Samara was right about the construction zone. It’s hidden just far enough out of the city line so the police swarming the area wouldn’t accidentally stumble on it, but I’m still not convinced that they aren’t in Alastor’s pocket. It wouldn’t be the first time they pulled that trick on us before, and thankfully, I learn from my mistakes. I just hope Baron has too.

I crouch behind one of the unfinished buildings, the wood sticking to the fabric of my vest while Samara carefully works a small drone, crawling through the grass and dirt. She bends over the receiving camera, her movements slow and careful as she draws her hand around the touch screen, easing the direction back and forth sloppily. The camera tilts, catching a flash of movement by the back corner of a neighboring building.

“Behind the building,” I whisper sharply. My nerves edge out of control as it skates in the opposite direction of where I said, directly into the contractor’s line of sight.

The smoke died out quickly once we split up, but the smell is pungent enough that only an idiot would mistake it for something else. It led us to them like a breadcrumb trail and the contractors spread out like ants collecting food. I doubt a contractor—or Alastor for that matter—would actually notice a large black camera moving towards him, but I’d rather not take the chance that he’d grown a brain within the last twenty-four hours either. Even idiots have their moments of intelligence.

“Right there. They’ll see you.”

“Working on it.” Samara shakes her head, muttering under her breath as she tries maneuvering it in the other direction.

To her credit, she’s doing her best. I could never have been able to operate something like this, let alone build it, but when the wind blows it further towards a group of lingering contractors, I can feel the muscles in my shoulders pull tight.

“Behind the building,” I repeat and Samara turns her head sharply, burning a glare into me.

“This isn’t as easy as it looks, Castor,” she hisses, adjusting her grip. Her hand locks and she growls under her breath, slapping her arm angrily. “Fucking prosthetic. Move!” she snaps, tapping it again.

“Want one of mine?” I deadpan.

Her eyes shift to me, narrowing at my comment and that only makes me laugh.

“If you keep backseat driving, I might.” She rolls her eyes. “You’ve got a big mouth for someone so soft.”

I stop, my laughter dying on my tongue as my eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She keeps her eyes on the drone feed, shrugging as she slowly works the drone into the nearby building.

“I haven’t heard you say more than two words at a time in the last six years, let alone heard you laugh.” She pauses like she’s expecting me to defend myself and I almost do, but there’s an uncomfortable truth to it that makes me want to vomit.

She shakes her head when I don’t answer, taking it as an answer of its own. “Stay quiet all you like. Helena is about as patient as Arik, so I wouldn’t count on it helping you.”

I ignore her, turning back to the feed. I bark another order at her, just to annoy her for trying to psychoanalyze me. She knows I hate when she reads me and I hate it even more when she brings Arik into this. He’s mine. She can’t talk about him.

The same feeling pulls at my chest when she mentions Helena. A need to keep them, watch them, and kill anyone that breathes near them. Samara is an exception only because she’s Helena’s friend. I can hack into networks without her.

Even when I try to force the feeling away, it festers, like a bug crawling under my skin when I can’t watch them. I don’t like when she’s out of my sight. I want her here so I know she’s safe. I don’t know what anyone would call that feeling, and I don’t know why Samara gets this stupid look on her face when she grills me about it. Arik is mine, and Helena is mine. I don’t know what else she expects me to say. They’re mine. My best friend. My toy. My girl.

I open my mouth to speak but she cuts me off with her hand, the other frozen on the screen. “I’ve got him.”

My eyes snap to the feed. Alastor is in the center of the lot, moving about in circles as he barks orders to anyone that is near him. Contractors rush about in a blur that masks the camera’s vision, but I’d recognize that stupid look on his face anywhere. The sight pulls a deep satisfaction out of me; we’ve finally found him. I pull out my phone and fire off a text to Helena and Baron, sending them the coordinates. Before I even shut off the screen, Baron’s reply flashes on the screen.

“They’re on the way,” I tell Samara, but she doesn’t answer.

Unease pools in my gut as I follow her gaze to the camera feed and then I see the contractors clearing out just enough to see Alastor loading up a fucking plane.

“You’ve got to be joking,” I balk.

He’s not serious. He’s fucking running? I knew Alastor was a coward but I’d expected something more from him than to run and hide, especially after taunting us to the police.

I click on my phone, frantically sending out a text, but Samara rips it from my hands. “We need to go.”

“Arik and Helena aren’t here yet,” I argue. “We agreed to wait.”

Samara’s eyes stay glued to the screens, scanning the feed as Alastor starts boarding the plane, growing more restless. “Silas…”

No. They’ll make it.

The engines roar to life.

“It’s now or never, Castor!”

“They’ll make it!” I bark back.

She doesn’t wait. The second the plane moves, she’s igniting the flight on the drone and jams it right into the engines. She slams on the red button on her screen and the drone explodes. The feed cuts but the explosion is large enough from us to see even from here. The metal twists and groans, flames licking at the wreckage as contractors scream in pain.

“Come on!” Samara masks herself quickly, clicking her metal helmet over her head and charging towards the treeline behind the lot.

She doesn’t look back, and suddenly I’m left alone. I blink, astonished that she’d actually go in there by herself. I know she’s been out of the field for a while, but Jesus christ. This woman is going to kill us.

I wrap my scarf around my face and move in slowly, edging away from the creek bed. The explosion didn’t kill as many contractors as I’d hoped. A lot of them are only missing a few limbs, scattered in pieces around the lot, but I don’t bother killing them. Those aren’t the ones I’m worried about. Alastor stumbles out of the wreckage, coughing and patting the remnants of the flames stuck to his charred clothes.

Shadows flicker around the edge of the trees as the rest of the contractors make their way towards the treeline, stepping into the creek bed that cuts through the forest. The water ripples as they inch closer, closing in.

I round a tree, climbing onto a low branch as they inch closer. “We’re gonna die,” I mutter.

“I heard that,” Samara’s voice crackles through my earpiece. Seconds later, Samara’s trap springs and the water lights up with electricity. They seize up, their bodies locking and then falling limp into the water. I jump down, scraping my feet against the dirt as her voice crackles in my ear.

“Where’s Alastor?”

I press on the intercom, “I’m locating him.” I track Alastor’s shape through the smoke, seeing four contractors helping him to his feet, and then his eyes lock on me.

“There he is!” Alastor booms.

I dive behind the crumbling edge of a wall as bullets ricochet around me. My gun is out, and I fire back, taking down a few before another wave pushes forward. It’s a dance, ducking and then firing on them, each time falling one, and then another takes his place. My gun clicks and I drop the clip, reloading with another and firing again, but they’re gone. My eyes scan the area and then right behind a crate of insulation, I see the muzzle of a rifle.

I aim to shoot, but then I see a red grenade roll out onto the space between us and I duck down just as the poison clouds the space. Coughing fills the air, followed by gagging as they struggle to get away from the smoke, but like the others, they fall to the floor as the drug shuts down their body, and they stop moving.

Samara appears, offering her hand. “You alright?” I take it and she pulls me to my feet, steadying me and leading us both out of the noxious cloud.

We weave through the remains of the constructed buildings. The contractor’s have stopped screaming, and an unnerving calm has replaced it. Dust still lingers in the air, tossed around by the flaming plane that grows closer and closer while we clear the area. It’s been abandoned. The houses are all half built, the beginnings of a cul-de-sac but the wood is rotting with termites and the insulation is wet from rain.

My eyes fall on a small house burnt to ashes, where that sickly sweet smell makes my nose curl. The perfect place to burn bodies without anyone noticing, and no one will ever know what happened to those people who died. They’re useless now.

Alastor’s footprints in the dirt turn to a drag, one leg lagging behind the other and leading into another house, this one almost completed. I motion for Samara to find the south entrance while I circle the front. I check my rifle again, keeping my finger on the trigger as I move on. I immediately point the muzzle at each side, scanning for movement but it’s just as silent as the outside.

A door creaks from the inside and Samara enters through the backdoor, shaking their head. Alastor is gone.

I sigh, lowering my rifle. “Great. Now what?”

Samara shakes her head, glancing around the small space. The wood vibrates as we walk through the building. There’s only so many places he could’ve gone. He can’t move far, not without his only transportation gone. He may make his way back to the city. Helena and Baron can cut him off before—

The wood vibrates again and I stop, hushing Samara with my hand. It’s not our movements that’s shaking the house. It’s not vibrations either.

It’s an engine.

I shove Samara out of the way just as a bulldozer charges through the house, splitting it in two. I duck and roll, only barely moving out of the way as it barrels over the space I was standing. Inside it, a contractor is cackling, steering with one arm while the stump of his other leaks blood in its path.

I lunge for Samara but the bulldozer quickly backs up, blocking my path. I aim and fire, but the bullets barely leave a scratch.

“Go!” Samara shouts, waving me out from the other side. “I’m right behind you.”

I chase after Alastor as he slips inside another building, firing blindly at me as he weaves between walls. I dodge his shots, firing back but it misses, lodging into the wooded beams supporting the structure. He aims again, but this time not at me. He trains the muzzle of his sidearm between us both at Samara as she dodges the bulldozer again.

Instinct kicks in. I at Alastor’s gun, the ricochet from my shot catching his wrist and knocking the gun from his hand before bounding back and hitting the contractor right between the eyes. Alastor crumples to his knees, clutching his hand in pain and I stride forward, my rifle trained on him.

“Give me a reason,” I dare him.

Alastor puts his hands up, meeting my gaze with defiance and exhaustion mingled in his eyes. I keep the barrel of my gun steady. I don’t know what he’s playing but if he thinks he’s going to get mercy from me by surrendering, he’s wrong. I’ll allow him to beg for his life right before I put a bullet in him.

“I’ll be damned,” Samara says in their mechanical voice. She’s proud, in disbelief that he’s here. I never doubted her abilities, but seeing Alastor on his knees with his hands raised gives me enough satisfaction to make me smile.

Alastor is ours.

I look over my shoulder, expecting to see Helena and Baron running into the carnage, but there’s nothing but bodies outside. I check my phone. No texts either.

“Did you hear anything from them?” I whisper.

Samara shakes her head. “I’ll call them.”

“No,” I say quickly. “They could be compromised. If Baron hasn’t answered his phone, it’s for a reason. Take the car and sweep the docks. Something isn’t right.”

She hesitates, giving me a disapproving look. I already know she’s going to tell me it’s a bad idea. She and Arik are obsessively cautious when it comes to splitting up, it’s nauseating. I’m all for thinking things through, but all of the contractors are dead, and if there are more, they’d be with Helena.

Eventually, she hands me a pair of handcuffs. “Be careful.”

I quickly cuff Alastor to one of the support beams, tightening them until I hear his grunting in pain.

“Go on,” I tell her, snapping the other cuff. “I’ll take care of any stragglers.”

Samara gives me one last look before she turns and leaves in her truck.

When I’m alone with him, a weight settles into my chest. Twelve years. Twelve years I’ve waited patiently while he and his brother made my life a living hell. One down, one more to go. Acacia will be nothing without a leader, and I’ll make sure that his execution is televised so that Acacia can see exactly what happens when you piss us off.

I lower my gaze, feeling that cold satisfaction seep in. Alastor’s breathing is ragged, and he looks up at me, his mouth twisted in a smirk.

“You have no idea the shit you’re about to get into.” I crouch down, narrowing my eyes. “Fifteen goddamn years. It’s time to end this war.”

Alastor looks up at me from his knees, and his smile fades.

“I agree.”