He pulled the trigger and fired—the dog slumped over onto its side. The other dogs in the kennel scattered at the sound of the gunshot but quickly returned to their sitting positions.

“Stop it!” Alena screamed.

“Which one is the cadaver dog?” he demanded again. “Better tell me now—you might have a few dogs left.”

Alena bolted into the trailer with Ruckus at her heels.

Riddick lowered the gun when he heard the flimsy door bang shut. He turned and looked at the trailer. “C’mon, that’s not going to get you anywhere.”

Inside the trailer, Alena ran to her bedroom and threw open a closet door. The shelves were filled with stacks of sealed plastic bags containing shirts, socks, trousers—everything her father had ever touched, carefully sealed to preserve his scent.

Outside, Riddick crossed to the trailer and shouted, “Don’t make me come in there after you!”

Alena rummaged frantically through the bags, searching for one in particular. She found it on the top shelf—a bag containing a small white hand towel. She pulled it from the shelf and looked at the bag; in handwritten letters on the front was a single word: NICK.

“I don’t have time to play games!” Riddick shouted. He raised his gun and aimed at the trailer. He fired three shots into the trailer wall, aiming high so that the bullets would strike above Alena’s head. The bullets punched through the thin wall like an ice pick through tinfoil.

In her bedroom, Alena heard the shots and felt splinters of wood and chunks of drywall rain down on her; one shot caught the corner of a mirror and sent shards of glass flying across the room. She covered her head and dropped to the floor; Ruckus stood beside her and barked indignantly at the trailer wall.

“Stop wasting my time!” Riddick shouted. “You’ve got ten seconds to come out of there!”

Alena ripped open the bag and pulled out the towel. She held it out to Ruckus and let him take in the scent; the dog ran its nose back and forth over the rough fabric, then looked up at Alena. She snapped her fingers and pointed toward the door.

Riddick swung the gun around toward the kennels and pointed it at Phlegethon’s head. “I’m about to shoot another one of your dogs, and it’s a big one this time. I’d get out here if I were you.”

“Stop it!”

Riddick turned and looked. Alena was standing in the trailer doorway; a small dog squeezed past her ankles and raced off toward the woods. Alena let the door swing shut behind her and charged toward the man. “Who dares to set foot on my land?” she said, slashing an X across her chest with one finger and making a menacing mystic sign.

Riddick frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”