“That’s enough of that,” Cecilia hissed.
She fought the darkness creeping into her vision and threatening to swallow her. She wasn’t going to last much longer. If she passed out, Cecilia would take her to some godforsaken place to do unimaginable things to her. She needed a plan, something to get herself out of this situation, but the more she tried to force her brain to come up with something, the more foggy and sluggish it felt.
Cecilia’s sneering face faded into blackness for a moment, then flickered back into focus. A buzzing whir hummed at the edges of Zira’s perception. She wasn’t sure if it was real or just a side effect of this fading in and out of consciousness.
Cecilia’s head snapped around as the buzzing grew louder. More tangible. The pressure left Zira’s throat as the woman whirled and swatted at the drone tangled in her hair. She missed, and it slammed into her face with enough force to open a cut across her brow.
Zira found herself on the floor, coughing and sputtering as she tried to catch her breath. Something clattered into the wall over her head. Pieces of the drone rained down onto her back as Cecilia let out an animalistic scream.
The pistol. Zira’s eyes landed on it, just a few feet away from her hand. She scrambled for the weapon at the same instant Cecilia lunged for her, knife raised, black hair tangled in a knot on one side of her head, blood smeared across her eye where she’d tried to rub it away. Zira managed to grab the gun just before Cecilia’s shadow passed over her.
Rolling onto her back, she clutched the weapon in both hands and fired two shots.
Cecilia’s body jerked as the bullets struck her in the chest. Still clinging to her knife, she staggered to the side and lurched against the wall. A wide streak of blood smeared down its surface as she slid onto the floor. She looked at Zira with eyes full of panic. A gurgling noise escaped her lips just before her limbs went completely still.
Zira gently rubbed at her throat. She could still feel the pressure of Cecilia’s arm against her windpipe, but it felt good just to be able to breathe again. She pushed herself up and returned her gun to its holster. Time to go find Jared.
Jared. She reached a hand to her ear as she remembered Cecilia removing her earpiece. Her eyes scanned the floor, but she couldn’t see it in the immediate vicinity. As she walked back down the hallway, she found it lying next to the discarded weapon of one of the men she and Jared had taken down earlier. She put it back in her ear and reconnected to the channel she shared with Jared and Tripp.
Tripp spoke before she could even get a word out. “Zira? You there, kid?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out rough and scratchy. “Yeah, I’m here.”
He let out a relieved sigh. “I wasn’t sure that would work. That first hit did a number on the drone. Are you okay? Is she…”
Zira retrieved her rifle and headed for the stairs, averting her eyes from Cecilia’s lifeless body as she stepped over her outstretched arm. “She’s dead. I’m fine. Where’s Jared?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Tripp, where’s Jared?”
“I’m not sure. His comms went offline about two minutes ago.”
* * *
Sharp, searing pain registered in Jared’s nervous system, radiating from the point of the bullet’s impact in his shoulder blade. He turned around. From a doorway in the red-brick house, Ryku took aim for a second shot.
Jared threw himself to the ground. The movement jarred his shoulder, and he sucked in a sharp breath against the pain. He raised his rifle, struggling to keep it steady with his injury, and fired a scattered burst at the doorway.
Ryku pulled back, and Jared used the opportunity to push himself up and dart to a nearby tree for cover. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he was going to get.
He stole a glance at the doorway again. No sign of Ryku. He was probably in position somewhere else by now, just waiting for his chance to finish off his prey.
Jared wasn’t going to give him that opportunity.
He traded his rifle for the lighter and more manageable handgun at his hip. Crouching low behind the tree, he peered out from cover to scan the house again. His eyes moved from one side of the building to the other.
There—a movement in the shadows. He put his finger on the trigger
From the corner of the house, Ryku took aim again, but Jared was ready for him. He pulled the trigger in a quick burst of shots—one, two, three. One of his bullets struck Ryku in the hip. Another hit his abdomen, and he staggered back to lean against the wall.
Jared expected the man to keep shooting, but instead, he simply made eye contact and tossed his gun out several yards in front of him. He pressed one hand against the wound in his abdomen and raised the other over his head before sliding to the ground. “I surrender!”
The muscles in Jared’s face twisted in a mixture of fury and disgust. After everything Ryku had done, did he actually think that was going to work? Or did he simply believe that because of their history, Jared wouldn’t—couldn’t—execute him?
In either case, he was woefully mistaken.
He stood and walked towards Ryku, keeping his gun trained on him the entire time. When he was still a few paces away, he stopped and looked down at his former mentor. A murderer, a tyrant, and now a terrorist. He barely recognized the man anymore, and he was no longer sure what he’d ever seen in him that warranted respect, admiration, and loyalty. Staring up at him now, he seemed nothing more than a desperate, pathetic miscreant clawing at his last hope for survival.
None of that made him any less dangerous, though. Jared steadied his sights on the man’s forehead.
Ryku narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me? I surrender.”
Jared pulled the trigger.
He swallowed hard as he stared at the suddenly-lifeless body slumped against the wall. Fired this close, the bullet had destroyed much of Ryku’s face. A small part of Jared hated seeing him like that—hated himself for what he’d just done to the man who had taught him so much, who had saved his life, who had once cared about him in his own unconventional way.
He felt guilty about the part of himself that regretted what he’d just done, but somehow he also felt guilty that he wasn’t more distressed by his former mentor’s death. It was all so confusing and mixed up in his head, and the longer he stared at Ryku’s body, the more conflicted he felt.
He turned away and took a few seconds to collect himself, then pulled his earpiece from his pocket and fitted it inside his ear. “Zira?”
No answer. “Tripp? Zira?”
Still nothing. He checked the connection on his CL, then pulled out the earpiece again and saw that it had been switched off. He couldn’t be sure whether he’d done that himself or if it had happened inadvertently in the last few minutes. His finger shook as he reached out to depress its button and put it back in his ear. “Zira, Tripp, are you there?”
“Jared, where are you?” Zira’s voice was raspy, but otherwise, she sounded unhurt. “What’s happening? We’ve been trying to reach you.”
Relief surged through his chest like electricity through a wire. “You’re okay.”
“I’m fine. What about you? Did you find Ryku?”
“He’s dead,” Jared said. And maybe it was just the adrenaline fading and the pain in his shoulder blade taking over, but the words left him with a light, floating sensation that brought a distinct sense of calm. “Ryku’s dead. It’s over.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“President Bradshaw’s office is on the third floor,” said the security guard as she returned Jared’s CyberLink. “He’s expecting you.”
“Thanks.” He slipped the device back over his wrist and headed to the elevator. While he waited for it to arrive, he straightened the collar of his shirt and looked down to check for scuff marks on his shoes for what must have been the tenth time. The clothes were a little more formal than what he was used to, which made him feel even more out of place, but he wasn’t about to walk into a meeting
with the president looking like he didn’t appreciate the significance of the event.
He stepped onto the elevator and took a deep breath as it carried him upwards. He still didn’t know exactly what this was about, but he suspected it had something to do with what would happen to him now that the threat of the PRM had been significantly neutralized. In the six weeks that had passed since he’d killed Ryku, SIO and the National Security Department had utilized every available resource—including the intel recovered in that operation—to crack down on the PRM in full force. They’d even tracked down and arrested Celeste, much to Nova and Dodge’s satisfaction. There had been a few small, scattered attacks since then, but for the most part, the organization seemed to have dissipated, gone underground, and all but vanished.
It was a good thing, and Jared was proud to have been a part of it. But now, with the PRM out the way and Ryku dead, all the reasons SIO had had for bringing him into their ranks were gone. He wasn’t sure the terms of their deal even applied anymore. Maybe Bradshaw had decided to enforce the full penalties of his plea agreement now that his usefulness to the Republic had expired. Maybe he was heading to his own arrest. He’d already resigned himself to the possibility and, surprisingly, it didn’t bother him as much as it might have before. Whatever happened, he would be okay. With Zira’s support and Ryku dead and the knowledge that he’d made meaningful efforts to atone for his past, he would be just fine.
He stepped off the elevator and walked to the only door that had security guards in suits posted outside. One was Alma’s brother, who nodded to him in recognition and gave him a quick pat-down before opening the door. Chase Bradshaw stood up from behind a massive wooden desk and walked over to shake his hand. “Jared, thank you so much for coming. How are you?”
“I’m doing good, sir. Thank you.”
He gestured to a set of armchairs on the other side of the office. “Please, have a seat.”
Jared sat down, and Bradshaw took one of the chairs across from him. His expression was kind enough, but his shrewd, dark eyes searched Jared’s face for a few seconds before he continued. “I thought I should thank you in person for your role in Ryku’s demise. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but this country owes you and the rest of your team an enormous debt of gratitude.”
“I was just doing my job, sir.”
“Of course. Though, I have to admit I had some serious doubts about you at first. I didn’t even want to allow you to take that plea deal, so I’m grateful to those wiser than me who counseled me otherwise. In this case, I’m more than happy to be proven wrong.”
“Thank you.”
Bradshaw leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together between his knees. “Thanks to SIO’s efforts, the PRM is no longer the threat it once was. I’m not sure we can even call them a threat anymore. But I’m sure there will be others. I don’t want us to head down the same road the Project did when it comes to addressing those threats, but it would be unwise of us not to take our national security seriously. We need good, skilled people on our side in order to do that. People like you. I hope you’ll consider staying on with SIO even after your pardon.”
Jared raised his eyebrows, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard Bradshaw correctly. “My…pardon?”
“Yes. They’re supposed to announce the election results later today, and I won’t be president for much longer. After everything you’ve done, I want to make sure the person who comes in next doesn’t try to rescind our agreement. Offering you a full pardon seems like the best way to do that.”
It took Jared a moment to find the proper words to respond. “I’m grateful, sir, of course. But…why?”
“You’ve made good use of the second chance we gave you. And I think I may have been a little too quick to judge. I’ve had a chance to speak with several former Project members over the past year, and it’s made me reconsider the circumstances you were all in when you made some of the choices you made. I think I understand what you must have been going through a little better now. You’ve made amends for the crimes you actually pled guilty to, and you deserve to have a real chance at starting over, whatever that might look like. But you’re a valuable asset, so I hope you’ll consider staying on with SIO.”
“Of course,” Jared said. “I would love to.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Dear Mr. Foster and family,
My name is Zira. I’m a former member of the PEACE Project, and I knew your daughter. You named her Harmony, but to me, she was always Aubreigh. She was like a sister to me. Losing her has been the hardest experience of my life, which is why it’s taken me so long to write this, but I know she would have wanted me to reach out.
You should know that your daughter was brave, though she probably wouldn’t have described herself that way. But she was, in a quiet, kind, and selfless way. She joined the rebellion to help people she didn’t even know just because it was the right thing to do. She believed in what the rebels were trying to accomplish, and she risked everything for it. She was a hero, but I’m sure you’ve heard that from other people already, and I didn’t write just to tell you that.
I think what I loved most about Aubreigh was that she cared so much. About everything. Everyone. Sometimes it’s easier not to, because you can’t protect yourself from all the pain and loss life brings, but that didn’t matter to her. She cared anyway. She helped me learn how to care. I miss her every day, but I’m a better person because of her, and I’m grateful for that.
I hope this message brings you some comfort. Your daughter was an incredible person, and I’m sure she would have loved to meet all of you.
Sincerely,
Zira
She skimmed over the message one last time. It still felt too vague, but she didn’t know how else she could sum up an entire person in just a few paragraphs, and she wasn’t quite ready to commit all her memories of Aubreigh to writing. Not yet. But Aubreigh’s family deserved to know her in whatever small way they could. She would never have a chance to meet them herself, but she would have wanted to, and sending this message was maybe the best thing Zira could do to honor her friend’s memory.
She’d thought about going to see them in person, or calling to arrange a meeting, but decided against it. Maybe someday, but she wasn’t ready to face any of them just yet. Because what if Aubreigh’s sister looked just like her, or her dad had the same spark in his eyes? This was easier, even if it was inadequate. For now, it would have to be enough.
Tripp came to stand beside her, and Zira projected the message over her CL so he could read it. He nodded approvingly. “That’s good, kid. I think it would mean a lot to her.”
She gave the message a final once-over, then sent it. “Any word from Alma?”
“I talked to her a few minutes ago. Dodge’s surgery seems to have gone well, but they won’t really know for sure until he wakes up.”
“We should pay him a visit. Jared can meet us there when he gets back.”
Tripp nodded as his CL chimed. “Oh! The election results are finally in.”
She waited a few seconds for him to continue, but he didn’t. “And?” she said, keeping her tone casual to downplay the fact that she even cared. She hadn’t even realized the election mattered to her at all until yesterday afternoon when she’d cast her ballot. But after everything she had fought for with the rebels and the Republic and SIO, it seemed unavoidable that she would have become at least somewhat invested along the way. And that probably would have made Aubreigh proud.
“It was a close race,” Tripp said, “but it looks like our next president will be Sylvia King.”
Zira scrunched her mouth to one side. King seemed like a respectable enough woman, but it wasn’t the result she had been hoping for. For the second time, she’d voted for Angela Yang, whose blunt strength and fierce resolve would have been valuable in getting the country through the next few years as they continued to rebuild and transition. But it had been a long shot. Yang had never really
recovered from being tied to the True PRM’s acquisition of the explosives used in their devastating attacks.
The most important thing was that elections had happened at all, and if the new president didn’t work out, the people now had the power to remove her from office, or at the very least, elect someone else when her term was up. Leaders like Ryku wouldn’t last under the new system, even if they managed to reach a position of power at all.
She stood up and jerked her head towards the door. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” said Tripp. “Let’s go.”
* * *
By the time they got to the hospital, the rest of the team was already there. Alma sat in a chair next to Dodge’s bed, and Jared stood on his other side. Nova and Josefina were arranging some of the flowers and cards he’d received on the bedside table. Zira looked around again. All of them, but…something was missing.
Salim.
A familiar pang throbbed in her chest. They had buried him two weeks ago after his family opted to take him off life support, but his absence continued to catch her off guard.
Dodge smiled at them as they entered the room. It was the same hollow, completely un-Dodge-like smile he’d adopted ever since Salim’s death. He still put on an air of charming confidence and never hesitated to make jokes, but he didn’t laugh at them anymore. Not the way he used to.
At least he was trying. They were all just trying to survive the best way they knew how.
Tripp set down the raspberry-lemon cupcakes he’d baked earlier that morning. “We decided to bring you something better than flowers,” he said.
“Thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite yet, but if you made them, I’m sure they’ll be great. And I’ll remind the rest of you that those are mine, so stay away from them.”
A few of the others chuckled at the empty threat.
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