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“I know that now, and I’ll tell her the truth.” Reid reached an unsteady hand across the table, knocking over his empty mug. “Let me see Marin. I’ll make it right and beg her forgiveness.” He made a choking sound. “She’ll forgive me, right?”

Bowen squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t know. But it’s a start. You can build from there.” Bowen turned to the side, asking me a question with his eyes.

It would be so easy to tell him no. To let Reid drown in his guilt, the way Marin had drowned. But dying was easy. It was living with regret that was hard.

I nodded, and Bowen continued, “We’re going to help you, Reid. We can’t change the past, but this—” he motioned to the tavern. “is not a future. We’ll figure this out. All of us. Together.”

Reid’s features crumpled as he stumbled to his feet. “Let’s go now. I want to see her.”

I hesitated. But if Marin knew the truth, it would help my cause.

She’d trust me again. And trust was probably the only thing that would keep us alive on our hunt.

I was also selfish. After tonight, she’d stop looking at me like I’d broken her heart.

Like she was dying to destroy what was left of mine.

Bowen paid Reid’s tab, and the three of us walked into the late evening sun.

The streets were quiet, nearly empty, and they hadn’t been that way when we’d entered the tavern.

I tensed as I searched the deepening shadows.

Reid staggered along, his notes tucked under his arm.

He looked over his shoulder every few feet.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when Reid slowed at the mouth of the alley.

He shook his head. “Nothing. They wouldn’t dare at this hour. It’s still daylight. But we should…uh…go another way.”

“Reid…” Bowen hooked an arm under his shoulder. “What’s going on? Does this have anything to do with the stuff in the papers, and the man watching you inside the tavern?”

Reid faltered, nearly losing the grip on his notes. “There was a man?” He scraped a shaky hand over his jaw. “I infiltrated a gang for a story, and plan to identify each one of them. It’s fine. Part of the job these days. When I publish my article—”

“We need to move. Now.” I unsheathed a weapon as Bowen dragged Reid away from the alley. We maneuvered through the streets, keeping an eye out for anyone lurking in the shadows.

“What were you thinking, getting involved in something like that?” Bowen growled as we came to a narrow intersection.

“I needed something big. Something that would leave my mark.”

“Yeah. Great way to get attention. You’ll trade articles for a byline under the death notices.” I held up my hand, halting our movement as a shadow peeled away from a nearby building.

The man from the tavern. His blade glinted in the dying light of the sun. Another figure emerged behind us. Four more prowled from a side street, each gripping wooden clubs.

We were outnumbered six to two—plus a drunk. And the streets were still empty. Anyone with half an ounce of sense was keeping their distance .

The man from the tavern bared a set of blackened teeth, his dagger aimed in Reid’s direction.

So much for waiting for the cover of night to hide their dirty work.

“None of you wants to do this,” I said, adjusting the grip on my weapon. I cocked my head at Bowen. “See this guy? He’s killed thirty men.”

“Forty,” Bowen muttered.

“Really? That many? Impressive. Bet that doesn’t count the ones you burned alive.” I took a measured step backward, nudging Reid with me. “Or that time you used a meat hook.”

Bowen quirked an eyebrow at my choice of instruments. His lips twitched. “All right, make it sixty.”

“But who’s counting?”

One of the men slunk back into the shadows.

Bowen shrugged. “That guy, apparently.”

“Eh, who needs him? He’d make it sixty-one.”

The man with the rotting teeth let out a dry laugh. He angled his weapon toward me. “And what about you?”

I flicked my dagger with my wrist, its tip pointing toward my chest. “Me? Oh, no. I abhor violence. Nasty stuff.”

Bowen smirked.

Reid grunted loudly behind me and slurred, “He’s the worst of us all!”

A wolfish grin spread across my face as I waved the men forward with my free hand. “Guess my secret’s out.”

The first thug lunged. His club swung in a brutal arc, and I shoved Reid hard against the wall and ducked. The club whistled through the hot, sticky air as I slashed with my dagger. A howl tore from the man’s throat, blood spraying from the open wound in his forearm .

The second thug took a swing at Bowen. Big mistake. Bowen caught the club mid-swing. The man’s eyes went wide as he ripped the weapon free and smashed it into his jaw.

“Don’t move. Back against the wall,” I barked at Reid as I dodged another swing. Pivoting low, I drove my dagger into his thigh. Twisted the blade. He shrieked and dropped to one knee. I wrenched the club from his hand and knocked him out cold.

Bowen had already moved on to the third thug, leaving the one before face down in the street.

The fourth attacked from behind. I didn’t turn in time, and the wood struck me in the temple. White-hot agony exploded behind my eyes. I staggered, blinking through the blood trickling into my vision.

The gravel shifted under my boots; my balance off. I braced for another hit.

He swung again.

Bowen dove and dragged the man to the ground. They grappled in the dirt, the man's head snapping back from Bowen’s fist. I scooped up the fallen club, still dizzy from the throbbing pain, and tossed it to Bowen.

Bone crunched. Four down. One to go.

Except, I turned toward Reid, and he wasn’t where I’d left him.

My blood ran cold. He was hunched a few feet away, fumbling for his scattered papers.

“Reid…no!”

I couldn’t get there fast enough. The man with the blackened teeth grabbed Reid from behind and sank his blade into his stomach.

Reid’s eyes flared. His body jolted, and his knees buckled.

“No! ”

I sprinted for Reid as he crumpled to the ground. The man ripped his blade free. A wooden disc slipped from his fingers, landing in the street. A symbol was burned into the surface; a calling card signaling his kill.

He grabbed Reid’s papers, then darted into the alley.

I fell to my knees in front of Reid. Blood gushed from his wound, even as I pressed hard on his stomach. Bowen crouched next to me, ripping fabric from his shirt to stem the flow of blood.

But it was too much.

Reid’s eyes turned glassy, his gaze unfixed. A jagged breath sawed from his chest.

“No, no, no,” I murmured, pressing harder, knowing there was nothing I could do.

His lips moved, and I bent my head to capture his words.

“Tell Marin, I’m sorry,” he rasped, blood gurgling from his mouth. “And…” he whispered the rest in my ear. I nodded, eyes wet, throat too tight to answer.

Reid went still, his blood pooling onto the dirty stone. I hung my head.

“We need to get him off the street,” Bowen said, his voice thick. “We’ll get him into a cart and take him back to my place. Bury him there.”

Bowen let out a string of oaths and slammed his fist against the stone. I could only watch as my friend lay motionless. Gone before he’d had a chance to make things right. And now the version of us that had once laughed and traveled side by side was lost too.

** *

Night had fallen by the time I climbed the creaking steps to Reid’s rented room. His dying words still clung to me like a weight around my neck.

The door groaned open, revealing cluttered boxes, his unmade bed, and the maps he’d tacked to the wall. Maps with pins pushed into place, marking the places we’d been. My head still throbbed, the pain matching the bitter ache lodged in my throat.

It shouldn’t have ended this way, and a surge of anger washed over me.

I wanted to rail at the unfairness. To tear his room apart for what he’d done to Marin, and at the same time, I wanted to preserve it.

His notes. His work. The legacy of a man who’d just wanted to be great.

A man who wanted to be remembered. And most importantly, my friend.

We’d lost too much, and we were still losing. I was terrified our actions wouldn’t be enough. What if it all ended in an instant? I already knew how fast life could slip through your fingers, and tonight had only cemented it further.

Nothing had gone right since that last hunt. And now I knew how twisted those final days were. It shifted everything. No wonder Marin believed I’d betrayed her. Reid had conspired with the witch, but I’d handed them the perfect opportunity to set the trap.

Stepping over empty bottles, I knelt in front of the bed and pulled a metal box from underneath. The box was right where Reid said it would be. With a hesitant breath, I flipped open the clasp and lifted the lid.

Sitting on top of Reid’s journal was my compass. I wrapped my finger around the cool metal chain and removed it from the box.

It looked the same as it had three years ago when I’d tucked it inside a wooden chest and left it with a note on Marin’s pillow.

I hadn’t known Reid had switched it out with the comb until tonight.

I’d assumed the compass had gotten lost in the chaos.

Sometimes, I’d even convinced myself Marin had been wearing it when she fell.

I’d let myself believe she’d worn it in those final moments.

I scraped a hand through my hair as the night before we’d boarded the ship flooded my mind.

Marin had humbled me in the night market when I found out she’d been secretly searching for the clues to my past. Then, when she'd said those words, the ones that hinted we could be something more, I'd foolishly told her to stop searching.

I’d taken it back a million times in my head, knowing exactly how it sounded. In all my years, I'd never had anyone I cared about, never had to tell anyone how I felt, and I cursed myself for ruining the most important moment of my life.

Stop searching, should have been, stay with me.

But I never got the chance to say it. And she never saw the compass, never knew she meant more to me than any crest ever could. That the family I’d lost was nothing compared to the family I’d found. And that I’d wanted her more than I’d ever wanted answers.

With a weary sigh, I slipped the compass into my pocket and collected Reid’s journal from the box. I was back to square one with no proof. My word against Marin’s beliefs.

But I wasn’t done yet. Cass was wrong about the marauders, but she was right about one thing.

The witch doesn’t get to win.