I tapped my foot, trying my best to tune out the crowd milling around the front of the Afterlife. It was the usual mix of small-time mercs puffing themselves up and trying to be seen, a few hopefuls hanging around to catch a glimpse of a real solo, and a couple fixers still green enough to think they’d find a score waiting around the entrance of the most famous solo-bar in Night City. Some of them looked like they’d be happy with a solo or two biting on a low-tier job, or any rumor juicy enough to use as leverage somewhere down the line. I leaned back, letting it all blur as I reminded myself that Rogue would keep me waiting – as usual, a calculated power play on her end.
I’d kept her hanging for a week before getting back to her about this meeting, taking my time coordinating The Pack’s moves, putting pieces in place for the op we’d soon be running against the Scavs and Voodoo Boys out in Pacifica. I’d had meetings with Netwatch, intel briefings with Deng, talks with The Pack’s netrunners on how to crack into the Rezo Agwe – all of it necessary prep work for our attack on the VDB. But now, a week after I’d left the Afterlife without meeting with Rogue, I was back, hoping to bring some of her mercs into my plan.
Rogue eventually stepped outside the bar. Her gaze gut through the crowd until she locked onto me with a hard and sharp glare. Her eyes narrowed and the only thing I saw in her expression was irritation.
“Noah,” she barked, her voice flat but with an edge to it. “You dragged me out here for…what, exactly? I’ve got a business to run, you know.”
I kept my tone casual and jerked my head toward her car. “Figured we’d go for a drive. Talk somewhere where I don’t have half the bar’s eyes on me.”
She looked from me to her car – a sleek, green Quadra Type-66 that looked like it was made to run down trouble. She sighed, clearly weighing her options. Rogue being Rogue, she wanted to know what I had up my sleeve, even if she’d sooner eat glass than admit it. With a long-suffering sigh, she marched over to the driver’s side of her ride, unlocked it, and slid in. I followed, settling into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my back and molded from years of bodies taking a seat there.
Rogue revved the engine and peeled out of the Afterlife lot with a smooth confidence. I watched her cut off a Shion just for the thrill of it as she merged with the flow of traffic in Watson. Finally, her fingers tapped the wheel in an impatient rhythm before she broke the silence.
“You got a destination in mind?” She didn’t look at me, eyes focused straight ahead. “Or did you just want a car ride to make me angrier?”
I grinned. “Anywhere with fewer eyes is good. And yea, I wanted to talk. Mostly about using your mercs on a gig.”
She gave me a sidelong glance, her face unreadable. “My mercs? You’ve got The Pack. Last I checked, you weren’t exactly hurting for muscle. Why do you need my mercs? When I gave you my number, I figured you’d be looking for a lead, or a contact, maybe a fence. Not hired guns.”
I shrugged, letting her question hang in the air as she drove, watching the city blur past. “The Pack’s occupied right now. We’re working on something bigger, something that takes priority.”
Her knuckles tightened around the wheel, and I could feel her temperature rise as she glanced over at me, annoyance flickering across her face. “Listen, kid. I don’t do well with games, and I don’t like it when people think they can play coy with me. It’s a bad look. So why don’t you drop the act? You’re wanting to buy up some mercs, and this ‘small job’ you want them to do is apparently too much for your own crew. What’s got you so tied up?”
I watched the neon-streaked city blur past us, the hum of the Quadra’s engine filling the silence. Rogue’s eyes stayed on the road, but I knew she was watching me in the reflection. I let the word come out slowly. “Scavs,” I said finally, studying her reaction in the window’s glare.
She snorted, a wry smirk tugging at her lips. “You want my mercs – expensive mercs – to go Scav hunting? Scavs don’t warrant that kind of heat, kid.”
“These aren’t your average rats,” I replied, keeping my tone calm and steady.
She shifted in her seat, frowning, clearly skeptical. “Sure, some Scavs have Bratva ties, but even so. They’re disorganized, scrap metal on a good day. Spook them off, scare ‘em from a district or two, and they’ll scurry. You’re acting like they’re some kind of network of goons.”
“It is a network. They’re more organized than you think, and they’re more connected too,” I said, turning slightly to watch her reaction. “They’ve got clients across the gangs, they work with fixers and politicians – anyone with eddies who’s looking to get something done off-record and ugly.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have dealings with the Scavs kid. People come to me for professionals. Scavs are hired amateurs at best, bloodthirsty maniacs at worst.”
I nodded, glad Rogue was a fixer with a hard line against the Scavs. Scavs had their place in Night City’s underbelly – a brutal niche that most fixers and gangs kept their distance from unless absolutely necessary. I knew that there were some fixers out there that would go to the Scavs if the job called for it. There were clues in the game that Wakako helped sell Evelyn Parker to the Scav group that was scrolling BDs in the old Electric Corp power plant.
“Yea, they’re more a virus than a gang,” I agreed. “And because of that, I need them gone from Pacifica. At least temporarily.”
She shook her head, fingers tapping against the wheel as she gave me a sidelong glance. “Sure, because that’s a quick and easy job. What’s stopping them from coming back days later? They’re cockroaches and digging them out of Pacifica is like a band-aid on a bullet wound. And while we’re at it, what’s got you suddenly interested in Pacifica anyway? I thought The Pack was more interested in the downtown area.”
I locked eyes with her, weighing my next words carefully. “Which is why I need your mercs. My people don’t have much dealings with Pacifica, and it would be foolish of us to try and storm the district to hunt down Scavs. I don’t need the Scavs gone for good, just long enough for me to get some work done.”
She let out a long sigh, her gaze still fixed forward as her fingers tightened on the wheel. “Two things. First, you seem to be missing the fact that Scavs recruit constantly. Kill a hundred of them, and you’ve got a fresh hundred tomorrow, ready to take their place. They’re not choosy about work or their morals, which is what makes them cockroach-strong. And second? You’re still holding back, and it’s starting to annoy me. This isn’t some cheesy action-BD shit where being mysterious gets you far. If you want my help, I need the full story. So quit bullshitting me and tell me what you want.”
I waited, letting a beat pass before saying, “the VDB.”
She stilled, the name hitting her like a punch. She was almost caught off guard by the sheer audacity of it. “You serious? The Voodoo Boys? You’re actually talking about going after them? In their own backyard?”
I gave a slow shrug. “Pacifica’s got potential, and they’re wasting it. I want the Scavs gone, then we take whatever they’ve got lying around. Call it startup capital. While your people clean out the Scavs, mine are taking on the VDB.”
Her expression tightened, every line on her face sharpening as she let it sink it. “That’s one hell of an ask, kid. I’ll bite. But don’t expect the VDB or Scavs to take this lying down. You better have one hell of a plan.”
&&&&&&&&&
Rogue let me off at the curb at the NCX spaceport. I turned back to her to wave goodbye and saw her giving me a look that was equal parts suspicion, annoyance, and intrigue.
“Stay out of trouble,” she said, her voice dry as sandpaper.
I smirked. “Always do.”
She raised an eyebrow, the closest she’d come to laughing, and then floored it, merging into the flow of traffic away from the spaceport and leaving me at the curb.
I made my way to the long-term parking lot. It was quiet with rows of dusty cars sitting untouched. Most of the cars belonged to corporate suits that were jetting off on business trips; they didn’t mind the exorbitant parking fees when it meant they could leave Night City far behind. I slipped past rows of Archer and Villefort car until I reached a dark blue Villefort Columbus van I’d stashed there earlier in the week – tinted front windows, reinforced frame, the kind of ride that could disappear into any corner of Night City.
I opened the back door and climbed in, shutting it behind me with a click. Sandra Dorsett was hunched over a laptop, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, her face lit only by the greenish glow of her screen. Next to her sat Mel, one of her crew’s best netrunners, equally buried in code. Neither looked up when I entered; they were so deep in the zone that I was practically invisible to them.
The cab of the van was a cluttered mess – chip bags, drink cans, and candy wrappers piled up on every free surface. They’d clearly been camped out here for days, and with good reason – out here, they were well off the city’s usual tracking systems. There was no way that the VDB would think to look for a couple netrunners hiding in long-term parking.
Sandra glanced up at me just long enough to throw me a quick greeting. “Got news,” she muttered, her fingers barely slowing down on her keyboard. “Noel came through.”
I leaned in, watching her screen as she pulled up a few files. On her laptop was what Alan Noel – our embedded Netwatch contact who’d wormed his way into the VDB’s ranks over in Dogtown – managed to steal: an unaltered copy of the Rezo Agwe interface.
“Okay. Run me through it.”
Sandra’s gaze flickered to mine with a moment of tension. “You’re sure you can get us access to their main servers?” She looked like the entire plan, and the last few days of relentless work, might crumble apart if I gave the wrong answer.
I gave her a confident smile. “Getting onto their servers is gonna be easy. Ish.”
She let out a breath, visibly relieved, and turned back to her screen, laser-focused. “Good. Netwatch came through with some preem black ICE they’ve been saving for something like this. Once you get us in, we can fry any of the VDB netrunners who are already connected to their server. Then we set up a ‘dummy’ interface as a mask over the real Rezo Agwe system, and we get to work.”
She pointed to the lines of code she was writing. “We’ve got an interface-masking subroutine that we’re gonna lay over Rezo Agwe. Anyone who looks at it is gonna think that it’s business as usual; that there’s nothing wrong with the server and that the VDB still have control over it. They’re not gonna notice that we’re flooding everything with our daemons and black ICE. Once we have Rezo Agwe under our control, any VDB netrunner who tries to jack in is gonna trip all our traps. The black ICE we got is gonna overload their neural interfaces, scramble their implants, and lock them in a batch of nastiness.”
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I couldn’t help but grin, watching the plan take shape on Sandra’s screen. If everything went according to plan – a big if – we’d be using the Voodoo Boys’ own servers to mess with their netrunners. “So, we take over their server, use this ‘mask’ to make people think everything is good, lure in their netrunner reinforcements and they all get trapped?”
Sandra’s mouth curled in a smirk, her focus still on the screen. “Exactly. Every time one of their netrunners logs in, we get access to them. By the time they realize their own network is attacking them, half of them’ll already be brain-fried.”
“And without their netrunners, they’re just muscle with fancy tech,” I said, feeling the pieces of the plan settled into place. “The Pack can handle that. You take out their netrunners, we’ll do the rest.”
Sandra’s fingers flew over the keyboard, adjusting commands, lines of code filling the screen as she fine-tuned each daemon and trap. She was dialed in, her eyes never leaving the lines of code flashing by as she tweaked the final pieces of the plan.
“How long before we’re ready?” I asked, crossing my arms and watching her work.
“Gimmie a day or two,” she said, her eyes flicking from one line of code to the next as her fingers kept up a relentless rhythm. “Daemons and viruses are all loaded, but I’ve still got some tweaking left on this masking routine. Gotta make sure they can’t tell it’s fake until it’s too late.”
“Got it,” I said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Keep at it, and if you need anything else, just say the word.”
&&&&&&
I stepped out of Diego’s truck and took in the sight of the Grand Imperial Mall. The place had an eerie, empty vibe that was creepy me out a little. It was a crumbling shell of what it used to be – hollowed storefronts with smashed glass displays, neon signs barely hanging onto cracked walls, flickering like they hadn’t been repaired in a decade. The escalators were frozen in time, leading to nothing but more decay. It was perfect: a decayed relic for a district as dead as Pacifica.
But the GIM of today wasn’t that empty. Rogue’s mercs were unloading crates of gear and weapons and setting up shop in the mall. They spread out, each one claiming a vantage point or sheltered corner, like they were staking out territory. I’d had our people clear out most of the squatters, save for a few homeless folks holding out in abandoned storefronts, leaving the place looking barely alive.
I felt a twist in my gut as I took it all in. The VDB had to be watching and tracking our every move, wondering why we were hauling in an entire team of mercs into their backyard. I’d set up a decent cover: that we were here to clean out the Scavs, not stick around the district and set up shop. With any luck, they’d buy it and leave us alone. But even with that cover, I knew the VDB had to be a little suspicious of my motives. How could they not be? The GIM was part of their stomping ground, and we were wandering into their territory with an entire army.
Once everyone was settled and all the mercs had brought in the equipment crates, I called them in close. They crowded around, the low hum of voices quieting as they all sized me up. Rogue had sent all fresh faces – no old-timers I recognized from the game or anime. If Maine and David were still working in the city, they weren’t here. I wasn’t too clear on the timeline of the games and anime. Maybe Maine had already been flatlined by MaxTac. Maybe David had already been killed by Smasher. Whatever the case, the mercs Rogue gave me were people I didn’t recognize but who were said to be all pros.
“Alright, here’s the deal.” I let my gaze move across the group, noting the way they each sized me up, calculating but respectful. “We’re hitting a series of Scav nests scattered through Pacifica. First target’s that rundown hotel south of here. It’s been a base for them – chrome-stripping, glitter dealing, the whole disgusting racket. That’s where we start. Then we hit the hideout near the old ferris wheel. After that, it’s just mopping up the stragglers. I’ve got scouts out now mapping their bolt holes, so we’ll have eyes on any escape routes before we go in.”
The mercs all nodded, murmuring in agreement as they exchanged glances. The sheer mass of mercs I’d hired for this gig said that something big was going down, and every was pretty keen to get in on the action. Which slightly worried me. All the mercs were used to quick, decisive action, and Rogue had only sent me people who knew how to handle themselves under pressure. Which was good, but it also made them impatient, ready to jump the gun. I needed them to hold steady, though – Sandra and my netrunners weren’t ready yet, and until they were, we couldn’t risk breaking our cover.
I glanced over at Cyndi and Diego, hanging back and watching the whole scene with quiet curiosity. Cyndi was leaning against a cracked storefront wall, arms crossed, a faint smirk on her lips as if she was already imagining the chaos to come. Diego, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to leap into action at the drop of a hat, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.
“We’re looking at another day, minimum,” I told the gathered mercs. “Our scouts are still combing the district, trying to make sure they know where all the Scavs are. Once we got the intel, things’ll move fast. So tell your teams to rest up but stay sharp. We’re gonna need everyone on their toes the second we get the green light.”
Cyndi and Diego exchanged glances, both clearly eager to ask me questions but knowing better than to press for details. Around here, any wall could have ears or eyes – the VDB had no shortage of dark corners and forgotten nooks in the GIM to stash a camera or bug. It was best to keep everything casual, so I strolled around and checked in with Rogue’s people, making sure they were settling in without drawing too much attention.
After some time, I slipped away from the crowd and drifted towards the mall’s quieter hallways. The echo of my footsteps bounced off the cracked tile and faded posters, remnants of a forgotten time. A few homeless had claimed parts of the mall, their wary eyes tracking me as I passed by. They’d made themselves as comfortable as one could here, with sleeping bags and makeshift shelters tucked into dusty storefronts, filling spaces where mannequins once displayed the latest fashions from a different area. The Pacifica homeless had even less than any of the homeless with The Pack, but soon enough, I’d give them something better. Once we drove the VDB and Scavs out of Pacifica, the homeless would have a place with The Pack, finding loyalty and a home with us.
The GIM was going to be more than just a hideout for The Pack – it’d be its heart. Sanctuary and power center all in one. I could already picture it: the old storefronts alive again, neon signs flickering to life, brightening up the once-abandoned spaces. Pacifica’s nights would be vibrant, buzzing with life and purpose. Right now, it was a wasteland, a battleground where the VDB couldn’t care less if the independent operators tore each other apart. But with a real gang running things, a gang with the muscle to enforce order, this district could thrive.
And the eddies? We’d be swimming in them once Pacifica was ours. Everything we earned would go back into the district – into people, into rebuilding, into growth. With a little luck, we’d catch the eye of the Night City council and get them interested in investing enough to make Pacifica more than just a forgotten battleground. There’s be no other district like it, and with The Pack steering things, this place could be something Night City hadn’t seen in years – a district with a pulse, a purpose, a future.
I found a small alcove and leaned against the cool wall, pulling out a tablet I don’t remember ever buying. The screen flickered to life, lighting up with a detailed map of Pacifica. I zoomed in and scanned the routes we’d charted to hit both the Scavs and the VDB, tracing each line with a finger as I mentally mapped out the plan.
The Scavs shouldn’t be too much of a problem. They were opportunistic parasites that preyed on the vulnerable – kidnapping, stripping people for chrome. With Rogue’s mercs leading the charge, the Scavs were barely a blip on the radar. They’d be target practice, done and dusted in minutes.
But the VDB? They were a whole different beast. And they weren’t even united, which made things so much more complicated.
The main threat was Maman Brigitte’s group, holding down strongholds at the Batty Hotel and the old Pacifica Serenity Bible Church. They were ruthless, unforgiving, and the creepy netrunning boogie men of Night City. They were the ones who’d launch the relic heist from the game, fry Evelyn, set up V, and put the fear of God into anyone even considering operating on their turf.
And then there was the splinter faction of VDB based out of Dogtown, led by Wilky Slider. He was an ex-VDB loyalist, a blind netrunner who split from Brigitte over some ideological clash. His crew was aligned with Barghest, the Dogtown gang that kept outsiders at bay. While Slider’s people kept to their own in Dogtown, they were just as brutal as Brigitte’s people in Pacifica. And I knew that if we wiped out the Pacifica VDB without taking down Slider, we’d end up with a fresh threat from Dogtown before we’d even settled into the district.
We needed to hit both groups, simultaneously. Which is where Alan Noel came in. Netwatch had planted him as an undercover agent with Slider’s Dogtown crew, and he’d been able to slip us some valuable intel. Thanks to him, we had maps, floor plans, and enough operational data to be able to make a play for Slider’s people. But even with the intel, I couldn’t shake the uncertainty. Taking down Brigitte’s team here in Pacifica was going to be rough enough. But Slider’s people were embedded deep in Dogtown, and their alliance with Barghest gave them an edge I couldn’t ignore.
Luckily, I had an ace up my sleeve – Anna and her crew. She’d been camped out in Dogtown for a few days now, using a crumbling old building as a base. Bit by bit, she smuggled her team - a handful of ex-cops turned Pack loyalists – through weak points in Dogtown’s walls, embedding themselves right under Barghest’s nose. By now, The Pack was already one of the largest, most organized presences in Dogtown, even if nobody there realized it yet. We didn’t have the numbers or firepower to go toe-to-toe with Barghest directly. At least not yet. But when it came to taking down Slider’s netrunners? I was betting Anna’s team would be enough.
I flicked through the images on the tablet propped up on my knee, trying to visualize each step of the plan against the VDB. The maglev tunnels would be our entry point – Reed and I would lead a team right under the VDB’s noses, moving carefully through the tunnels toward the Bible Church. Once inside, we’d have to face whatever netrunner defenses the VDB had set up to guard their server. If we could take out those sentries, we’d be able to gain access to the Rezo Agwe servers themselves.
Netwatch’s black ICE and viruses had been cooking for years, just waiting for the right moment to be unleashed. With a little luck, the malware would dig into Rezo Agwe, frying every VDB netrunner still wired into their own network. Then, we’d rig the servers with traps, turning them into a digital minefield for any netrunner foolish enough to try reconnecting.
With Rezo Agwe compromised, Rogue’s mercs would move in on the Scavs, starting with the southern hotel where they’d built their little chrome-stripping empire. After clearing that nest, they’d take on the ferris wheel – a Scav holdout with just enough cover to put up a fight but not enough to hold it. The whole op would make plenty of noise, kicking up the kind of distraction that should draw out the VDB in droves, giving us the cover we needed to hit every known VDB location across the district.
While we kept the pressure up here in Pacifica, Anna would lead her team into Dogtown. It would have to be fast and surgical; a full siege would attract the attention of Barghest, and if Colonel Kurt Hansen knew we were making moves on his turf, it’d be over fast. So, Anna’s strike team would go in, take down Slider’s netrunners, and get out clean before Dogtown even knew what hit them.
Alan Noel was the wildcard. He’d promised to haul out every byte of data he could manage when we started our attack on the VDB, but I knew he’d keep the best bits for himself and Netwatch. If the op went smooth, he’d slip away with a treasure trove of Dogtown’s dirtiest secrets, feeding Netwatch all the blackmail Wilky Slider’s people were able to gather, and leaving us with little more than scorched earth. Still, any scraps he left behind could give us some leverage. Plus, I’d have Sandra and our netrunners ripping into Rezo Agwe to uncover whatever intel Brigitte’s crew had managed to collect.
A strange chill ran up my spine. I looked up, and my eyes locked with one of Rogue’s mercs, moving slowly across the dusty floor of the GIM. He was staring straight at me and there was something in his look that made me uneasy. As our eyes met, he slowed, and a sly smile spread across his face.
I was on my feet in a heartbeat, my instincts pushing me to react before I even realized it. Bullets tore through the air where I’d been sitting just seconds before. The merc’s Lexington, pulled in a flash from his jacket, sent a storm of rounds my way, each one shredding through the old concrete around me, kicking up plumes of dust and broken stone. I dove behind a crumbling storefront, heart pounding as the merc rushed at me.
This guy was no Scav or trigger-happy street punk. His movements were smooth, calculated – like every step was learned over the course of hundreds of kills. He was working on muscle memory alone, perfected over at least a decade of real experience. I realized, in that heart-stopping moment, that for all the fights I’d survived since landing in Night City, this was different. It was like I was finally facing the real thing after shadowboxing for far too long. Right now, I was the rookie staring down a beating I might not survive.
Desperation pushed me to try a quickhack – a reboot optics to throw him off – but his ICE was rock solid, shutting me out and bouncing my hack like I was some gonk with no idea what I was doing. I swore under my breath, fumbling as I drew my Kenshin. I tried peeking out to line up a shot, but he let loose with his Lexington and I had to duck back. His rounds tore past, grazing concrete, each one closer than the last.
Then he blurred.
His figure shifted almost faster than my eyes could track and my blood ran cold. Of course he had a Sandevistan. I’d never faced someone running that tech before. Whatever advantage I thought I’d had by staying on the move was gone – he was on me, backing me into a corner that I’d have no chance of escaping.
My grip slipping on the Kenshin, my hands slick with sweat, and I scrambled to find any edge, any opening. My pulse roared in my ears as he closed in, relentless. It was only a matter of time before he put me in the ground. I was fucked and I knew it.
Then Cyndi and Diego crashed onto the scene. Relief barely registered for me as the merc, realizing his time was limited, rushed to finish me off. Cyndi sprang forward, her mantis blades gleaming as she lunged, her eyes focused, feral. But the merc pivoted and kicked her square in the chest, sending her skidding across the broken tiles of the GIM. I couldn’t risk a glance to check if she was okay. I was barely in control enough to get my Kenshin up and squeeze off a few rounds. But I was panicking, skipping the charge-up on my gun, and instead of tearing through him, my bullets just pinged off high-grade subdermals.
Diego surged forward without hesitation, fists raised as he closed the distance. They both fought like madmen. Each strike landed with bone-jarring force that echoed across the empty mall. The merc shrugged the hits off, almost mechanically, and dodged Diego’s grabs with that same unsettling calm. Every motion was precise, every dodge cold and calculated, like he was moving through a checklist. Diego poured everything into his hits, giving it all he had, but the merc moved like a dancer, flowing around with a lethal efficiency. I tried lining up another shot, but the merc maneuvered Diego into my line of sight, blocking any chance I had to fire.
Cyndi struggled back to her feet, her eyes blazing. She activated her Berserk implant and let out a raw, guttural scream, her speed and power cranked up to match the merc’s Sandevistan. She dodged another lightning-quick kick, ducking low and driving one of her mantis blades deep into his side, tearing through armor to hit the flesh underneath.
White borg fluid poured from the wound, staining the ground, but the merc barely reacted. He spun, delivering a vicious backhand that caught Cyndi across the jaw, sending her stumbling back. Diego was there instantly, taking advantage of the merc’s attack on Cyndi to put the guy on the back foot. He grabbed the merc’s arms and pushed, forcing him back a step, then two. It was like he was trying to wrestle a boulder though. Diego was able to match him muscle for muscle, grit for grit, but the merc just wasn’t going down.
I tossed my Kenshin aside, realizing that I needed something more surgical than a gun in this mess of fists and fury. I unspooled my monowire and searched for an opening. Cyndi circled back, her mantis blades shining, a trickle of blood running down her lip but her eyes fierce. She and I split, moving in sync to flank the merc, me on the left, her on the right. She feinted just long enough to grab his attention, giving Diego the opening to slam a punch right into the merc’s jaw. He staggered, just for a second, but that was all we needed.
Cyndi drove her mantis blades into his side again, piercing deep and twisting, white borg fluid pouring out. I swung my monowire, catching his right arm, activating the wire’s edge and pulling, cutting his arm from his body in one clean move.
The merc hit the ground, his body shuddering with each ragged breath. Cyndi stepped forward, her blades raised to finish him off, but I lifted a hand, stopping her.
“Wait,” I said, voice raw and shaking from the adrenaline. I kept my gazes locked on the merc’s fading eyes. “I want him alive.”