The towers were alert to any strange movement during the day and night. After losing one of them, security doubled. And when Darcy examined the arrows in the dead soldiers from Tower sector 6, she had only one answer, and she didn't like it at all.

The same arrows that killed Trytan and those in the carriage, which meant that perhaps these murders led directly to someone Raux didn't want to admit. But anyway, what would she lose if she went after it and ended it once and for all? Gwenda was no longer here, so Darcy wouldn't feel restrained to do so, she could go to that casino and leave it in ruins. After all, everything pointed to him, to the man who destroyed Gwenda's mental health. Or rather, one of them.

But she couldn't...

If she came face to face with Rubben, what exactly would she do? Maybe she would turn around, unable to look at his face and see all the evil he had done to her agent, accompanied by the monster's laughter in his footsteps.

There is so much in the shadows, so much that was hidden from Matchstone, that Darcy began to feel in her soul, as if she were in Gwenda's place. So advancing against the agent's enemies wasn't an action she could take, she didn't have the strength for it.

They were almost at the end. She might have ended up in the right hands, but now... there was probably no escape.

— Raux. — Someone called her, and she turned in the direction of the voice.

Ramelia was standing there, studying the sector 3 boss from top to bottom. Her friend.

— I was just thinking.

— You know there's a way to win this. — Ramelia spoke right after.

Darcy shook her head.

— I don't know. There's a storm coming, we don't know what the costs will be. — She made a point to step away from Gwenda's grave.

Ramelia reached out and stopped Raux.

They took a while to look at each other, but the sector 9 boss dragged her hand to the colleague's shoulder and held it firmly. Darcy looked at that affectionate touch.

— The costs are the same. — Ramelia replied — Just more stringent. We must be ready.

Raux looked up at her friend. That lively fire in Ramelia's pale eyes always left Darcy weak, just wanting that same fire to run through her own body. But was tired. And nothing was in her body, not even in her mind. Just empty.

She removed Ramelia's hand from her shoulder.

— We don't need to pay when we can avoid it.

Darcy stepped away.

— You yourself said that Gwenda made her choice, now we're just cleaning up the mess she left behind.

It's true. She had said that in the meeting, she had thrown a bomb at someone who was particularly dead but...

Raux ran her fingers over her mouth, a habit she had when she was irritated.

— And you said you could handle it. You sent your agents to investigate Rubben. You sent Ethan Sinclair to do that job, didn't you? If you want to blame someone for the consequences of Gwenda's actions, blame Rubben, blame Arth Cheack, blame Yago Matchstone, Mary Jane Oxwinder, the last ranger, blame Átila Killian, but don't you dare point the finger at Gwenda when any life she may have had has been destroyed. And who is Ethan Sinclair? An agent with a merchant mother. An absurd story, a complete lie. Unreal. — Raux wasn't sure if she was breathing — Where was he that morning? Where was Ethan Sinclair when the damn arena was about to collapse long ago? Where was he when Gwenda was killed? — Darcy kicked a gravestone, which shattered — You have no idea how much I wanted to be there. — She pointed to the ground, to what was under the earth — Now, in this moment, where it seems like a sanctuary for disturbed minds, the silence that many desire. Are you getting it? I've lost everything, all that's left to me is a bunch of shit.

Ramelia stared at her, immobile. She was letting Raux vent, she realized, letting her remove that lethal hatred she felt for the lies told and failed fights.

In that meeting, Darcy felt mourning turn into relief, which turned into fear, which turned into pain and hatred. The feeling of revenge had never been as strong as at that moment.

There was a reason she had put Gwenda and Ryxer to work together. Keeping the agent in line had always been difficult, but maybe... maybe Ryxer's past canceled out hers and the friendship between the two made her mentally healthier. Nonsense, it had always been nonsense. She still couldn't believe she had the courage to think like that.

Yes, Rubben had hired someone strong, had found someone, and Ethan Sinclair had gone to solve it, just as Ramelia had claimed. But, something didn't make sense, didn't fit. Darcy was trying to fit the wrong piece of the puzzle, but couldn't find the right one, there was no way. She was... she was tired.

For the first time in a long time, she admitted it. She was terribly tired.

Raux took a deep breath, feeling the cemetery air pierce her lungs.

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They hid something in the meeting. Ramelia hid something from Darcy, they all hid. The three of them hid. Deb was too quiet, even if it was something normal.

They knew the arrows were Rubben's from the beginning. Darcy knew, and yet she didn't tell Gwenda, she couldn't see her agent go after the man who left her in ashes, she couldn't see her more destroyed than that. A cowardly, selfish act, and she still would have avoided revealing something like that several times. Gwenda could be caught, imprisoned as soon as she set foot on Rubben's property. Or even killed. And Raux... she couldn't bear it.

Nothing beyond what Darcy knew was discussed in the meeting. She couldn't figure out who was hired to assassinate Trytan and his companions in the carriage, but Rubben was involved, and she couldn't let it slide.

And Vannyer would do something stupid, of course. Rubben could be very persuasive, and when it came to Ryxer, Gwenda's old colleague, things could get messy. She had handed the Trytan case to him, maybe then he would gather more concrete evidence of something Darcy hadn't seen. Raux blamed herself for basically using her agent, but she had to do what was necessary.

— I know you want your unattainable eternal rest, Darcy.

The way Ramelia pronounced her name. Raux swallowed hard.

— I know. But what... what about her? — Darcy didn't need much time to understand that Ramelia was talking about Gwenda. — What about me?

Her legs trembled, but Darcy didn't look in her direction.

She hadn't thought about that. She didn't even have Ramelia in mind when she left, when she could finally rest.

— You be happy for me. — she replied, then she faced her friend. — You be happy.

— There's no happiness in that.

— No. — Raux agreed. — There isn't.

Darcy turned around, walking bent among the tombstones, through the fog that was forming in the late afternoon.

This would end, one way or another, it would end.

----------------------------------------

She had arrived at the sector as the stars began to emerge, one by one, praying for a body, pleading not to destroy destiny, screaming for a pure soul.

Darcy closed her eyes as she slumped into her armchair in front of the desk full of paperwork. Contracts, invoices, letters, everything scattered around. She blinked once towards Gwenda's will, the money she left to her cousin. Bruce closed Pentaneon Taurus for a few days, claiming he couldn't stay in that place without remembering what he had done. Gwenda had given him a chance, and he had spent it well, until she was gone and Bruce withdrew again. Darcy didn't blame him; she had felt the same.

Raux sighed, running her hand through her short red hair as she thought.

She was alone in the sector tonight. She had let Ryxer go home; there was no reason for him to stay down there anymore. Darcy had spent a long time sorting through Gwenda's things the day after she received the news. But now... now she wondered what the point of all this was. The lie in the meeting, the secrets, and all the events since Gwenda left.

Rubben, as far as Raux knew, had confined himself to his own casino, locking doors and disappearing completely. Rumors about such behavior were everywhere. Gwenda was on everyone's lips, which annoyed Raux.

The arena exploded with the Shooter.

Darcy Raux's servant died.

So young...

Must have gone to hell, that arrogant bitch.

They're going to seek justice for her, I think it's a waste of time. There are more needy people.

Gwenda Matchstone? Her father was hanged, and her mother burned.

Years without hearing this name... and suddenly, a shooter and competitor starts winning consecutive gold fractions, besides being a cheeky agent and a son of a bitch.

Shooter without honor.

Poor Yago Matchstone...

And that was the last straw for Raux.

The people simply tarnished Gwenda's image, without an ounce of feeling for those who loved her. Gods, Darcy loved her. Gwenda was like a younger sister, her last relative whom her heart was connected to, and she let slip through her fingers. There was nothing more she could do to mitigate the damage. She believed everything was weak, but now it was just ruins flashing in Darcy's eyes.

A pang of pain snaked through Raux's chest, in her heart, a welcome pain, welcomed with open arms. She rubbed her face with her hands.

She had gone to the Oracle years ago, received the long story of a part of her life. And to this day, even after so long, it still screamed in her mind, spun in her orbits, and begged for a solution that Raux couldn't find. It was far from being reached, very difficult to reach out for the answer. But she couldn't give up, not yet.

Ethan Sinclair hadn't gone to the sector, and he showed up with a wounded eye after the explosion. At Gwenda's funeral, he was there, his expression so dark and indecipherable that Darcy ignored thinking too much about it, about the fact that he might have something to do with it. But Ramelia protected Ethan in the meeting. Deb was steering the conversation in another direction, towards Rubben. And Darcy began to get irritated, but she accepted taking the situation straight to the neck of the man who destroyed Gwenda in every way she could find before selling her to Darcy.

Arth Cheack wasn't even mentioned. Ethan Sinclair was out of the question. But Raux saw how they reacted to the name, as nervous as a deer being watched.

The boss sighed, closing her eyes and sinking deeper as she reached for a heavy, tired hand to a piece of paper. She pulled it from under others and placed it in front of her, then picked up a quill, but left it hovering over the paper.

Shouldn't.

Darcy gritted her teeth and began, signing what she should have done long ago. She hadn't trusted her instincts, had thought about giving up and letting it go, but now there was no room in her body and mind for surrender.

It didn't take long for him to arrive. The heart of the meeting, the one who called everyone together. In the darkness where only a weak lantern was lit in the corner of Darcy's table, a body almost twice her size entered through the door, thumping his feet on the floor in a reassuring march. The hood covering his face as he always liked to do. The scent of coppery jasmine tingled Raux's nostrils, and she felt her head spinning.

She watched as he placed his firm, smooth-skinned fingers over the paper and pulled it off the table. She watched as he turned around, without a thank you or goodbye, without a single word from that hoarse and attractive voice, vocal cords that the gods molded with their own hands.

And she continued to watch as he had already left for the street and disappeared into the shadows of the night, following where his cruel choice commanded him to go.

Darcy just took a deep breath and closed her eyes as the tear slid down her right cheek. Cold and lonely.