“I tried to undermine him several years ago. He was growing too strong, eating up the exposed packs, swallowing the wastes’ good men and turning them into Loyalists. The Reaper suggested we bring an explosive in with one of our deliveries. Detonate it while in his storeroom, call it an accident. Then, with his supplies destroyed, we could bring fighters in during our next powder delivery. Hide them beneath the wagon covers and take the General out.” She pauses for a moment. “One of his Four caught us lighting the explosive. Reed, I think he was called. He smothered the fuse, turned us over to the General.”

The Prime glances east, in the direction of Bedrock.

“He killed my accomplice immediately. Then two more of the Reaper’s soldiers for good measure. It’s a good thing Luce stays behind to defend Powder Town during deliveries or she’d be dead too.” Genuine fear flits across her features, and I know I am right about what I saw earlier. Luce the Reaper is more than a soldier to the Prime.

“And me?” she goes on. “It all happened so fast. The whistle, the pain.” She touches the eye patch lightly. “‘If you try anything like this again, our agreement is void,’ he told me. ‘I will march on Powder Town and overrun you. Wipe out your people. Bring mine in to take over powder production. Torture your Chemist until she reveals how it is made. And I will keep you alive to witness it all. Only you. So that you know, every day, how much you failed them.’”

She turns back to me, and there is a terrible heaviness to her good eye. Whatever responsibility I am feeling for my pack, she feels the same thing for the people of Powder Town. I was foolish to ever think otherwise.

“I am sorry about your pack, Delta of Dead River, I am. But I cannot help you save them at this time. I will take on the General someday, but only when we are absolutely prepared to confront him. When I know with certainty that we will not fail. And I fear that day will be long after he’s executed your family.”

I nod, feeling numb. I don’t like it, and I hate that she can’t help, but I don’t hate her. She’s only doing what I would in her place—protecting her pack, defending her home.

“What’s the prototype?” I ask again, curious.

“I’m afraid that is for only me to know. Me, the Reaper, and the select few she chooses to help test it. The fewer people who know about it, the less likely that information about it will slip into the wrong hands.” She raises a brow as she studies me. “What is it that the General wants you to read?”

“I’m afraid that is for only me to know,” I repeat.