Kaela’s head pounded, a terrible pain that came in waves. Then she heard voices. One she recognized, and one she didn’t.

Light shone, and the voice she didn’t recognize instructed her to open her eyes. She did, slowly. Her body was stiff and groggy. Her chest and ribs ached, but her head was worse, as if a vise was tightened around her skull.

“There you go,” the older stranger said, and the light disappeared. The man put the flashlight back into his coat pocket and examined her.

Derek was standing close behind him, and she tried to smile at him, but her head protested.

“You okay?” He wore a smile, but his voice was filled with worry.

How adorable.

“Yeah,” she squeaked as her ribs protested. So many questions were swimming around in her throbbing head, but until she could think straight again, the interrogation would have to wait.

“It’s hard to tell without an X-ray, but I don’t think any ribs are broken. Bruised pretty badly, but not broken. No concussion, either. You’re a tough one, young lady. Lucky too. What do you last remember?”

Kaela hissed in pain as another wave hit her head. Even thinking hurt, but she tried to remember what had happened before she went out.

“I remember being on my knees,” she started, “in front of the chief. She was about to shoot me. Then I remember seeing Rob on the rooftop. After that, I remember hearing a shot ring out, and that’s about it.”

The man looked at Derek, who nodded.

“That’s good,” the man said, standing. “My name’s George, by the way. I’m a friend of Eric’s.”

“Eric’s here?”

“That’s right. He’s down there in the bunker.”

Derek sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think we can get her down there? I don’t like being exposed like this. I have a bad feeling about the chief letting us go.”

Kaela blinked. The chief had let them go? “Why?” she breathed.

Derek sat next to her with a groan, casting a glance outside. “She said something about it being one last favor to Eric. But I have a feeling she might just want to track us. Which means, if you’re able to stand at all, I would really appreciate if we could all go down into the hideout.”

Kaela shifted, but her head forced her back down. More than anything, she wished staying in this exact spot was an option, but Derek’s paranoia was right. She would rather deal with the pain than be killed by the chief. Rotoya wouldn’t aim for the vest next time.

“Okay,” Kaela said, and she rose.

The process was slow and frustrating, and her ribs allowed her very little speed as she used the wall for support and slid up to her feet. Derek stood on her other side, keeping her balanced.

“Where’s Rob?” she asked. “I need to thank him for what he did.”

Derek remained silent, and when Kaela looked at him, his eyes were pointed at the ground. What had happened while she was out? She searched her memory, and in the darkness, a moment of clarity revealed itself. Her hand had wrapped around the cold grip of her knife, plunging it into the leg of some officer. She wasn’t sure if that was real or a figment of her imagination. She felt that cold hit her hand again, and when she looked down, Derek was slipping the knife into her palm. She took it and sheathed it against her leg.

Derek wrapped Kaela’s arm around his shoulder as she pushed off the wall. Every step she took sent waves of pain to her head and ribs.

George waited patiently at the cooler, and with his and Derek’s help, she climbed down the ladder into the bunker. She leaned against the wall until Derek climbed down to help her balance again. George slid through the entrance with some trouble and waited on the other side should she fall. She was embarrassed at needing so much help because of an injury.

Rob… If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be alive.

Derek’s silence had said it all. If he had been simply captured, Derek would have said something. He was supposed to be Derek’s replacement. One of the few times Derek’s eyes lit up was when he spoke about Rob. If only she knew what had happened, not only when she had been out, but before that. How had Derek and Lance gotten captured in the first place? Tears welled in her eyes from the pain the bright white lights were causing her head. That was what she told herself, anyway.

Lance was sitting in the desk chair, hunched over with his hair hiding his face. Eric was standing on the other side of the room, wearing a careless expression. Tension hung between them.

Neither George nor Derek seemed to notice as they led her to the bed. Kaela’s head threatened to split open as she sat and caught her breath, the pain in her ribs more annoying than excruciating.

“I know it hurts, but try to breathe as deeply as you can. It will prevent infection,” George said.

Kaela only nodded and risked a glance at Lance. A sadness clouded his green eyes, like he’d just had his world turned upside down.

“Okay,” Eric said with a clap of his hands. “Now that the gang’s all here, I think it’s high time we catch each other up.” He cleared his throat. “Obviously, I’ll go first.”

* * *

His son… his son. The words echoed in Lance’s head, banging around and trying to burrow deeper into his brain. No way—no way in hell was he that man’s son.

He’d had so many questions, so many doubts, but before he could voice any of them, the sound of creaking reverberated from above, and Eric had lunged for him and covered his mouth.

He’d smelled of death, and the darkness in his eyes matched. “You are not to speak a word of this to anyone. If you do, I won’t answer a single question you have. If you can be patient, we’ll talk about all of this. Later.”

Those words still lingered in his head, and the only thing that snapped him out of his thinking was the clap of Eric’s hands as he addressed all of them. He didn’t wait for anyone to protest and began his story.

Lance listened to it, forcing himself to focus on it, and when he finished, Kaela told hers, then Derek told of what had happened to him and Lance. The two of them caught Eric and George up on everything that happened.

“Lance,” Derek called.

Lance looked up, meeting the stares of everyone in the room. He’d zoned out. The bombshell Eric had dropped on him still hadn’t stopped blowing shrapnel around. The chaos in his head refused to settle, and the blood drained from his face as he looked at all of them, trying to keep his expression calm. Pretending in front of Kaela and Derek felt foreign now. Eric and George, however, were his biggest motivation to return to the old habit. The way Eric was looking at him told him to steel himself.

“What?”

Kaela sent him a look, but he ignored it. He calmed himself and steadied his breathing, rubbing his clammy hands on the uniform.

“I said that you should probably tell them what happened when we got captured.”

Lance opened his mouth to question why, but the sheer sadness behind Derek’s eyes answered his question. He wasn’t in a talking mood.

Lance swallowed. “Right. Right, of course.”

Lance explained everything he could remember, trying not to leave out any details. Everything had gone by in a blur, and clarifying what was stored in his mind was more difficult than it should’ve been.

“The way she looked at you,” Derek said, his arms crossed. “The way she talked to you. The chief obviously sees you as valuable.”

“And so does Eric,” Kaela said, looking at the very man whose name she uttered. Then she set her sights on Lance. “What is it about you, Lance?”

Lance’s heart hammered against his chest, and as tempted as he was to spill what Eric had told him, the threat of not getting any answers kept him silent. But as the thoughts swirled around, he couldn’t stop the questions. Does Rotoya know? Is that why she didn’t want to kill me? Does she want to turn me into one of those zombies and kill Eric for her? Is that why I can fight so well? Is it somehow… genetic from Eric? This bloodlust?

“I don’t know,” Lance finally said, his voice cracking. “I don’t know.” He glared at Eric, but his poker face remained unfazed. “But right now, we need to focus on the lead we found.”

Kaela didn’t appear satisfied with the answer, but she said, “You’re right. We need to head to the church and find out exactly what Malcolm was so interested in there.”

“Where is this church, exactly?” George asked.

Lance sighed. “It’s pretty deep in the slums of the city. Not many people even know about it anymore. It’s a ghost town there.”

“Only problem is we need to get there. If Rotoya is following us, we need a distraction to give us an opportunity to leave unnoticed.”

“So what do we do?”

* * *

“This is a terrible idea,” Lance said, sitting in the driver’s seat of the van. “And it smells like chemicals in this thing.”

“I warned you,” George said.

“Come on, Lance. Take one for the team,” Eric said, his grin as frustrating as his cane clacking against the floor. He tossed it anxiously from hand to hand. He was nervous—the first time Lance had seen him so.

“I hate this,” Lance said as George shut the back doors of the van. “I hate this so much. You realize I know sparingly little about driving, right?”

“I’ve already run you through the basics. All you need to do is cause a distraction long enough for us to get out and sneak to the church. You can meet us there after you use this.” Eric handed him the device. The cold metal in his hands should have grounded him, but it only made him more nervous. It was a symbol of commitment. He really was about to do this.

Of all the things Lance had done in the past week, he was about to do the craziest and, frankly, stupidest of them all. But he was the only one that stood a chance of being spared by Rotoya.

“Now what?” Lance asked, his chest twisting in pain. This wasn’t like fighting, nothing at all like it.

“Now,” Derek said, “you just wait. The police are coming, that’s for sure. And the moment you see something suspicious, you ram through the door and hold the chase for as long as you can. We’ll be down in the hideout until then, and I’ll wipe the computer while we still have time.”

Eric’s smile widened, and he patted Lance on the shoulder. “Good luck… and be careful.” Even with the armor on, Lance gritted his teeth at the touch, like acid on his shoulder. That it was Eric’s touch only made the feeling worse. His skin crawled.

Son. Lance shook his head. It can’t be true.

“Oh, and, uh…” Eric slid his arm over Lance and buckled his seat belt. “Safety first.”

Derek ripped the blanket from the glass door before descending into the hideout.

And just like that, Lance was alone as the others climbed down into the hideout. He was stuck in this death trap of a van, looking through the busted glass door for any sign of movement or any red and blue flashes. Thanks to the police force’s hesitation to kill him, he was the perfect candidate.

That didn’t make it any less nerve wracking. One saving grace was that none of them could see him rubbing his face and whispering curses at the steering wheel.

Minutes passed by, with Lance tiredly rubbing his face and staring out the glass door of the building. His eyelids became heavy, and as time slowly dragged along, he considered, just for a moment, leaving the van.

But then a light shone through the glass door—headlights for sure. Then more headlights appeared. He woke himself up and straightened in his seat. Cars were slowly closing in on the building.

Derek had been right after all.

The rumbling of other vehicles became louder then halted. Car doors closed, and quiet footsteps scraped the ground and splashed into water puddles.

“Give that to me,” someone said, nearly inaudible.

Lance had his hands on the keys when a voice sounded, amplified by a megaphone. “Hellooo? I know you’re in there. I gave you enough time to exchange your last words, so I think it’s time to come out, or I’m coming in.” It was the chief’s voice, that unmistakable gruff tone.

The beast shifted in Lance’s stomach as if awakening. The calm settled within him.

Lance turned the key, and the engine roared to life. He slammed the pedal down just as the police sirens flashed.

They were too late.

Lance crashed through the garage door, swerving the van and wincing as the tires screeched against the road. The van tilted sideways.

No, nononono…

Lance swore as the van hung in the air then tilted back, slamming down. A shock went up his spine on impact. He stomped his foot down on the gas and sped down the street, burnt rubber tainting his nose.

“After them!” Rotoya yelled, her voice fading in the distance. Two police cars sped after him before he even made it down the street. The few cars sharing the road with him swerved out of his way, narrowly dodging him every time. The two cars behind him blared their sirens, and the flashing red and blue lights kept his foot on the gas pedal.

He swerved down every street that led away from the slums, and a rush went through him with every dodge of a car. Adrenaline coursed through his veins.

No voices spoke in his head, but the calm settled further, and the beast continued to move in his stomach. His driving became smoother, more confident. Swerving was easier, and dodging cars became second nature. Even so, the officers gained on him.

The van wasn’t fast enough.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Lance swore, not thinking as he slammed the brakes and turned the car around. The squad cars tried to stop as well but skidded past. One of them stopped too abruptly and swerved. The car flipped over and slammed into a nearby building, shattering glass and brick.

Breathless, Lance sped off once more. The single car left chasing him was farther behind. He smiled at the victory, flipping off the car in the rearview mirror. Then he furrowed his brow, wondering why he’d done that.

His heart pounded, his blood pumped, and his skin tingled. The wind whipped harshly against his face. God, he felt so alive right now.

A flash of light caught his attention. It was too late for him to dodge the armored truck slamming into the side of the van.

It all happened in slow motion. The world spun, and glass flew through the air. Then a terrible screech sounded; he wasn’t sure if it was the voice in his head or his own. The van slammed into the ground, and Lance was thrown around, his seat belt keeping him loosely in place.

Everything was blurry until the spinning stopped. Lance caught his breath. His head ached, his leg screamed, and his arm was numb.

He turned his head, fighting through dizziness, and assessed the damage. The van was right side up. Glass was scattered everywhere. The passenger side was bent in, and the back door that wasn’t missing was wide open. He slowly turned his head again to himself to search for injuries.

Blood. He had blood on his arms. A drop of blood spilled from his face onto the airbag he hadn’t realized had deployed. Finally, his vision returned to normal, and he sat still, awaiting his upcoming fate. Plan A had failed, and Plan B was all that remained. He swallowed, tasting blood, and nearly vomited.

Footsteps pounded toward Lance, but he couldn’t move. The beast within him stirred as if reminding him it was still there. No voice whispered to him.

Two officers climbed in through the back of the van, the chief with them.

She looked furious as she ripped the seat belt off his body and pulled him from the van. Pain coursed through his body, and he groaned. The chief dragged him all the way out of the van and dropped him on the ground. Lance spat blood onto the concrete.

“Where are they?” the chief said, so close to Lance’s face that he could’ve spat more blood at her if he wanted.

“Why would I tell you that?” Lance asked, pain blanketing him.

A kick to the ribs, and Lance coughed in response, thankful that no more blood came out.

“Because,” the chief muttered in his ear, “if you do, I’ll offer you amnesty. I’ll forget you even exist. All you have to do is reveal their location, and I’ll bring you to a hospital myself. After that, we’re done. Good deal?”

Lance’s gut stirred. That word floated around in his head, a seductive whisper like it always was.

Survive.

But this time, his body gave no indication of wanting to fight. Instead, it wanted to give up, to accept the deal.

Lance almost smiled. To be forgotten and left alone—it was an offer too good to be true. And if he believed the chief would honor it at all, he probably would’ve accepted it.

Lance let silence grow tense between them for a few breaths. “Fine. I accept your deal.”

“Good. Now tell me where they are.”

Lance looked at the van then lowered his voice. “There’s a compartment hidden in the floor of the van. That’s where Eric is. Kaela’s… She’s dead. She died before we could help her. Derek ran off. I don’t know where he is. He said something about revenge for Rob.” To sell his point, Lance embraced the pain torturing his body and released a groan.

“Eric’s here? Why should I believe you?”

“Check for yourself.”

The chief laughed. “You could have avoided so much trouble if you’d just sold them out earlier. Shame. Officer Terrance.”

Lance recognized that name from somewhere, but the officer that approached the chief still had his helmet on.

“Take Lance to the car. When I ensure that he’s telling the truth, take him to a hospital. Oh, and ask Caleb for a dose of his special medicine. We want to ensure Lance here heals up quick, don’t we, Lance?”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Lance asked as Officer Terrance roughly pulled him to his feet. “I’m not taking that shit!”

Rotoya smiled at him then kept walking.

Officer Terrance dragged Lance to the car while the chief stepped inside the van.

Lance smiled and slowly reached into his jacket for the device.

His hand slipped against the cold metal, and he flipped the latch up.

Rotoya eyed the floor then paused. She crouched and felt her hand along where the compartment was. She braced her hands on it and pulled. As soon as the hatch opened, and a look of shock crossed Rotoya’s face, Lance pressed the button.

After a heartbeat of silence came a deafening boom. The van exploded in a cloud of fire and smoke. The blast sent Lance and Officer Terrance into the side of the police car.

Lance stood as Officer Terrance gawked at the van, its shrapnel scattered across the street. Car alarms sounded in the distance, and the cloud billowed into the sky. The van was nothing more than a skeleton of what it used to be, and the chief’s body was farther down the street, blown back by the blast. Her body was burning to ash right before their eyes.

“What have you done?” Officer Terrance yelled. He turned and faced Lance. “What have you done?!”

“Fuck you, that’s what.”

Officer Terrance charged him. Lance sidestepped and shoved him into the car. His head crashed into the window, shattering the glass.

While Terrance groaned on the ground, Lance jumped into the police car and drove away, the pain aching his body even with the new shot of adrenaline.

The chief. The explosion. Had it really worked? Her burning corpse was still and lifeless as he drove past, but he’d seen worse happen to her. Lance hissed at a wave of pain in his head then his arm and leg. Every movement of his muscles ached him. His leg screamed the loudest. He needed to find the others, get patched up by George, and get answers from Eric.

You’re my son. With no other sounds to distract him, Lance could hear only those words in his head. That was the first time he’d seen Eric sincere. He’d seen it right in those black eyes.

Lance found his eyes shifting to the rooftops, the streets, the cars that he passed and that passed him. He relaxed as he drove. The armor he wore served as a police uniform, and any cars or people he passed didn’t give him a second glance. However, each first glance was always filled with fear.

The streets had been so active on that night out with Kaela, but now they were nearly barren. How long would this curfew last?

At any moment, he expected the chief to appear out of thin air and fill him with holes, but the farther he drove, the quieter that fear became.

Lance drove around for as long as he could stand the pain before changing direction toward the slums. Every few seconds, his eyes shifted around as he tried to ensure that he wasn’t being followed. Sirens had sounded in the distance minutes ago, and Lance envisioned the twisted faces of the men around their fallen chief. Or worse yet, the smiles as she rose from the ashes, more vengeful than ever. He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept driving. He knew he was reaching the edge of Arachna when the buildings transformed from clean to ragged. He drove past broken windows and boarded-up buildings; barrels with fire and people huddled around them; sleeping bodies on the side of the street.

Lance wondered what was held deeper in the slums. He’d always stayed away, in the outer ring. Some of his customers told stories of how bad the inner slums were. Fighting and bodies on the street, gunshots sounding off every other hour, needles scattered in alleys, buildings covered in vines and so worn down that they seemed ready to collapse at a gentle breeze. It didn’t sound too different from the outer ring, but apparently, it was much worse.

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but as he traveled deeper into the slums, his heart sank. He passed a small bakery, halfway caved in and swathed in vines. He also passed three different bodies in only a few minutes, some in puddles of blood, others looking at him with empty, glazed eyes. The smell of fire and blood and sewage mixed in the air. How could they even breathe down here?

The pain in Lance’s head came in waves, and every slight movement in the alleyways, every shift in the shadows, had him jumping in his seat. His breathing became labored the longer he drove, the pain worsening as the adrenaline faded. Nausea stirred in his stomach and clawed at his throat.

He focused on his surroundings, diverting his attention to anything else besides his aching body. Movement shifted in almost every dark alley, as if his presence startled whoever hid within the shadows. He almost laughed as he glanced down at his uniform then at the steering wheel of the police car. He was likely the first ‘cop’ anybody in this part of the slums had ever seen.

He drove until he reached a clearing. A graveyard. Tombstones were scattered across the field, some so old that they looked as if they would crumble at a gentle breeze. So many poor souls had been laid to rest here.

Forgotten.

Lance thought of his name on one of those stones, of the very real possibility of that happening with every plan he enacted with this group. One careless mistake, and Lance would join a field of tombstones. The thought pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal. The shape of the church came into view under the moon’s light, standing hauntingly tall next to the graveyard.

The closer he approached, the more details of the church came into view. The memories of the few times he’d visited a church were faded. The matron of the orphanage had always allowed the kids that were interested to attend.

At the time, seeing the families together had made him sick. Even the lure of escaping the orphanage for a few short hours wasn’t worth having the unattainable shoved in his face. The church burned down a year later, replaced by a restaurant. Looking back, perhaps he should have gone more often.

This church, however, was abandoned, left to rot by the congregation. Just like all things, it had ended. The small cross at the top of the steeple, outlined by the moonlight, served as another memorial. A much larger tombstone among the many others.

What used to be a parking lot was now an area of broken concrete with grass and roots overtaking it. He pulled into the darkest spot in front of the church and shut the car off. The doors remained locked until the silhouettes of four people standing in front of the church doors came into view. Before he stepped out, Lance glanced at the console.

Something inside of him urged his hand forward to open it.

He flipped open the console, and a handgun slid forward. As one of the silhouettes walked toward the car, he fit it snugly in the holster at his side.

When he stepped out of the car, he could better recognize the man walking his way.

“I heard the boom from here,” Eric said. “Nice work.” Even in the dark, the taunting smile was audible in his voice.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Lance said, lacing his tone with malice. When he took another step, his leg struck him with pain. He nearly fell over but braced himself on the hood of the car.

“Are you okay?” Eric’s smile disappeared. He almost looked worried. “You look hurt.”

Lance ignored the question. “I know we meant for the explosion to slow the chief down, but the way she looked before I left…”

Eric was quiet as Lance walked around the car, but he held his hand out, his cane dangling lazily from it. “Take it,” Eric said, his tone a serious whisper, just as it had been back at the hideout.

You’re my son.

Nausea curled in Lance’s stomach, and he lowered his own voice. “Why should I accept your help? If this isn’t just another one of your cons, why would you try to be a father to me now? You weren’t for the first twenty-three years of my life. Don’t try to help me now.”

He tried to sidestep Eric’s arm, but Eric mirrored him. “Then don’t think of it that way. You’re useless with that limp. Just take the cane long enough for George to patch you up.”

Lance fumed but took the cane anyway. He wouldn’t admit it, but as he stepped forward, putting the brunt of his weight on the cane, the relief nearly coaxed a sigh out of him.

George, Kaela, and Derek were waiting for him when he reached the entrance, and George gave Lance extra support as they entered the building.

The inside of the church smelled of musty wood. The stained glass windows were faded from years of exposure to the sun. The pews were layered in dust. The sliver of moonlight shining in through the windows revealed more dust particles floating in the air.

George sat Lance down on a creaky pew, and memories came flooding back: the bright light of the sun shining in; the laughter of the congregation; the catnaps he took in the middle of the sermon, despite the matron’s futile attempts to nudge him awake. Resentment had coated his heart when the people around him greeted each other while he and the other orphans went ignored.

Unwanted.

“Derek, see if you can find some candles. I’m going to need as much light as I can get.” George directed his attention to Lance as he opened his doctor’s bag. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Lance did so, wriggling the police uniform off, pain searing through him. With George’s assistance, he relaxed on the church pew, the cool air settling in his bones.

Lance checked off the symptoms in his head mindlessly. The smell of the church lingered and fogged his thoughts with distant memories. A stain in his head, forever there, like a scar.

The faint rustling of George’s bag rose above the noise in his own head. Sleep nuzzled beside him. A muffled voice told him to stay awake.

He couldn’t.

He was too exhausted.

* * *

Kaela frowned as Lance fell unconscious, and George swore. Derek brought candles over, one by one. The light of the flame revealed the cuts, the bruises, the dried blood crusting Lance’s hair. The cane beside him fell onto the carpet.

Eric walked with a mild limp and leaned against the pew beside Kaela, his arms crossed. The man always had a good poker face, but he bit his lip. It lasted only a second, but she caught it. He seemed worried about Lance. But that couldn’t be the case. He never worried about anyone but himself, or at least he never showed it.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” she whispered.

Derek stepped outside the church while George worked. With Rob gone, she didn’t blame him for wanting to be alone.

“What is it?” she asked.

Eric smiled like he always did when he wanted to hide something. “Why, I don’t think I know what you mean,” he said.

Kaela met his stare and held it. “Something went down while I was out.” She finally broke the stare. “Something between you and Lance. And I think it had something to do with why you brought him on the team.”

Eric made a grave mistake. He stayed silent. He didn’t make a joke or try to cause a scene.

“So that is what’s eating at you,” Kaela said, resisting her own smile. “I’ve been thinking and thinking about why you chose Lance. I can agree that there’s something special about him, but it took me a while to see that. Then it turns out he can fight better than just about anyone here. Even Derek.” She paused. “Even you.”

“It’s really bothering you, isn’t it?” Eric asked, smiling. “I could tell the moment I brought him into our organization that you hated him. And when I made him the leader, you were furious.”

“Are you saying that’s why you did it?”

“No, but that does sound like me,” he said with a low chuckle. “Yes, there is a very good reason why I brought Lance onto our team. And it’s that very reason why I made him the leader while I was gone. How’d he do, by the way?”

“He had his moments, but I wouldn’t say he was much of a leader,” Kaela said. “He was as lost as we were, but we also figured it out together. As a team.”

Eric hummed. “You were all lost without me, were you?”

“You left us suddenly and gave us a new hideout and a wave goodbye as your parting gift. So yes, we were kind of lost without you.”

“So Lance managed to make you all work together? Doesn’t sound like a half-bad leader to me.”

Kaela rolled her eyes. “Yeah, since you’re so interested. You can’t even give me a hint as to what’s got you so enraptured about him?” She leaned back in the pew with a casual smile. “I think I deserve at least a hint as to what the deal is between you two.”

Eric kept that smile, composed and calm. She’d had him. For just a moment, she’d made him squirm. But he’d recovered, and now he had control of the conversation. He would either tell her or not. She was at his mercy, but if he wanted to play this game, she would play it too.

All night if she had to.

“You’re right,” Eric said, and the smile disappeared. The stare he gave her wasn’t a challenge but an invitation to stare back, to see for herself that what he was about to say next was genuine. “Lance is not just an average man.” His tone became sincere and soft. He’d never looked like this before, and despite the spark of skepticism flickering in Kaela’s chest, she let him finish. “In fact, he’s much more than average, but I’m sure you guessed that.”

He chuckled and continued. “Lance…” He paused, as if reconsidering.

Kaela found herself leaning in. She was breathless in anticipation, and she knew Eric was enjoying it.

“He’s CIA,” Eric said, his smile gone. His eyes snuffed out any amusement, and his voice was genuine. “He was given a new identity, to come to this city as a simple storeowner, nothing that anyone would suspect.”

Kaela crinkled her nose. Smells like bullshit to me. “And how do you know that?”

“The chief told me before she went crazy. She did some digging and figured it out. She always was a good detective. Knowing what she did is likely why she wanted to spare him. Injecting a CIA agent with that kind of drug could give them access to a lot of information.”

“So you brought him in… why, exactly?”

Eric huffed with a smile. “His timing in Arachna coincides perfectly with Landreau Corp’s sudden burst of popularity. I had reason to believe he was spying on them.”

Lance stirred then went still again.

“I thought if I scratched his back, then he’d scratch mine.”

“So the thing with his parents… it was fake?” she asked.

Eric nodded. “I negotiated a good deal with his superiors. If I did everything in my power to get as much information as I could on Landreau Corp, we’d be gifted a hefty sum of money and the possibility of them using our services later down the line.”

Kaela narrowed her eyes. “So why did you leave him here with us to go to Agni?”

“To meet with his superiors stationed in Agni,” Eric said. “They wanted to send me in to get information on Caleb Landreau. The rest of the story, I already told you back in the hideout. I just left the part out where I met with the superiors again and updated them on what happened.”

Kaela glared at him. His flair for drama burned like flames behind his eyes. A performer on stage, just like the Eric she knew.

“So you’re saying Lance can fight because he was trained to?”

Eric nodded, his smile replaced with a serious grimace. “I admit I thought this would be easier than it’s turned out to be.”

Kaela refused to give Eric a reaction, but her chest tightened at the memory of what Lance had done to those men. But that wasn’t professional, not like Derek was or how a trained agent would be.

Not at all.

He’d fought like an animal let out of its cage, wild and free to roam. Even Lance himself seemed frightened of it.

“How sure are you that he won’t turn us in when this is all over?” Kaela asked.

“You let me take care of that.”

Just like you took care of Malcolm? She felt another twist in her chest. “This story is completely and utterly untrue, isn’t it?”

Eric’s expression was strained, like he was about to burst out into laughter. “That’s for me to know and you to lose sleep thinking about.”

She glared at Eric as he limped away and looked up at the stained glass windows.

Kaela scoffed. That entire story was ridiculous, and the smile he sent her only proved her right. She could’ve bitten steel. She’d let him lead her into that farce too easily. Balling her hands into fists, Kaela sighed with a silent swear to the ceiling then pushed herself from the pew. Derek was just walking back into the church when—

Crash!

The sound of glass shattering rang through the church. Kaela whirled.

“What was that?” Derek said, his voice sharp as a dagger.

“I don’t know,” Kaela said. “It sounded like it came from… underneath the floor?”

Eric was already walking to the back of the church, peeking through one of the doors.

Kaela slid her hand along her knife as she eased toward Eric. Derek followed her.

“Looks to me,” Eric whispered, “like this church has a basement.” He pushed the door open wider to reveal a set of concrete stairs.

“I’m not very experienced in church,” Derek said, “but I don’t know of many that have underground levels like this.”

“Hmm,” Eric said, stepping down. “Maybe there’s a holy artifact I can steal and take over the world with.”

“Funny,” Kaela said dryly.

Derek huffed. “Thing is, we don’t know if he’s joking or not.”

Eric turned around slowly. “Maybe I’m not.” He continued down the stairs then stopped when he reached the bottom.

Kaela crept beside him, Derek on his other side. She froze.

They stood in a crypt. Past its crumbling archway, stone sarcophagi lined the room. Two more sat in the middle.

But the sarcophagi weren’t what froze Kaela in her tracks.

A man, his skin gray and lifeless but riddled with bright glowing veins, stood over one sarcophagus at the other end of the arched stone crypt. Torches lined the hall, and the man moved to the far side of the space, revealing lab equipment covering the flat surface.

Derek swore.

“No way,” Eric whispered, squinting. “I don’t believe it.”

Kaela held her knife at the ready.

“I think that’s…” Eric stood from his crouched position and stepped forward. “Malcolm Landreau?”