“He’s lucky. Most people, when Aric takes someone they love, they let him take the love they feel, too. So it hurts less. All that’s left is fear.” Triple dipped her fingers into the pot and dragged a line of black grease down Caledonia’s face from her temple to her chin. Her breath skated down Caledonia’s cheek, ghostly warm.

Caledonia’s answer was barely more than a whisper. “I think I’m afraid of him, too. Can that be real? That I love him and am afraid of who he is now?”

Triple sighed, a sad smile appearing briefly on her lips. “I can’t speak for him. But I can tell you that before I got out, I was afraid of who I was and who I would be if I wasn’t a Bullet. Fear is easy. Don’t let it overshadow the love you still have.”

Though she hadn’t asked anything of Caledonia directly, it felt like a plea. “I won’t,” she said.

With gentle hands, Triple turned her toward the cloudy mirror. Between the hair and the grease, she was barely the same person she’d been when they started. Her skin was pasty in comparison to the blonde spikes, and the black streak somehow muddied the brown of her eyes. Dressed in the same shades of tan and brown as everyone else, she was every bit a Bullet in appearance, and she had to admit that if she weren’t expecting to find a girl here, she wouldn’t.

Before she could say anything more, Pine was in the doorway, pounding with one fist as the hatch swung open. “All call. We’ve got company. Time to test that disguise.”

On deck, the transformation of the Blades was remarkable. They’d gone from the bright-eyed bunch she’d grown to know to a group that skulked across with deck with an air of barely bridled aggression, chins tucked and eyes trimmed like sails. They’d layered holsters over their shoulders and hips, and several had sliced their sleeves to reveal the bright orange scars of their bandoliers. Stepping into their midst, Caledonia had to remind herself: Not Bullets. Blades. Not a clip. A crew. Her crew.

Hanging heavy in the west, the sun burned for the horizon, dripping fire along the dark sea. In the east, a second ship now slowed to make its approach. It was a small ship, more muscle than bite, and it was brimming with Bullets.

Caledonia couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down her spine. Her gut told her to run or fight, anything but sit here and wait for them to arrive.

Sledge was standing high on the command deck. Even from a distance his frame was locked and rigid. The length of his braid fell down his back, like a spear between his shoulder blades. Every bit of him communicated strength and control.