They’re going to cut us open, McClane predicted in a small voice, still mending Riley’s body even though Riley could tell he’d have rather just clung to it like a frightened kid. They’ll never believe you’re not under my control. They’ll think I contaminated you. Maybe they’ll think I laid eggs in you. Or that I’ll burst out of your chest. Or other gross things. They’ll—

“Shut up,” Riley ordered, chilled by the utter belief and gnawing horror in McClane’s voice. No surrender. Got it. “I’m not coming up,” he barked.

He knew he should, knew the only bargaining chip he had for Misha’s life was his compliance, but it wasn’t only him on the line. McClane was scared out of his mind and with good reason. Turning themselves in was not an option. The only thing left to do was to stall until Kolya and Andrej were out of the immediate line of fire and… well.

The giant lifted the grenade launcher. “You really want to go there?”

“You can’t fucking do this,” Misha yelled, fear and fury pressing his voice into a deep roar that echoed through the cavern. “He’s an American citizen, you fucking asshole. He has rights!”

For a second, the giant looked almost sympathetic, but it was such a fleeting expression Riley wasn’t sure he hadn’t simply imagined it. “The man you think he is, is dead,” he said with utter conviction. “Step aside. Put up your hands and surrender, and everybody will get to live. That’s more of a chance than you gave my men.”

“Just leave them be,” Misha pleaded.

It was the wrong thing to say. The giant’s eyes narrowed as he glanced between them. “Can’t,” was all he said, but Riley could tell that Misha had pretty much just dug his own grave by basically admitting he knew Riley wasn’t alone in his body. The giant leveled an icy stare at Riley. “Last chance.”

No surrender, McClane whispered, clutching Riley so hard it hurt, his terror and fury a suffocating weight that made both of them sluggish and cold. Kill them. Kill them or die. I vote kill. Kill them all. There was another emotion there, then, slippery and hard to grasp. Something like shame.

Something like defiance. Something bitter and hard like a poisoned bullet.

McClane’s voice turned quiet, a soft susurration like sand sliding over a

honed blade. I did it before. I can do it again. At least I’m not alone this time.

Riley breathed out slowly. He knew they could probably fight their way out of this, he and McClane. They could paint the cavern red and then walk out of there and keep killing until no one was left standing. Of course, Misha would almost certainly die in the crossfire. So would Kolya and Andrej. Riley didn’t want them dead. He wanted nobody dead. He wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t a soldier. He had too much blood on his hands as it was.