A short steel blade appeared in the Sunai’s free hand, long fingers twirling the weapon, but what Kate had first taken for an ornamented hilt was in fact a kind of flute.

And the Sunai was lifting the instrument, as if to play.

“Wait,” said Kate—what a useless word—as the instrument brushed the Sunai’s lips. “I’m not—your enemy—” She tried to twist free, but the Sunai’s grip was steel.

“Only the guilty fight. Are you guilty, then?”

The answer rose in Kate’s throat, and when she swallowed, trying to hold it at bay, the Sunai’s hand tightened to the point of pain around her wrist, and the first beads of bloody light began to shine on the surface of her skin.

Disgust darkened the Sunai’s face and Kate’s head swam, her senses already slipping, but she kicked out, twisting sideways as she did, and managed to wrench herself free, free of the Sunai’s hold and the pain and the nearness of her own death. She staggered back a step, two, shoulders colliding with a wall as she clutched her wrist, the pricks of light already gone beneath her skin.

“I’m on your side!” she snapped, even as her fingers ached for the gun, the knife, the iron spike.

“You are a sinner,” snarled the Sunai with sudden force. “You will never be on our—”

“Caught you!” One of the thugs from North City came crashing around the corner, brandishing a pair of knives. “Thought you could—”

He saw the Sunai, and froze, while the Sunai’s own look darkened, their cold gray eyes taking in the collar around his throat. “What a foolish Fang you are.”

The thug was already scrambling away, but it was too late. The Sunai was on him in an instant, pulling him into an embrace that might have passed for tender, if not for the blade protruding from his side, the red light flooding to the surface of his skin, the way his mouth opened in a strangled scream.

Kate saw her chance and took off running.

She made it five steps and then an arm marked with black X’s snaked around her shoulders, pulling her close before she even registered the sound of the man’s body hitting the pavement.

“Be still,” said the monster in Kate’s ear. “The fight is over. You have already lost.” Long fingers slid through Kate’s hair and tightened, forcing her head back. “Try to flee, and you will die in pain. Kneel, and I will make it quick.”

“I know August.”

The Sunai paused at that. “How?”

What were they? Friends? Allies? “He saved my life,” she said at last, “and I saved his.”

“I see.” The Sunai hummed thoughtfully. And then the iron grip was back. “Then you are even.”

Panic shuddered through her. “Wait,” she pleaded, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I have information.”

A boot caught her behind the knees and her legs buckled, forcing her down. “I will hear your confession soon enough.”

“If you just let me see August.”

“Enough.”

Callum Harker once told Kate that only fools shouted when they wanted others to listen. Smart men spoke softly, expecting to be heard.

Now, Kate raised her voice, as loud as she possibly could.

“AUGUST FLYNN!” she called out, right before the Sunai’s blade came up beneath her chin. Blood—bright, red, human—coated its length, the tang of copper tickling her throat as her own voice echoed through the city streets.

“I warned you,” growled the Sunai.

Kate’s heart hammered in her ears.

Not like this.

Her bag sat several feet away. The gun glinted at the base of the wall. The iron spike traced a cool line against her shin. She hadn’t come this far just to be reaped. If she was going to die, she’d be damned if she did it on her knees.

“There is a new monster in your city,” she said.

The blade’s edge grazed her throat.

“It’s turning humans on each other.”

At that, the Sunai hesitated, the blade drew back a fraction, and Kate saw her only chance.

“What did you—”

But Kate was already up, spinning as she rose. She caught the flute with the spike, and the instrument went skidding away down the street before the Sunai’s fist cracked across her face.

She went down hard, vision going black and then white, head still ringing as she scrambled up. She never made it. The Sunai dragged her to her feet, and threw her like a scrap against the wall. The air left her lungs, and the shadow in her head called for blood even as the Sunai wrapped a hand around Kate’s throat—

“Soro, stop.”

The command echoed, metal on stone.

The Sunai’s hand fell away from Kate’s throat and she sank to her knees on the pavement. The world tilted and swam, but she dragged her head up and saw him standing at the mouth of the alley.

August.

He was dressed in FTF fatigues, a steel violin hanging from his fingers. The last six months had changed Kate in small ways, but the changes to August Flynn were bigger. He was still lean, but he’d grown into his height, broad shoulders filling out his uniform. The lines of his face were sharp and strong, black curls sweeping over gray eyes—once pale, now the color of iron. But it was more than that, more than the sum of so many pieces. It was the way he held himself, not like the boy she’d met at Colton, hunched against some invisible wind, or the one she’d fled with through the Waste, arms wrapped around his ribs as if he could hold himself together.