt biting into her thighs.

His eyes were open, but they were distant, lost in the disorienting fog of withdrawal.

In an hour or two, he’d have enough energy to hunt again. He wouldn’t live that long.

The phlogiston floated toward the night sky, the glowing patterns reminiscent of the Aurora Borealis.

Was he looking at the same patterns, seeing the same eerie beauty?

Or was he too far gone to notice? She sighed, brushing dirt from her palms, wondering—if things had been different, would she have ended up like him?

A mindless husk chasing smoke and ash? She’d saved herself, but only barely.

And not without leaving pieces of her soul behind in the fire.

For a moment, the world stilled, silent, as if the universe itself held its breath.

Ruby collapsed the baton, shoving it back into its holder. The hem of her dress fell back into place just as a baritone voice interrupted the silence.

“Excuse me?”

She stood, assuming it to be one of the execution squad—they hated being called that, insisting they were called the enforcement unit—or cleanup crew.

But instead of a uniformed officer, a familiar figure—broad-shouldered, sandy blonde curls peeking out from under a cap, and the scent of wood—found her.

The latecomer from the church.

He jogged over to her, his expression panicked. “I saw the fire on my way home. Is everyone okay?”

Ruby blinked, surprised. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. Maybe he did belong to this community after all. She forced a smile, then dropped it when it felt too unnatural. “Yes, thank goodness. Saw the smoke from my truck and stopped to check. I managed to get him out before it got too bad.”

“Did you call 911?” He closed in, now only a few feet away, concern etched into his features.

“Yes,” she lied. However, she had called a government agency that would deal with the fire. “They’ll be here soon. But it’s not safe; you really should—”

Before she could finish, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

Stunned and a bit confused, Ruby didn’t react in time to stop him as he lunged for her face.

The mask tore free before her brain could catch up.

She gasped, the night air suddenly too cold against her exposed skin.

By the time her body moved, it was too late.

She stumbled backward, landing hard on the ground as he sprinted toward the fire and hurled the mask into the flames.

The badge in his back pocket caught her eye, and Ruby cursed under her breath. She scrambled away, berating herself for letting her guard down.

Before she could escape, he seized her ankle and twisted, using her own momentum to send her off balance.

As she stumbled, he shifted his grip, redirecting her weight with a sharp pull that hurdled her back toward the fire.

She lashed out, her boot driving into his ribs.

The impact sent him sprawling, his cap flying off as he collided with the barn wall.

The structure groaned in protest, flames devouring the weakened beams.

Her breath hitched. That face—she’d know it anywhere. A cold weight settled in her stomach, memories crashing down like a tidal wave.

Cursing silently, Ruby forced herself to stay calm, holding her breath even as her lungs screamed for air. She sprinted toward the barn, refusing to let him die from his own stupidity. Inside, the heat blistered, smoke thick and suffocating. Ash clung to her skin, gritty and relentless.

Squinting through the haze, she searched desperately. He was gone.

The rafters creaked ominously above her.

Ruby bolted outside. The barn groaned, wood splintering like bones snapping underfoot, before the entire structure caved in, flames roaring to claim it.

She prayed the other outsider had found a way out.

Black spots dotted her vision, and she could feel the dangerous heaviness settling into her limbs.

Though she could live without breathing, she couldn’t see or move without oxygen.

If she pushed herself too far, she’d fall into a comatose state.

But inhaling the stimulant-laden air was just as dangerous.

If she gave in, the man, and maybe even the entire town, would be in danger.

Staggering forward, Ruby fought against the weight pulling her down. Her steps faltered, and as she slipped, strong hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her up and dragging her backward.

“Why bother trying to hide it?” He dropped her unceremoniously to the ground in front of the barn, coughing as he stepped back.

“Trying to save your life,” she bit out, unable to resist the retort. But in speaking, she involuntarily inhaled through her nose.

She gasped, pupils dilating as the phlogiston coursed through her system like a shot of pure adrenaline.

She ground her teeth and her mind raced, unable to focus on anything except the overwhelming sensations flooding her body.

Every nerve ignited, her tendons twitching and senses flaring, desperate to sustain the rush.

The man smirked, watching her transformation. “There she is,” he drawled, satisfaction curling his lips.

The pressure in her chest built, expanding through every part of her until she howled in pain.

Her skin buzzed with unreleased energy, and she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

She launched herself at him, ready to tear him apart, ready to feed the fire with his body, craving more, so much more, not caring who he was or what she’d become.

But as her hand gripped his arm, a flash of red hair streaked through her mind. A voice—familiar, pleading—called to her, begging her to help, to stop the fire. She couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t pull herself away from the need. It screamed as it blistered, begged as she consumed.

The farmer staggered to his feet behind the stranger.

A glint of silver caught her eye. Instinct took over, and she dove for it.

Her body moved before her mind did, the pitchfork spinning from her hand like an arrow loosed from a bow.

It found its mark, embedding itself with a sickening thud into the chest of her original target.

He crumpled to the ground, the pitchfork buried deep in his chest.

Ruby turned back to the outsider, hunger blazing, her mind swirling with the need to prolong the high. He tensed, his hand flying to the gun on his belt, panic written across his face.

Red hair caught in orange flames.

The memory broke through. With a choked gasp, Ruby dropped to her knees and vomited on his shoes.