Two men were running down the bank—Jefferson and Archer. “Myers, is that you?”

“He’s over here.” Strayhorn tried to yell, but found that he could barely raise his voice. The pain in his side had been replaced with a cold, tingling sensation. Consciousness was fading. He’d been hit worse than he thought. He’d died before though . . . He could come back. Dwayne Myers couldn’t.

Franks had dragged the crippled Nemesis soldier over and dropped him on top of the one missing most of his head. He went to Myers and Strayhorn, grabbed both of their collars and pulled them the rest of the way out of the river. “Status?”

“Bad,” Strayhorn gasped. Then he coughed and blood shot from his mouth.

Franks looked at his side. “Gunshot wound. Severe fragmentation. Bubbles . . . Lungs are perforated.” He put one big hand on Strayhorn’s ribs, and Strayhorn was surprised how gentle it was, or maybe it just seemed that way because he was going into shock. Franks frowned. “Blood color . . . Liver hit. That will be fatal.”

“You suck at delivering bad news.”

“I’m sorry.” Franks moved over and knelt next to Myers and took his pulse.

“Dad told me you were never sorry about anything.”

Franks bowed his head. “He was mistaken.”

* * *

He’d been too late. Franks had seen thousands of mortals die. He knew the signs too well. Myers was fading. There was nothing that could be done at this point.

Myers cracked his eyes open. “Franks?”

“I am here.”

“How’s Tom?”

Even at a time like this, Franks didn’t even think to lie to comfort him. “Dying.”

“He’ll get over it . . . He takes after his real father that way.”

Huh? Before he could ask for clarification, the other two agents had reached them. “Archer.” Franks nodded toward the mutilated bodies of the Nemesis creations. The demon spirits had latched on and were refusing to let go. Their redundant systems were keeping them alive. “They’ll heal soon. Burn them.”

“Yes, sir.” It didn’t matter that Franks was technically a fugitive, had been relabeled as a monster, and was the most wanted man in the world—when he gave an order MCB agents followed it. Archer ran back toward their car to get an incendiary.

Like the demons, Myers was only hanging on by sheer willpower. “Grant . . .” Myers whispered.

“I’m here, Director.” He knelt next to him.

“You remind me of myself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I was a dick at that age too . . . Now go help Tom.”

Jefferson looked to Franks. It wouldn’t do any good, but most humans did not like to die alone. Franks nodded. Jefferson went to help the rookie.

“I will avenge you,” Franks said. He did not really know how to comfort anyone.

“Finish this, Franks, but don’t tear the whole country down to do it. Promise me that.”

“Yes, sir.”