The door on the other side of the car was forced open with a piercing screech of metal. Ryuu appeared at the opening, and for a moment, she froze in place, every bit of her training falling away.

Then she fled into the next car as he called her name behind her.

She slammed the door open, panting heavily as blood trickled in a hot wave down her leg.

This car was empty too. A bullet pinged off the wall next to her, and she jumped out of the way, speeding down the aisle toward the next door.

She reached it, pushed aside the door and ran into the car.

A gasp left her throat. She fell back to the wall, dropping her dagger, as Ryuu reached her.

His breath caught when he saw the scene, and he gripped the doorframe for support.

Kouta Hirai lay on the center of the train floor. Yellow light reflected on his open eyes. A bullet was lodged in his forehead, blood trailing down the side of his face and pooling around his hair like a halo.

Time slowed, until she was certain they’d both stopped breathing. Hands shaking slightly, she glanced at Ryuu. With his mouth half open, eyes wide, and the crease on his forehead, he looked confused, as if the scene in front of them might not be real.

She took in Kouta on the floor. Only a very skilled assassin could have made their way through the train yard and killed him without his guards even noticing. The blood hadn’t even dried yet, so whoever had killed him must have come here very recently.

“Too late,” she finally whispered.

Anger, then disappointment, coiled through her, and she ached to release it in a scream.

Her next words shook on the way out. “Tannis got here first.”

And all her chances at redemption filtered into the sky like smoke from a pistol.

33

Every shadow looked like Kohl. Every glint of the setting sun on a window looked like the flash of a blade. Aina tried to quell her fear as she weaved through the crowds of Lyra Avenue, every bright light of a casino or bar exposing her, but it only grew.

She veered off the main road, leaving behind the lights and letting out a tense breath. One of the posters with her face on it had fallen into a puddle. She made sure to step on it, then descended the hill into the Stacks.

Was she imagining the cold, the painful blisters on her feet, the dull ache in her empty stomach, the holes forming on her clothes, or had barely a week of being back on the streets already turned her into the pitiful girl she’d been when Kohl had found her?

She slowed down at a shadowed corner, taking stock of her weapons before going any farther into the Stacks. Opening the pouch of poison darts at her belt, she rifled through it, counting them. Her fingers brushed against something hard. Frowning, she pulled it out, then gasped and replaced it quickly before anyone saw and tried to mug her.