Arachna

Eric stirred, unsure if he’d crossed over to death’s domain or if death had been too scared to allow him in. Heat stung his cheeks, and sweat beaded on his brow. The crackling sound of smoldering embers surrounded him. Surely, he was in hell.

But then he opened his eyes.

He was in the remains of the chopper, and unless the chopper had committed sins of its own, he was still alive.

Laughing hurt, but he did it anyway. Moving hurt worse. His head pounded, and as he straightened himself against his seat, his back popped and crackled. The smell of smoke and burnt metal filled his nose and tainted his lungs. The pilot sat in the seat beside him.

Dead.

His shocked expression was visible behind the broken visor, his empty eyes cast at the thick branch piercing his chest. Behind Eric was nothing but broken trees and embers. The other half of the chopper was missing. The rain had stopped, but not before putting out whatever fire had ignited while Eric was unconscious.

“Thank God for rain.”

He drew his attention once more to Jeremy.

“Not a bad landing.” Eric chuckled, elbowing the corpse. “Well, for me, at least.” Everything hurt as he shifted in the seat and kicked the broken door open enough to crawl out. He slid from his seat onto the cold ground. Sparks shot out from inside the chopper.

Eric inspected himself, and despite the soreness of his body, nothing felt broken. He stood and stretched his back, groaning as it cracked again in several places. He took a step away from the chopper.

A snap sounded from his foot, followed by a wave of pain.

Eric dropped to the ground with a groan.

Okay, maybe one thing’s broken, he thought to himself. Good thing I didn’t kick the door with this foot.

Eric picked himself up and swore with every step on his bad foot, grateful for his cane to lean on. “Thanks for the ride, Jeremy. Hope you wanted to be cremated, my friend.” He sent a wave back at the corpse.

Eric limped away from the chopper, his body screaming at him to stop moving, to lie down somewhere and rest. But he needed to get back to Arachna and set a plan. First, he would figure out what had happened to Caleb. Those glowing purple veins and that sweet smell—he wondered if that was the result of their new drug, some sort of super serum, maybe?

He shuffled painfully through the forest, searching his mind for any clue as to how a drug could turn a man into a beast. Caleb’s men had the same glow, the same purple veins. He’d seen his fair share of crazy things in his life, but that was at the top of the list.

But Eric couldn’t think about that, not now, not when he had to figure out a way to get back to Arachna. Taking a train wouldn’t be safe. Caleb’s men could be waiting for him.

A disguise? Eric thought. No, too risky. I could always steal a car. Not very classy or creative, but it should do. Eric’s leg screamed in pain. He would’ve kissed his cane for its assistance if it weren’t covered with purple blood.

He soldiered on until he reached the outskirts of the city, his eyes scanning his surroundings as he found the nearest alley to hide and rest. The warmth of the burning chopper was preferable to the cold dampness of the alley. No screams or panicked sounds polluted the air. In the distance, though, the sirens of fire trucks and police cars sang. He couldn’t have been out for very long if they still hadn’t arrived at the site. Eric leaned his head against the brick wall. The pain worsened as the adrenaline faded, and he winced and hissed through his teeth at every movement.

I need to bring pain meds with me the next time I pull a stunt like this. Eric breathed through the pain, scanning each end of the alleyway for any sign of Caleb’s goons. Now that he considered his circumstances, he realized that getting back to Arachna would take much longer than he’d hoped. At least Lance was in charge. Eric had a feeling about him. A feeling deep down that he knew what he was doing, and that when Eric returned to his kingdom, everything would be under control.

* * *

“Everything is so out of control!” Lance yelled as Kaela and Derek sat quietly on their beds while he paced the floor of their hideout. “What was that? Since when does the police chief have glowing purple veins?!” The shout stung his bullet wound, wrapped tightly in gauze from a first-aid kit Derek had stolen from the precinct.

“Calm down,” Kaela said, rubbing her temples. “We’re safe right now. We just need to figure out what’s going on. Burning a line in the floor and screaming isn’t going to help us.”

“Oh,” Derek said, his eyes widening as he lifted the back of his shirt and removed two rolled-up sheets of paper from his pants. “Almost forgot in all the madness.” He crouched next to his bed and flattened out the pages.

“What’s that?” Lance asked, glaring at the layouts and marks all over the pages. Dots and circles were peppered across the drawn lines.

“Blueprints.” Derek smoothed out the creases in the paper and sighed. “Of Landreau Corp. It’s definitely a layout of some of its floors.” He pointed at the bottom of the page, where it said just that: Landreau Corp Arachna—Main Floor.

“Why?” Kaela tilted her head. “I wonder what those marks are.”

“Maybe Eric will know when he comes back… I wonder if he’s okay. We haven’t heard any word from him, and my scouts at the edge of the city haven’t seen any sign of him.”

“I guess…” Lance stopped to take a deep breath, suppressing the frustration clutching his chest.

Rotoya was right. Eric had left them all to handle the consequences of his actions while he went to negotiate with Landreau Corp, unless he’d lied about that too and had already fled the country.

But when Lance opened his mouth to remind Derek of that blatant fact, he only said, “I guess we’ll just have to wait for him.” He would let Derek figure it out for himself, if he hadn’t already and was just in denial.

“I can go out and track him down,” Derek said, standing. “I know how to get into Agni. I could make it there on foot in a day if I’m quick, and—”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Lance crossed his arms and glanced at the entrance, halfway expecting the chief to be standing there. That sweet smell still clung to the inside of his nose, and nausea picked at him with every breath. “We need you more than ever right now. You’re the reason we managed to escape the precinct.” He rubbed his eyes. “Besides, we don’t know what it’s like out there. Even if you wait until night and try to sneak out, they may have officers patrolling all over the city for us. You’d just be putting yourself in danger for no reason. If Eric’s fine, he’ll be back. If he’s not, then there’s no point wasting time to go get him.”

Kaela blinked. “He’s right. That’s probably the most leaderlike thing you’ve ever said.”

Lance eyed her expression for any sign of a wry smile, but none appeared as she grimaced at her broken nails then back down at the papers.

Derek threw his arms up in defeat and returned to his place beside the bed. “Well, if we don’t do something, then we’re sitting ducks. If the chief has the whole police force looking for us, then it’s only a matter of time before we get caught. And waiting for Eric to get back isn’t good enough, especially if he’s dead.” He shook his head. “I think he bit off much more than he can chew this time.”

“Well, Eric will just have to deal with it for now. We need to focus on our own survival for the time being,” Lance said.

Kaela hummed at the computer. “I suppose I could try emailing Amari to bring us some extra supplies.” She stretched. “While I’m at it, I’ll email the rest of my Roses and tell them to shut down for now. Except the one on Main Street. I’ll leave that open in case we get any good info.”

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious, one of your friends coming to an abandoned building?”

“Unless she brings a man with her,” Derek said. “Like Rob. A man and a woman slinking off to an empty building can be written off easily in this city.”

A smile tugged at Lance’s lips. “Then it’s settled. Kaela, email Amari to meet with Rob. Tell them to come here with the supplies we need. We’ll make a list.”

“I’ll tell you where she can meet him,” Derek said, following Kaela to the computer.

Lance’s worry eased for now. Even so, as long as they were stuck in this city, they weren’t safe. He scratched the back of his neck as he eyed the blueprints and wondered just where Eric was.

Likely sipping wine in some luxury apartment while we suffer in here.

* * *

Eric opened his eyes, disoriented. The smell of trash and rat droppings assaulted his senses, and the events of before came flooding back: Caleb, the helicopter crash, the pain. He groaned as he lifted his pants leg, revealing the bruised and swollen ankle. He tried to move it, but it screamed in response.

A glance at the sky told him he hadn’t been out for any longer than an hour. The cold of the brick wall pierced into his back, or maybe it was just the splinters. As he tried to stand, his ears perked. He heard voices. Two men.

The first voice spoke. “That crash was pretty bad. This guy can’t be so hard to find, can he?”

The second scoffed. “I can’t believe he survived it, honestly. I’ve never seen Caleb so angry. I wonder what this guy said to him.”

Eric peeked around the trash can, the darkness hiding him in its cloak. The men were dressed in black uniforms, both with pistols holstered. Their veins weren’t glowing, and the alley was too dark to tell if they were purple or not. Leaning back against the wall, Eric shut his eyes and cursed. He rubbed at his sore neck and wished for his revolver to appear inside of his coat. He had no more explosives on him.

He forced himself to move from his sitting position, wincing from the pain. He sat on his good leg, readying himself.

The men approached, and Eric slipped his blade from its sheath. Its whine was faint and deadly. Eric held his breath as the two men walked past him. Darkness was kind and hid him well. They spoke of where they were to search next, and Eric made a mental note to avoid that direction.

Eric smiled as he rose, leaning on his cane. Then with the flip of a switch, it became a scythe. He hesitated for a breath then plunged the dagger into the neck of the first man.

The second gasped, but Eric thrust his cane upward, the scythe impaling him through his neck before he could scream.

Eric grabbed the gun from the man’s hand as he fell to the ground and choked on his own blood. He wiped his blades clean and sheathed them, checking his new pistol for ammo. He grabbed the magazine from the other man’s pistol and limped out of the alley, sunlight warming his cold back.

Despite the pain, Eric kept his smile.

Nostalgia crept up on him, surfacing memories of his childhood here in Agni: fleeing and slinking through the streets, stealing food and money any chance he got, the thrill of being chased by a policeman or having to fight a thug he’d been caught pickpocketing. This was his true element—the sneaking, the fighting, the surviving. It felt good. The pain in his leg even reminded him of the many times he’d had to make do and patch himself up. At that time, he knew nothing of black-market doctors. How ignorant he’d been so long ago.

Eric shimmied into a small space between two buildings.

Something was familiar about this spot, and Eric’s smile grew as he slid through another narrow space to a small alley.

A large crate sat in the corner.

Eric moved it and scanned for a familiar patch of wall, slightly more discolored than the rest. With a hearty kick of his good leg, the patch of wall fell inward.

For all he knew, the man that had once resided here was no longer around, but either way, having a place to hide from Caleb’s men was a godsend.

Eric went prone and crawled through the open space. Then he stood in the dark and moved the patch of wall back into place. He patted the spot and chuckled. “Sorry for stealing your tricks, old man.”

Darkness overtook him. The cold bit at his skin and even more so at his ankle.

A distant light broke the darkness enough for Eric to climb down a set of stairs ahead. With an audible groan, Eric stumbled down each step, his cane taking most of the weight for his bad leg. The light emanated from a room at the bottom, brighter the closer he approached.

Eric reached the bottom of the stairs and took a breather before knocking on the rusted metal door. He smiled at the sound of movement on the other side. The smell of peroxide permeated the air, and water dripped onto the concrete in a steady rhythm. The door opened, and a tired old face looked at him. For a moment, no recognition showed in his aging eyes, but then they sparkled.

“Eric?” the man asked, grinning.

“Hey, Doc,” Eric said with his own grin. If he’d still had his hat, he would’ve tipped it. There was no telling where that thing was since the crash. “Got a bit banged up. Think you could help an old friend?”

The doctor laughed. “Of course, Eric. Come on in. Ah, I almost didn’t recognize you with that new hair color.” He took another glance at it. “Blond just doesn’t suit you. You should go back to black.”

Eric closed the door behind him. “No chance, George.”

“So what are you doing here? I thought you were in Arachna now. Don’t tell me you had something to do with that helicopter crash.” George laughed, but when Eric didn’t respond, his smile disappeared. “Wait, did you have something to do with the crash?”

Eric opened his mouth to ask how he knew when a small television in the corner of the room caught his eye, an image of the broken helicopter placed right next to a reporter.

“Eh, not really. Though I was a passenger on it at the time.”

George scanned him up and down, taking in the bruises and cuts, and sat down in his chair for support. “You’re telling me you survived a helicopter crash with nothing more than scrapes and bruises?”

“And a broken foot, I think. I just need some pain meds and a place to sleep for the night, and I’ll be on my way.”

George burst into laughter again. “Now that’s the Eric I know. Surviving all of that, I figured it’d catch up to you one day. Alright, you mentioned your leg, so come here and let me look at it.”

Eric presented his leg, suppressing a wince as George examined it.

“Can you walk on it?” George asked, his tone suddenly professional.

Eric cleared his throat. “Yeah, but it hurts pretty bad. Made a nice little crunch when I first stepped on it.”

“And I said your cane was useless when you first got it.”

“You gotta be stylish sometimes, Doc. Never thought my wonderful fashion sense would save my life.”

George finished examining the leg before he relinquished it. He stood and turned toward his table.

Eric squinted at the bright light bulb hanging from the ceiling. “You really need better lighting.”

George chuckled. “Well, I need better everything, but on my budget, I have to make do.”

Eric shook his head and rubbed his sore throat, ignoring the nausea. “So give it to me straight, Doc. How bad is it?”

“Pretty badly sprained, for sure. I’ll give you a brace, disinfect those cuts, then I’ll look at your bruised neck there.”

“Once you’re done with that, I think you should check my back too.”

“You got it.”

“You’re the best, Doc,” Eric said with a smile.

George chuckled. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

* * *

The silence in the hideout hung over them like a fog. Kaela leaned back in the computer chair, spinning it around as she stared at the ceiling. Derek sat beside the open door of the entrance.

Lance sat on the other side of the door, twiddling his thumbs and listening for any noises. They couldn’t wait upstairs in case they were seen, and Kaela had decided against revealing how to get into the hideout in her email. They couldn’t risk it. They were foxes in a foxhole, just waiting to be burned out by the hunters.

Lance sighed and fantasized about his store. His bed and his TV awaited him in that back room, and so did his potential business.

“Lance, I mean this respectfully, but can you please stop sighing?” Derek asked.

Lance released another sigh. Derek glared at him.

“Sorry,” Lance said. “I can’t help it… I just can’t stand sitting in one spot for so long. I have to move.” He rubbed his hands together and blew on them, the cold of the hideout suddenly worse than usual.

“Before we met, you were working behind the desk of a store all day. What difference does this make?” Kaela asked.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Um, maybe because in my store I wasn’t waiting for somebody to come in and kill me.” He paused. “Actually… let me rephrase that. I wasn’t being hunted by anyone.”

Derek nodded. “That’s fair.”

Lance ignored the look on Kaela’s face and kept staring at his thumbs. Kaela turned her head toward the computer screen, probably rereading the email Amari had sent back. Lance reviewed the response in his head:

Consider it done. I’ll meet up with Rob and bring everything you requested. Muah. ;)

Just hearing from Amari had put Kaela in a better mood. One less thing to worry about. Now she seemed worried about the one Rose left open.

Lance imagined the chief barging into the Rose. Whether they would arrest everyone or kill them on the spot was the question that worried him. He could only imagine the worry tormenting Kaela.

Lance leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closed. “So, what did you do before you worked for Eric?”

Derek asked, “Are you directing that question to me or Kaela?”

At the sound of her name, Kaela stared at them both for a moment before returning her gaze to the screen.

“You,” Lance said to Derek. “You told me you had a bad past, but I have no idea what you actually did before you met Eric.”

Derek shook his head. “We really shouldn’t be talking while listening for Rob and Amari.”

“Then we’ll stop talking the second we hear something,” Lance said. “Come on, I’m curious.”

Derek shook his head again and rubbed the bridge of his nose then looked up at the concrete ceiling. “I was an assassin.”

Lance nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” He considered Derek’s ability to fight, his quiet footsteps, his proficiency with weapons… the perfect condition he’d left Lance’s store in when he kidnapped him. “How… many people have you killed?”

Derek crossed his arms. “Too many.”

“Well, what kind of people did you—”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t do that kind of work anymore.”

A fog of tension clouded the room, dark and gloomy.

“Well… what did you do in your free time, then?” Lance asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Read books. Went to shooting ranges. Snuck around the city and explored. That was before I met Eric.”

“I remember you took me to the shooting range once,” Kaela chimed in. “It was fun.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Were you any good?”

“Not at first, but Derek taught me some tricks.”

“She’s not a half-bad shot, either,” Derek said.

The silence returned, and Lance squirmed under it. “You said that was before you met Eric. What do you do for fun now?”

“About the same. I do practice mixing drinks more. Look for good recipes.”

Lance chortled. “I can just imagine you hunched over a computer, looking for good recipes.”

Kaela giggled. “That’s cute.”

Derek crossed his arms, a small smile crawling across his lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But Kaela knows better than anybody that I make a mean drink.”

Kaela held a finger up. “He tells the truth.”

“If I drank, I’d put that to the test,” Lance said. When Kaela and Derek went quiet, he realized his mistake. “Shit.”

“You don’t drink?” Kaela asked. “How?”

Derek cocked his head. “Why not? Have you ever tried it?”

Lance grimaced. No going back now. “I did try it. I liked it… a little too much. It got to a point where I couldn’t stop. I nearly died one night and decided that maybe it was better for me to take a break… That break hasn’t ended yet.”

It was an understatement. Truthfully, that night still returned to him on occasion in the form of a nightmare. He still remembered the vomit all over the floor. The shaking and sweating. Slipping in and out of consciousness. His fingers turning blue and his heart palpitating. His body jerking and twitching uncontrollably. Not knowing where he was or remembering his own name. He didn’t know how he’d survived that night.

Derek opened his mouth again, but before any words came out, a female voice rang out from above.

“Kaela?”

Derek tensed.

Kaela stood from the chair and whispered, “That sounds like Amari, for sure.”

Then another voice spoke. “Derek?”

Derek relaxed and climbed up the ladder.

The hatch slid open, then Lance heard hushed voices.

The ladder creaked as Derek climbed down first. Following behind was Rob, wearing a tuxedo and carrying a cello case over his shoulder. Then behind him, Amari, wearing a sleeveless red dress and a coin purse to match.

“Were you followed?” Lance asked, staring at the cello case.

Rob ripped the bowtie from his neck and tossed it down with a scowl. “If I were being followed, I wouldn’t have come here. I hate formal clothing.” He set the case down. “Nice to see you again, Lance. What’d you think of your new store?” He reached out to shake Lance’s hand then frowned. “Sorry, forgot.”

Lance smiled. “It was more than I could have asked for.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Shame you haven’t had much time to spend in it.” Rob looked at Derek. “Everything you asked for is in there, plus some extra little gifts.”

Derek rifled through the cello case. He took out a slim metal case then a healthy sum of cash, two pistols, and clothes.

“What’s this?” Lance asked, holding up a brick-shaped object.

“C-4,” Derek said.

Lance dropped the explosive back into the case, a shock of fear crossing his chest.

Derek sighed. “Kaela.” He held up a bottle of wine.

Kaela gasped with a smile on her face, as if she had been presented with a puppy. She glided to Derek and snatched the bottle.

Derek sounded exasperated as he held out a wine opener. “You’ll need this.”

Kaela took it and opened the bottle, giving it a small kiss before taking a long swallow. She handed the bottle to Amari to get a sip of her own. “I didn’t even ask for any,” Kaela said.

Amari took a long sip. “I know my best friend. I asked Rob to bring one.”

Rob scoffed. “By asked, she means threatened.”

Kaela took the bottle back and sipped from it, then hesitated. She looked at Lance. “Is it okay that…” She pointed at the bottle.

Lance hid his frown. Kaela and Derek knowing was one thing, but he couldn’t accept Rob and Amari knowing too. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Great.” Kaela took a long swig from the bottle.

Lance shook his head as Derek put the money back in the cello case and opened the slim metal one, revealing a disassembled sniper rifle. It took seconds for him to put it together. Lance wondered how many times he’d done that. How many people had died at the other end of Derek’s barrel—how many innocent people?

“How are things out there?” Lance asked Rob as Kaela sipped on her wine and Derek looked through the scope of the rifle.

“Weird, to say the least. The chief has already announced you all as public enemy number one. She claims that you tried to assassinate her at the precinct. Cop cars are on every street corner, and police are patrolling the street. The suit ended up being useless. They were searching bags, so I had to take to the rooftops. Amari managed to slip by on the street, and we met up here. I swear it looks like martial law out there.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not all, though. The cops look… weird.”

“Glowing purple veins?” Derek interjected.

Rob stuttered. “I-I don’t know. They were wearing heavy-duty armor. Like this crazy black armor that makes them look like special… forces—I’m sorry, did you say glowing purple veins?”

“Any update on Eric?”

“Nothing, but I have reports that there was an explosion at Landreau Corp’s corporate building in Agni and a crashed helicopter in the nearby woods. There are a lot of men patrolling Agni, as well. Whether police or Landreau Corp’s private military, I don’t know. But what I do know is that they’re wearing the same armor.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, his expression suddenly nervous. “Also… the police are stationed at the edges of the city. I had to ask the men to stand down and go into hiding. In other words… I don’t think even Eric will be able to get back into the city unless he has one hell of a disguise.”

Derek shook his head. “Well, thanks for trying, Rob. If you somehow manage to find him, give him a pager and tell him to meet us here.”

“Yes, sir,” Rob said. “I know it’s not my place to ask, but… what happened to the police? And… seriously, I can’t get over this vein thing.”

Derek placed the rifle on his bed. “I don’t know. I couldn’t find anything regarding this new armor or their veins. But if it is Landreau Corp’s men patrolling Agni and they have the same armor as our police…”

Lance waited for Derek to finish the sentence, but he never did.

Rob ruffled his hair, removed his blazer, and partially unbuttoned his shirt. “I’ll keep an eye out for Eric, and I’ll continue to update you with what’s happening outside. Keep the case. I don’t need the suspicion drawn to me.” He looked at Amari, happily sipping wine with Kaela. “Amari. Mess up your appearance, and I’ll take you home.”

Amari removed her earrings and put them in her coin purse, messed up her hair, and took her heels off, holding them carefully in her hand.

“Now, let’s go,” Rob said.

Amari pulled Kaela into a tight embrace then followed Rob back up the ladder. Derek wished them good luck.

“I hope that girl stays safe,” Kaela said after a few minutes and a few more gulps of wine. She spun her chair around slowly. “But a skilled thief like her? She’ll be fine.”

Derek counted the money, his pager beside him, as if he expected Eric to send a message at any moment.

“At least we have fresh clothes now,” Lance said.

“You two go ahead and change. I’ll go last,” Derek said then continued whispering the amount of money to himself as he counted each bill.

Kaela curled into a ball in the chair, bottle of wine still in hand. “I’m pretty content right about now.”

“I wonder why.”

“Why are you counting it, anyway?” Kaela asked. “You know it’s from my safe, right? You even saw me type the amount.”

“Making sure it’s all there.” He counted the last bill and placed the stack in the case. “Which it is.”

“You think Rob would’ve stolen from you?” Lance asked.

“Nah, he and Rob are best friends. He probably thinks Amari stole some.” Kaela laughed, setting the bottle on the computer desk. “She could, mind you, but she and I have this little thing we like to call trust.”

“You can never be too careful,” Derek responded like it was nothing.

Silence fell upon them. The only sound that broke through was the creaking of the office chair as Kaela spun it back and forth. Lance stared at the rifle on the bed. He saw that man’s face behind his eyelids, and he wondered how many faces Derek saw. Dozens? How does he sleep at night?

Lance stared down at the palms of his injured hands, then his arms, as if expecting his own veins to be purple. His head spun with questions. What was this calm that came over him when he was in danger? Why could he fight so well when it settled over him? The question most prominent in his mind sent a chill through him.

Has Eric known about this all along? And how? Eric himself said something was special about him, and Kaela and Derek only mimicked the thought after seeing him fight. Lance grimaced. Eric knew so much.

Lance shook himself out of his own head. Kaela was fast asleep, cozied up in the chair like a cat, her already half-drunk bottle of wine on the desk. Derek was also nodding off, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Lance stared at the ladder through the open metal door. With all the supplies in here, he could easily steal some and go off on his own. He’d survived by himself for this long, and in the slums, no less. He could pack up a pistol, some food, and some clothes and get out of this ruined city. It would be hard, but no harder than being a fugitive.

He took a step toward the entrance, but a knot formed in his stomach. Something inside him halted his steps, and he looked back at Kaela and Derek.

Lance flipped the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. It wouldn’t matter if he left with all the supplies in the world. He would have to get past the officers if he wanted out of the city. Even with the killing calm, he didn’t know how many officers he would have to face.

Besides, could he really leave Kaela and Derek behind to die?

Would they leave me if they had the chance?

Something told him they wouldn’t.

Lance sighed at the string lights wrapped around the light switch then climbed up the creaky ladder. He wouldn’t leave. As loyal as Derek was, and even Kaela, he wouldn’t leave. They hadn’t left him yet, after all. Maybe one day, they could emerge from their hideout, the rats they’d become, and regain whatever semblance of a normal life they had. Lance smiled at the prospect.

He clambered out of the cooler, rubbing his hands together. He wandered the vast garage, his thoughts bouncing off the walls. Alone, at last. He’d told them about his… problem. Saying the words out loud had hurt. He hadn’t even mentioned the other substances. He wouldn’t, either, as long as he could avoid another slip of the tongue.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Lance jumped. “Son of a bitch, Derek!” He put a hand to his chest, his heart racing. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Derek leaned against the cooler, crossing his arms. He chuckled. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Came to check on you.”

Lance avoided his eyes. “I wasn’t leaving.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

Lance joined Derek, leaning next to him on the cooler. “Good, ’cause I wasn’t.”

“What’s on your mind, Lance?”

Lance shifted uncomfortably. “I smiled when I killed that man, Derek.”

“The one on the hill?”

Lance nodded. “Why?”

“Hard to say… Killing isn’t simple. It’s messy.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

The words hesitated to escape Lance’s mouth. “When did you decide to become a… assassin?”

Derek closed his eyes for a moment. “Well, I didn’t decide to become one. It just…” He rubbed his face. “Life has a way of throwing opportunities at you when you’re at your worst. When… you don’t feel like you have any other choice but to take them. Sometimes, those opportunities aren’t ideal.”

“Hell, you’re preaching to the choir,” Lance muttered. “What happened?”

Derek sighed. “I was a teenager. My mom was poor and had a lot of debt. I wanted to get some money to help, and the part-time job sure as hell wasn’t cutting it. So I started selling drugs. That was good for a while, but I wasn’t satisfied. I didn’t think the debt was getting paid off fast enough, so I searched for a quicker way to make money. And it was then that I started gambling. I was good at it, too… really good.”

“Did you make a lot of money?”

“Oh yeah.” Derek grew a smile. “One night, I got on this huge winning streak. You wouldn’t believe the amount of money I won that night. I probably could have gone on longer, but the manager started eyeballing me, and I wasn’t exactly of age to be there in the first place. I knew he’d kick me out if I got any more. So that was that. I got my money, left the casino with dollar signs in my eyes, and looked up from my bag full of cash straight into the barrel of a revolver.”

“Whoa.”

“I don’t think I’d ever really seen one before. I’d seen shotguns and rifles, but something like that pointed right in my face was the scariest thing I’d ever experienced. I barely even heard him ask for my money. I just… stood there, my grip tight on that money bag. He knew what he wanted. The gun wasn’t shaking in the slightest. He’d done it before. I couldn’t even look around, but I knew no one could see. I was in a dark area outside the casino, and everyone else was either drunk or unable to see what was going on.”

After a moment of silence, Lance asked, “What happened?”

Derek stared at the ground. “I killed him… I don’t know how, but… next thing I knew, the gun was in my hand. I watched this man gurgle and spit up blood as he faded away to hell. Everyone screamed when they heard the gunshot.”

“You don’t remember killing him?”

“Oh, I definitely remember killing him, just not how. I got scared. I went back to my house, sneaked into my room through the window, dropped the money bag, and left. I never saw my mom again.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Like I said, I was scared. I was a sixteen-year-old kid, covered in blood, with a revolver in my hand. It took me a few days just to let go of it. I ran away because I was scared she’d get in trouble for what I did. I realize now that it was a stupid thing to think, and I shouldn’t have left, but… well, by the time I realized, it was too late to go back.”

“Why didn’t you go back?”

“I couldn’t face her after what I did. She already suspected the money I was getting wasn’t legitimate.”

“You should go see her one day.”

Derek shook his head. “For all I know, she’ll spit in my face the moment she sees me, for abandoning her.”

“You don’t know that, Derek.”

“I don’t, but I don’t want to risk it… Besides, I still keep tabs on her. Word is she got remarried and has another kid. She’s doing okay for herself, now. I don’t want to ruin that for her.”

“What’d you do after you ran away?”

“I fell into a pretty dark moment in my life. I had no money, I was drinking water from puddles in the ground, and I was emaciated. I fell in with a gang… They fed me, paid me. All I had to do was kill rival gang members for them. I got good at it. I left shortly after and went independent, took contracts for whoever needed somebody offed. I did a good job of it, too. From then on, I just… killed. Good or bad, man or woman—didn’t matter to me. If it paid well, I did it.”

“Then you met Eric.”

“Then I met Eric.” Derek pursed his lips.

The room returned to its heavy silence, and Lance allowed his mind to absorb the story. “Thank you for telling me.”

Derek nodded. “Feels weird, like I just got a weight off my chest… I don’t know if I like it or not.”

Lance laughed. “Yeah… yeah, I think I know what you mean.”