Lance watched in horror as Kaela slumped to the ground, her head striking the concrete.

The chief stood in front of her body, her face covered in shock and her hand clenching her pistol. Smoke trailed from the barrel.

Rotoya coughed, and blood spilled onto the ground. Even more poured from her neck. Her pistol fell from her hand, and she crumpled to the concrete.

In the moment of blind panic, Derek took advantage of the distraction and turned on the guard behind him. He wrestled the rifle from him and smashed it through his visor. The officer went down, and Derek sprayed a hail of bullets into the crowd of guards.

Lance waited for the guard behind him to fire, but he didn’t. Instead, his attention was directed at the fleeing Derek. Another rifle shot rang out from the rooftop, and the guard dropped like a brick.

“Lance, come on!” Derek yelled.

Lance eyed Kaela as he allowed that twisting feeling in his stomach to churn, that killing calm. Whatever beast writhed inside of him hissed and demanded he attack. Holding it back had taken all the strength he could muster. Now, looking at Kaela’s still form, he decided that what happened next didn’t matter. He allowed the beast full reign.

Eleven guards surrounded him, but most of their focus was on Derek popping shots at them from the alleyway. Kaela lay on the ground near one of them, surrounded by the bodies Derek had left.

She was still.

Lance closed his eyes and breathed. The scent of honey poisoned the air. He didn’t think. He stepped back and let the voice within him take over as it whispered.

Survive.

His body moved without him. He grabbed the pistol on the ground behind him. One of the guards pointed his rifle at Lance. Lance wrenched the rifle aside and fired the pistol into the guard’s helmet. He collapsed.

Rifle in hand, Lance fired at the rest of the guards. They scattered and dove behind police cars. The gun jolted Lance’s arms with every pull of the trigger, and four of the guards weren’t lucky enough to find cover, purple spraying from their bodies as they fell to the ground, limp. The empty casings clinked against the concrete as the remaining guards hid behind their armored vehicles. If only they knew Lance was out of ammo.

Six left.

Lance dove behind the nearest police car and slid across the rough concrete as gunfire rang out. Bullets sprayed against the car. Windows shattered, and sparks flew from the metal doors. Lance curled into a ball and waited for the bullet storm to subside.

“Smoke him!” one officer yelled.

Lance told his body to dash into the alley where Derek was, but when he tried to commit to the action, his body refused. Refused.

His own body told him no, so he lay there and waited as smoke grenades flew over the vehicles and landed near him. He stared at Derek, and as the smoke rose, he finally stared back. Lance nodded to him, a silent message that he could go. Go check on Rob. Derek nodded and disappeared from view as the smoke thickened and washed away anything that wasn’t a few feet in front of him.

I hope you know what you’re doing, Lance said to whatever was controlling his movements.

His response was a twisting in his stomach.

Lance stood in the smoke, his footsteps as silent as a jaguar’s as he walked. He closed his eyes. Heavy footsteps drew closer, surrounding him. His body ignored the cold metal of the gun in his hand and the stuffy feeling of the smoke as he calmly breathed it in. The men closed in, and he took the magazine out of his gun.

The sound drew their attention, and Lance dropped to the ground and rolled as gunfire rang out. A few bullets grazed much too close for comfort.

He stood again. One guard was much closer than the others.

Three, the bone-dry voice in the back of his mind whispered to him. Two. He forced himself to breathe deep. One.

Lance dodged under a strike from an officer’s gun and threw the magazine into the smoke. Metal clanged against a helmet, then a man hit the ground with a thunk. He threw the rifle through the smoke like a spear, and just like the clip, it found its mark in one of the officers’ helmets. The sound of the visor shattering sent satisfaction swimming in his chest.

He hated it.

He dodged another swing of a guard’s gun and shattered the man’s leg with one swift kick. He ripped the helmet from the guard’s head and kicked again, purple blood splashing from his nose.

When silence overtook the street, Lance called out, “Kaela? Kaela, are you—”

His words were cut short as something hit him in the head. A flash of light blinded him, then darkness came. His ears rang, and heat spread through his body. As his vision began to return, a dark figure stood in a background of smoke, and before he could try anything, the figure wrapped its hands around his neck and squeezed.

But then the figure screamed in pain with the voice of a woman and looked down. Lance followed her stare to Kaela, her hand firmly wrapped around a dagger planted in the guard’s leg.

Lance used the opportunity to kick the woman away.

The sniper fire had yet to return.

The figure reappeared, and Lance’s vision cleared, transforming the shadowy figure into the chief herself, the hole in her chest gone, replaced by the red sinew and muscle of her body. Her skin slowly grew over it.

“You didn’t think a little bullet would kill me, did you?” Rotoya smiled. “Get up.”

She said it so quietly, but Lance didn’t know who she was talking to until, one by one, as the smoke cleared, all the officers rose—broken legs, bullet holes, it didn’t matter. They all stood and stared at Lance. The ones who still had guns pointed them at him. Kaela had gone still again, her dagger sticking out of the chief’s leg. But the chief wasn’t reacting to the weapon at all, as if she no longer felt it.

“You.” The chief pointed at Lance. “You’re not half bad, fighting off as many of my men as you did. Alone? I underestimated you when we first met. I’m impressed, Lance.”

His gut twisted at the sound of his own name in her mouth. Even as she spoke, the skin of her chest was slowly growing back, as if he was watching a time lapse.

“However,” she continued, “I am much less impressed with your friend. Bring him in.” Again, she spoke as if to no one, but seconds later, the sound of heavy boots on concrete and something dragging behind them grated Lance’s ears.

Lance turned and couldn’t suppress a gasp. Two officers, covered in purple blood, their armor torn and broken, dragged an unconscious Rob to the chief’s side. They dropped him like a sack of fish in front of her, and she pressed her boot to his chest, a smirk on her face.

Two more officers came, leading Derek to Lance. Derek had a black eye and a bleeding lip, but other than that, he seemed fine. A scowl shadowed his face. A prick of fear poked at Lance’s chest. He’d never seen such a darkness in Derek. Never.

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Derek stood beside Lance, and the guards backed away from him, returning to Rotoya.

Despite Lance’s urging, the killing calm didn’t return. It had left the moment all the officers revived, as if the instinct itself had deemed the fight hopeless.

Or perhaps it didn’t think Lance was in danger.

The chief crouched next to Rob, who stirred finally as she dug her boot deeper into his chest. The moment he groaned and blinked himself awake, she smiled at Lance and Derek and held her hand out expectantly.

“Rob, get up,” Derek said, his voice breaking. “Do you hear me? I said get up.”

In seconds, an officer shoved a pistol into Rotoya’s hand, and the chief had no more words, no more remarks or smirks. She simply pointed the gun down at Rob and fired.

And fired.

And fired.

And fired.

Rob flinched at the first three then went limp for the rest. The chief shot until the pistol was empty, and when she was done, it was impossible to tell where the bullets had hit. Blood painted his torso, and a puddle formed beneath him. His shocked face was pointed at the night sky, his eyes blank and glazed over.

“Next time, bring someone a bit more… durable.” The words were a mere happy hiss out of the chief’s wicked grin.

Derek twitched like he was about to charge her, but even he seemed to realize that whatever he did, it would be for naught. Still, every muscle in his body tensed, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“But you all fought decently. Even sweet little Kaela got in a nice hit.” She ripped the dagger from her leg and tossed it at Derek’s feet. “She’ll be wanting that back.”

“You’re letting us go,” Lance said flatly. “After everything that just happened, you’re letting us leave?”

“I had fun tonight. I like hunting you down. But I’m waiting for Eric to return to start the real fight. Now, that man knows how to play the game. You three take it way too seriously. Once he gets here, I can kill you all… Well, maybe not you.” She pointed at Lance. “You could be useful to me.” She turned around then looked at Rob’s body. “We’ll be taking him, by the way. Don’t worry, we’ll ensure he has a proper burial. I know how to be respectful when I want to be.”

Derek cursed her. “You don’t really think we’re going to let that happen, do you?”

The chief didn’t even bother turning around. She just reached a hand out for a nearby officer to hand her another gun and pointed it at Kaela.

The chief smiled and said, “I could always just kill your other friend too.” Her smile was gone, and her eyes flickered with irritation. “I’m being nice here. A favor to Eric for the years of partnership, if you want to think of it that way.”

Anger twisting his features, Derek took a step forward, but Lance stopped him. Rage was blinding him from seeing the consequences of charging her. They’d already wasted too much time.

Derek settled down, the fury in his eyes dying as Lance planted a hand against his chest. The chief chuckled and walked away, back into Landeau Corp, as if nothing had happened. Two officers picked up Rob’s body and carried him inside, blood dripping on the otherwise clean lobby floors.

Lance looked around. The streets were mostly empty, save for the few officers left guarding the entrance. The civilians looking out their windows had all disappeared.

“I’ll get Kaela,” Derek said, his voice a low growl. Once she was secured in his arms, they slinked away into the shadows. “I don’t like that she’s letting us go.”

Lance eyed the rooftops as they walked, pretending not to notice a shadow disappearing from view. “So you see it too?”

Derek nodded.

“What do you want to do?”

“Keep going. I have an idea.”

“What about Kaela?”

Derek sighed. “I don’t know. The vest took the hit, but she might still have some broken ribs. And she hit her head pretty hard on the concrete.”

“I meant what are we going to do with her?” Lance asked. “If we’re being followed, then anywhere we take her puts her at risk.”

Derek was silent until the hideout was in view. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s—”

“My fault,” Derek repeated. “Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I’m responsible for what happens to the people that work for me. And Rob’s death is because of me.”

“I don’t mean to make things worse by saying this,” Lance started, carefully eyeing Derek’s reaction. “But why exactly do you think they decided to keep Rob’s body?”

Derek growled. “I’d like to think it was a way of spitting in our face, not letting us bury our own dead.” He let a moment of silence pass. “I hope that’s what it was.”

“What else do you—”

“Shut up.”

Lance glared at him. “Look, I know it sucks, but you have to at least consid—” He stopped when he followed Derek’s stare.

They’d reached the hideout. The rightmost garage door had lost its chain.

Someone had gotten into the building.

And they had no weapons. Except…

Lance reached around Derek’s hip and took Kaela’s knife out of his pocket. Derek didn’t protest as Lance inched closer to the shop, unable to peek through the glass door with the taped blanket covering it. The whispers were silent, and nothing wriggled in his stomach. He slipped through the entrance to the shop, gesturing for Derek to follow.

Lance froze when he stepped in. A white van was parked in front of the garage door that had been opened.

“Shit,” Lance muttered. “Please tell me you know someone with a van like this.”

“No,” Derek said. He laid Kaela down gently against the wall.

Lance waited for the calm to settle over him, but it didn’t. Surely it would when he needed it, right?

“Here,” Lance said, handing the blade to Derek. “I don’t need it.”

“I’ll search the van,” Derek said, taking the knife. “You try to sneak down into the hideout.”

“Aren’t you the sneakier one?”

“Aren’t you the one that took down almost ten guys by yourself?”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but no arguments came to mind. He padded to the ice cream cooler. The floor panel was still firmly shut.

Carefully, he slid the panel open, flipped on the string lights, and peeked down the ladder to the bottom. No sight of anyone yet. As he took one last look at Derek, who was opening the back doors of the van, Lance slid himself into the opening and climbed down the ladder. Nearly every rung creaked. I swear it didn’t creak this loud before.

With the killing calm still quiet within Lance, fear took its place. Even his stomach was calm, no twisting or slithering within. Something was wrong. It was as if the killing calm had abandoned him.

Not that he missed that dry voice.

Every step lower into the main room of the hideout was like falling a mile deeper into the ocean. Finally, he reached the bottom step, but before he could turn around, cold steel was pressed against his throat.

A voice even colder than the blade hissed in his ear. “Tell me how you found this place. Did you follow us?”

That voice. “Eric?”

The steel lifted, then a hand grabbed Lance’s shoulder and whirled him around. He wrenched himself free of the grip, his shoulder burning at the touch.

“Lance?” Eric stared him up and down. “I thought I recognized that hair, but… why the hell are you wearing a Landreau Corp uniform?” He inspected the outfit. “Wow, looking at these things up close, they really are ugly. You’d think Landreau Corp would have some fashion sense.”

A hundred questions flooded Lance’s head, but Eric was already walking through the metal door into the hideout.

“Where’s Derek and Kaela? You didn’t get them killed, did you?” He chuckled and sighed. “Nah, I’m sure you didn’t.” He slid the blade back into his cane, an infuriating smirk on his face.

After all they’d just been through, Lance was not in the mood for Eric’s jokes. The calm was still gone. The urge to punch him in the face was all Lance.

“Kaela’s hurt,” Lance said simply, walking into the hideout.

An older man was sitting at the computer chair. He appeared shy, withdrawn, definitely out of his element.

“Eric, please tell me you didn’t kidnap someone from Landreau Corp.”

“You said someone was hurt?” The man stood. “I’m a doctor. If you show me where she is, I might be able to help her.”

Eric said, “He’s a friend. His name’s George. Don’t worry, we can trust him.”

Lance stared into those wild eyes. “Since when do you trust anybody?”

Eric chuckled. “I trusted you to take care of things around here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, we’re going to have a conversation about that once Kaela’s taken care of.” Lance nodded to George, who rushed toward the ladder. “Derek! Someone’s coming up. He’s a doctor.”

“And try not to kill him. He’s good people,” Eric added. He sat down at the computer chair and rested his cane in his lap. “So, Lancelot, tell me. How have things been on your end of the spectrum?”

Lance balled his hands into fists. He didn’t know how Eric could be so casual after disappearing and leaving them to fend for themselves. At least he hadn’t abandoned them forever, like Lance had originally thought.

“No. You’re answering my questions first,” Lance said, more anger in his voice than he intended.

Eric tensed, and his dark eyes went cold, staring right at him. His hand tightened on the cane, and Lance could tell the blade hiding within was already calling to him.

“I want to know exactly why you made me leader. Were you hoping I would get us all killed so you could get in bed with Landreau Corp?” His heart hammered in his chest as Eric remained completely still. Maybe he just didn’t know how to react to someone speaking to him in such a way.

“I work a very dangerous job, Lance. I need someone to take my place when I’m no longer here. If I die, the web I’ve weaved in this city will untangle, and all the little bugs I have tied in it will break free and start anew. That’s not ideal for me. I need someone who can take over. Derek has Rob, and Kaela has Amari. I have you.”

Exhaustion nipped at Lance’s heels, and he leaned against the cold wall for support. The adrenaline was wearing off, and new pains emerged all over his body. His eyelids were heavy. “Why? Why me? How did I stand out in your messed-up little roster of people you can drag into your damned web?!” His chest tightened and twisted at the maddening poker face Eric had glued on.

“I… because…” Eric’s tension eased, and his grip on the cane loosened. Those dark eyes emptied of all energy, like he was shutting down. But he picked his head up and spoke, his voice softer, more sincere. He looked Lance in the eye. “Because you’re my son.”