We creep up the stairs like shadows—silent, steady. Peering around the corner, I can make out the Loyalists guarding the General’s room. Eyes scanning the hall. Modified rifles held at the ready.

Reed grabs me above the elbow and totes me into view. The Loyalists’ eyes twitch, first wide with surprise, then narrowing with doubt. Reed is shooting before they can act. They go down like cornstalks, cleared for replanting.

Reed jogs ahead to check them. Gives me an all-clear sign, then draws the beaded curtain aside, revealing a slice of the General’s room.

We step through together.

A sitting area, remnants of lunch still on the table. A bed with a curtained canopy. A bathing area fed by a pipe that comes through the wall. The waterfall itself—channeled into this room when the General needs it. Running water for him, when his workers aren’t even given a clean drink. Tapestries hang on the walls—some beaded, others woven. Propped up against one wall is a giant slab of metal, the Federation’s winged bird symbol displayed proudly. On the far wall, a balcony extends into the sky.

“Where is he?” I whisper.

Reed shakes his head.

Something’s not right. The room was guarded. He should be here.

That’s when the metal panel falls, shoved forward into the room. It clips Reed’s shoulder, and the General appears from behind it, roping an arm beneath Reed’s neck as his mag-rifle goes clattering to the floor. Before the General can pull Reed firmly to his chest, my brother kicks the rifle to me.

I pick it up. Aim.

“Don’t even think about it,” the General snarls. He’s hidden behind Reed, only half his face visible. There’s no shot I can take, not without risking Reed’s life in the process.

“Drop it,” the General demands. “Drop it right now.” He tightens his grip beneath Reed’s neck, and Reed gags. The General holds a knife in his free hand, blade positioned at Reed’s side, just above his hip. A simple thrust, and Reed’s stomach will be pierced. A slice, and his entrails will slide from him, gutted like an animal.

“Delta, take the shot,” Reed says. “Shoot through me.”

The Prime’s words echo back to me. Make their deaths matter. But this can’t be what she meant. We’ve already sacrificed so many of our own. I can’t bear to do it. Asher is already dead. Harlie, too. All the people on their wagon. Dozens more from the others. Maybe even workers in the fields.

But we’re so close, and my finger twitches, knowing I should pull the trigger. What is one more death? A new life will replace Reed. Death and life—the cycle, just as Zuly promised. Reed’s life for a new future. Kill Reed and kill the General with the same shot.