by Dylan Steel
Sage swallowed hard, wincing as she did. Half of her body was still rebelling from its normal functions after the abuse she’d received in the last couple hours, and Mr. Gaztok hadn’t so much as suffered a bruise. She was hardly in a position to challenge him.
Dozens of warring thoughts spilled through her mind in that moment, but despite the hopelessness of her situation, one stood out above the rest. It hooked its claws in deep, not letting go:
This was her chance—she might not get another.
As Mr. Gaztok reached for the door, she gripped the edges of the chair, pushing herself to her feet.
Now or never.
Fighting through the heat that sliced through her body, Sage lunged forward. Mr. Gaztok turned, unadulterated hate plastered on his face as soon as he realized what she was doing.
But she never made it to him.
The opaque wall between them shattered inward without warning. An officer’s body tumbled through the space, crunching broken glass beneath it as it rolled across the room, crashing into the chairs around the table.
For the first time since she’d been marched into the room, Sage’s attention wasn’t on the final Quorum member. She watched dumbly as a man with gray-brown hair stepped through the fresh hole in the wall just a moment after the unconscious officer’s body came to a halt.
Time stopped all around them. Darkness threatened to take over her vision as Sage stared in disbelief at the man standing among the shards.
“Well, now. This is a surprise,” Mr. Gaztok said, a cautious edge entering his tone that Sage had never heard from him before. “It isn’t every day I see a dead man resurrected, Ethan.”
16. GHOSTS
“Daddy?” Even to herself, Sage’s voice sounded faint, distant.
The man’s eyes flicked to hers, surprise and sorrow filling their depths for only an instant before he turned his attention back to the real threat in the room, not saying a word.
Every ounce of oxygen left her lungs as she struggled to breathe.
It was impossible. There was no way in Eprah’s name that the man standing in front of her was her father. He was dead. He’d been dead for years.
“Daddy?” Mr. Gaztok’s brow jerked up. He barked out a laugh. “Oh, Ethan, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“A few.” He took a step forward, pulling the same type of baton from his belt that Sage had used earlier on Boulder. Electricity crackled across the top of it as he pointed it at Mr. Gaztok.
“Daddy?” Sage repeated numbly, unable to form another thought. Her legs were heavy as lead, her feet cemented to the floor. She couldn’t move—could barely speak as she watched her father’s ghost move in front of her.
“Sage, I’m so sorry, but I don’t have time to explain everything right now, honey,” Ethan said over his shoulder, unwilling to tear his gaze away from Mr. Gaztok for even a moment. “Lyle and I need to have a long overdue conversation.”
“Is that so, Ethan?” Mr. Gaztok took a step back, eyeing the sparks cautiously. “It doesn’t appear to me like you have any intention of having a conversation.”
“It can be short. And it can end in one of two ways. Your choice—” Ethan said, gesturing toward a chair on the other side of the table with his free hand, “—which is more generous than you were with me or Isabelle.”
“By all means.” Mr. Gaztok tilted his head reluctantly, slowly making his way to the chair, sinking down in it. “I’m listening.”
“You are going to resign your position. Turn over your control of Eprah to the Lawless.”
“I see. Not much of a conversation, then,” Mr. Gaztok said, pressing his fingers together. “So this is a Lawless coup.”
Ethan gave a curt nod.
“So the Lawless will rule.” He drummed his fingers along the table. “How perfectly ironic.”
“The Lawless will bring the rule back to the people, where it was before Eprah’s formation. Where it belongs. Not in the hands of one corrupt man—or five.”
“And if I refuse to cooperate?”
A muscle jumped in Ethan’s jaw. “I don’t think you’d particularly enjoy the other option.”
“I assume after all this time that you’re not foolish enough to come here alone today.”
The corner of Ethan’s mouth twitched slightly. “Correct.”
“You’re also assuming the people would be happy to have me step down. That they would not fight for me.” Mr. Gaztok pursed his lips. “But I have endeared myself to them over the years. I’ve protected them. Saved them from the very same Lawless menace that you are proposing I give them over to. I don’t imagine they’d appreciate that scenario nearly as much as you hope.”
“The Lawless have never been the menace you’ve made us out to be. Our fight has always been for the freedoms you and others like yourself have stolen from us. And you are assuming that the people cannot see through your lies. They will not stand with you and against themselves.” Ethan paused. “Perhaps you should take a look out the window, Lyle.”
Mr. Gaztok raised his palms and slowly backed toward the window. Propelled by her own curiosity, Sage took a couple steps forward too—careful to leave a good distance between herself and Mr. Gaztok. She followed both men’s gazes outside and sucked in a sharp breath.
There, in the middle of the square, was a projection of the very same room they were in. All three of them were on live display, and a crowd of people had gathered around them to watch the not-so-hidden conversation unfolding in the Quorum’s room above.
She stepped back shakily. “How did you…”
“Your conversation with my daughter was not quite as secret as you thought. This is being broadcast on every comm in the city, public and private,” Ethan said, never taking his eyes off Mr. Gaztok. “And the citizens you want to step up to your rescue have just witnessed firsthand how little you truly think of them—and the bravery of at least one member of the Lawless who would not bow to your corrupt bribery and deception,” he said, unable to contain the note of pride in his voice.
“I’m afraid you are mistaken. I am the patriot in this room. You and your daughter,” his lip curled in disgust, “are the traitors.”
Ethan motioned with the baton, indicating he should take a seat. “You may have Eprah’s laws on your side, but that doesn’t make you right.”
“Tell me, Ethan. All these years. All this deception from your family—more than I realized you were capable of.” Mr. Gaztok cocked his head, not budging. “Has this been your plan the whole time?”
“We’ve had to make a few adjustments thanks to you. But our end goal has always been freedom for the people.”
“Ah, yes. And such sacrifices you’ve made on your way, Mr. Indarra,” Mr. Gaztok said, his tone dripping with condescension. “Have they all been worth it? Tearing your family apart? Abandoning your home? Leaving your child with the man you detest most?”
“Don’t make this more personal than it already is.” Ethan’s jaw clenched as he gripped the baton in front of him tighter. “Step down, Lyle.”
A small, unsettling grin spread over Mr. Gaztok’s face. “You couldn’t possibly think it would be that simple. That you could come in here and fight me for the privilege of ruling Eprah.”
Ethan adjusted his stance slightly. “I’d hoped you would see reason. That you’d know you’ve lost the backing of the people and we wouldn’t have to fight at all.”
“Then you are as great a fool today as you were all those years ago.”
Mr. Gaztok’s lips twitched. He gave no other indication of movement before he shot toward Ethan.
After what she’d seen earlier, she should’ve been expecting it. But she wasn’t prepared. By the time she realized she needed to jump to her father’s defense, she wasn’t sure she could actually help.
Her father lifted an arm to defend himself against Mr. Gaztok’s attack, jabbing the baton forward at the same time. Sage cringed at the sickening sound of bone and metal hitting fl
esh. Both men had made contact. Both had to have been hurt, but neither of them showed any sign of it. Neither could afford weakness and expect to live.
Sage jumped out of the way as both men barreled toward her. A flurry of limbs came dangerously close to entangling her in the brawl, but she kept scrambling backward, staying just out of reach as they pressed each other harder.
Her eyes brimmed with concern. Watching them fight was like trying to catch lightning. She was vaguely aware of their movements, but she couldn’t pick out the details—couldn’t even tell who was winning. It made her own Bokja training and championship win look like nothing more than a childish novelty. Mr. Gaztok had clearly trained at a most elite level for years, but her father was right there with him, holding his own.
The baton sailed through the air, crashing through the window as the men’s bodies slammed into the table, sending it sideways. Sage dodged the chairs that flew in every direction.
A sense of helplessness swept over her as she watched limbs tangle together. Red splotches sprayed along the walls and floor, grunts and sickening cracks echoed in her ears.
"Get out of here, Sage," her father said as he stalked forward, one of his arms hanging a little too limply at his side.
Panic surged through her. "I'm not leaving without—"
"Go, Sage!"
She jerked back at the harshness of his tone. She bit down on her lip. She wasn’t willing to watch her father to die, but she wasn’t leaving him. Not again.
The fight was too close. It could turn against her father at any moment—if it hadn’t already. She was a good fighter, but both men had been training their whole lives, and it showed. But Sage needed to help. She had to, whether her father wanted to admit it or not. She might not be able to do much, but if she could distract Mr. Gaztok long enough, her father might be able to deal a fatal blow—or at least one serious enough to end this fight.
Clenching her jaw, she looked for an opening, bouncing on her heels as she waited. When Mr. Gaztok's back swung around toward her, she took a quick step forward, ready to strike. But before she could reach him, Ethan had halfway circled the despot, blocking her access.
Frowning, she took a step back and surveyed the cramped space for another opening. Jumping over a fallen chair to get a better angle, she nearly twisted her ankle on the landing. Staggering forward, she breathed a small inward sigh of relief as she recovered her balance, hurrying behind the pair with only a moment’s hesitation.
Before she finished moving into position, Ethan moved to the side again swiftly, putting himself between Sage and Mr. Gaztok, effectively blocking her aid.
Two more times, she thought she could help, but her father stepped deftly between them before she could offer a real distraction for Mr. Gaztok. Frustration built in her chest. She could've sworn he was doing it on purpose.
Sage’s heart pounded faster as her gaze darted between the two men, watching helplessly. Even if she could break through their defenses—even if she could help her father—could she kill a man if given the chance? She thought she’d already made the decision, but now that the true possibility was staring her in the face, the thought overwhelmed her. To snuff out the life of another person, to do what every one of Eprah’s citizens currently had the right to do without fear of consequences, to—
Mr. Gaztok roared as Ethan’s heel connected with a section on his leg that was already bleeding. His expression hardened. He sprang forward, connecting with Ethan’s jaw in a hard uppercut and forcing him into a sloppy retreat. It was as if Mr. Gaztok had been toying with him, allowing him to land blows because it amused him. But he was no longer amused.
Her eyes widened with worry as she watched her father stumble backward. She made up her mind again quickly. To save her father, to save Weston, to save Eprah—there was no question. She would kill Mr. Gaztok if she could.
Ethan hissed in pain. He was still being forced backward, barely able to land any offensive blows—barely trying.
Sage swallowed hard. Her father wouldn’t let her fight, and her attempts were only serving to distract him, not Mr. Gaztok. She wasn’t helping at all. In fact, she may have already made things worse.
Then, a horrifying thought struck her.
If she couldn’t be an asset in this fight, she might become a liability. Ice ran through her veins.
It seemed Mr. Gaztok had a similar idea. She leaped backward, barely managing to dodge the hand that stretched out, grabbing at her.
Scurrying to the other end of the room, she tried to maintain a bit of distance between herself and the men as they brawled around the room, not sure what else she could actually do to help her father without getting in the way.
Grunts of exertion told her that the men were getting closer. She spun around, desperately looking for something she could use to help—another baton, maybe—but there was nothing but chairs and some broken glass halfway across the room.
The fight reached her again, but by now she was cut off from the exit. It was too late to run. She braced herself, ready to do whatever she could to help her father when a sickening crack echoed through the room.
Her father crumpled straight to the ground, and she froze.
No.
He couldn’t be—he had to be ok. She’d just gotten him back.
Sage didn’t even realize she was running toward him when an arm clamped around her middle. Her breath caught in her chest, then whooshed out as her back slammed against the wall. She sputtered as Mr. Gaztok’s fingers closed around her neck, tearing her attention off of her father’s still body.
Her eyes shot wide in panic.
“On second thought,” Mr. Gaztok snarled, spit flying, “you’ve become more of a liability than I care to deal with. Goodbye, Ms. Indarra.”
Sage clawed at his hand and bucked her hips trying to get free, but he had her trapped between his large frame and the wall. There wasn’t room to find leverage, and he was too well trained to expose any vulnerabilities.
Shadows danced in front of her eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t planning on dragging this out any longer.
No one was coming to help her. Not Weston, not the Lawless, not her father, not the people in the streets. Even if there was anyone left who wanted to save her, there wasn’t time. There would be no rescue.
She could already feel her life slipping away as she scratched deep grooves into the back of his hand and tried unsuccessfully to suck in one more breath.
Mr. Gaztok—Eprah—would keep killing. Murder would still be sanitized. Permissible. Expected. Common. Nothing would change.
They’d lost.
Rage filled her chest. Forget fear or regret or sadness—those weren’t the emotions she was feeling in her last moments. It was anger. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be—her life, her future, stolen by a man who already had more power than any one person should hold. And now he was moments away from proving exactly how much power he held over her. There had to be a way to stop him, even if it wasn’t by her hand.
Something sparked in her memory. Something important but just out of reach, skating away from her grasp like the oxygen that couldn’t quite reach her lungs. It tugged at her awareness.
The knife.
Her heart thumped harder. Kai had thought he’d disarmed her earlier when he’d had his men confiscate her baton, but he hadn’t realized she was carrying anything else—something small, not easily detected.
But big enough to do some real damage.
It was a slim hope, but it was her only chance. Dropping one hand down, she fumbled desperately with her jacket, throwing her elbow out in wild jabs so that Mr. Gaztok wouldn’t notice that she was reaching for something. She paused as the weight of what she was preparing to do bore down on her. But she didn’t have a choice. Black spots were already crowding her vision. A few more seconds of this, and she’d pass out, never to wake again.
Pushing aside her hesitation, she pulled the blade out. She gripped the handle tightly and plunged the kni
fe forward into his chest, driving it deep into the tender bit of flesh between his ribs.
Hot, sticky blood dribbled over her hand. She jerked back at the realization of what she was feeling, withdrawing the knife.
Mr. Gaztok’s face twisted in pain as he clutched at the hole the blade left in his chest. Dark red liquid spilled between his fingers. Nausea choked her. She’d barely made the decision to use the blade, and it was already done.
There wasn’t time to react as his body slammed against hers, crushing her against the wall with his weight. She squirmed and shimmied, trying to fight her way out from under him and only partially succeeding.
Her eyes widened in horror as she stared into the rapidly dimming light of his eyes. Her stomach churned. She’d meant to do it, but she hadn’t imagined it would feel like this. Not so… final. It was one thing to consider killing a man—it was quite another to actually deal the final blow and kill a man.
“Sage—honey—it’s ok. It’s ok.”
Her attention jerked to the side. Ethan stumbled to his feet. Half of his face was slick with blood. He was holding his side as he made his way toward her, sidestepping a slew of upended chairs. She should have felt relief, but she just felt numb.
Before her father could make it to her, Mr. Gaztok reached forward, grabbing her collar. She shrieked, trying to scramble back, but he pulled her closer with unnatural strength for a man clearly in his final moments. She cringed in anticipation of the killing blow he was sure to administer—the one that would teach her one final lesson about loyalty to Eprah and the cost of following the Lawless.
But it didn’t come.
“The Lawless… lied to you…” Flecks of blood sprayed on her cheeks as he coughed. “About… everything. So much.” His voice came out as a strangled garble as he choked on his own fluids. “You… still don’t know…”
Ethan’s hand landed on Mr. Gaztok’s shoulder before he could say anything else. He pulled him off Sage and sent him sailing backward, crashing against the wall with a loud thud. The final Quorum member’s head bobbed down, limp.
