He only looked at me, then at Paige as she approached, and finally up at Griffin. Griffin shook his head, to tell me he didn’t recognize the young man. It was like being in a silent movie, no one saying a word, all too aware of the possibility that whoever was on the other end of the young man’s radio was close enough to hear.

“Lucas?” Paige broke the silence. “Do you know him? Does he work for your dad’s Cabal?”

Griffin glowered at her and even I wondered what she was doing…until the young man’s gaze shot to me, his lips parting in a silent “Oh, fuck.”

The first words out of the young man’s mouth were, among post-capture utterances, second in popularity only to “I didn’t do it.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” he said.

“Where’s Carlos?” I asked.

“If I knew—” His teeth clicked shut, expression closing down. “I want immunity.”

Griffin’s fist hit his jaw with a thwack. Paige covered a wince by looking away.

“Mr. Cortez asked you a question,” Griffin said.

“I—I want immunity.”

The demand fell into a plea, blood dripping down his chin. If he could still talk, though, the blow had been softer than it looked.

I waved for Griffin to hold back—pure theater, as he had no intention of hitting the youth again if it could be avoided. Then I nodded for the young man to continue.

“It’s all gone to hell,” he said, slumping in Griffin’s grip. “He said it would be easy, but now the girl’s dead and—”

“What girl?” Paige said before stopping herself. An apologetic look my way. “Sorry. You said the girl’s dead and…”

He shook his head.

“Where’s Carlos?” I asked.

“I don’t—”

The young man stopped short, gaping at me. Then he slumped in Griffin’s hands. Griffin jerked him upright again, but his head lolled, and when Griffin pulled back his hand, it glistened wetly in the dim light.

Something stung my shoulder. Then another blow, this one square in my back, so hard it knocked the wind out of me and sent me sprawling into the gravel.

“Down!” Griffin shouted as he shoved me.

“Paige!”

I saw her pale face, eyes wide, uncomprehending. I grabbed her legs and yanked her down. The bullet struck the ground a foot from Griffin’s boot, sending up a geyser of dirt.

I reached for the door, but Griffin already had it open. He grabbed for me, but I dove through, shouting for him to get Paige instead. I slid across a carpeted floor, the pile burning my cheek, my injured shoulder colliding with a desk chair. I threw it aside and scrambled back to Paige as Griffin slammed the door.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I just—I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. A sniper?”