His eyes flew open, and he bolted upright, his mind instantly clear and searching for meaning. He glanced around at the same time as he felt the back of his neck, which was more than just damp. He looked at his hand, which came away nearly black, the color of blood at night. It’s not yours.

He turned to his right and saw the fallen form of Griffin Huntsmen, who now lay dead in the middle of Hidden Refuge Drive from a gunshot wound to his left temple. Blood pooled around his head on the pavement, and Zack felt a genuine wave of relief wash over him. The fact that he hadn’t been the one to take Griffin’s life or even defeat him in a fight no longer mattered. He was just grateful to be alive, images of his family lingering on the picture screen inside his head. He had stared down a real-life devil incarnate, stood tall, and survived.

He glanced up to Belyakov, who stood less than five feet away and was looking down at him with concern. Zack opened his mouth to speak and managed to croak, “Thanks . . . Thought . . . you weren’t . . . going to . . . help.”

Belyakov smiled and nodded in the direction behind Zack. “Don’t thank me, my friend. Thank him.”

Zack, puzzled, turned and saw the standing figure of Stephen Flores, son of the murdered Esli Flores, holding a Glock pistol, still aimed at the deceased Griffin Huntsmen. His casual clothes whipped in the wind, his dark hair cascading across his forehead. But his eyes shone brightly, not with regret, but with satisfaction for having saved Zack’s life, but more importantly, for avenging his father’s murder. It always comes full circle.

Sam Hawkins stood on his left, and Ben and Ben’s father flanked him on the right. No one spoke, the finality of the moment that had ended the cycle of violence for the night hung like a pall over all of them.

Zack nodded at Stephen, who finally removed his eyes from the body of the only man he would kill during his life. His avenging angel nodded in return, lowered the Glock, and stepped backward into his own thoughts.

Zack turned to Sam and smiled, relieved that she and Ben were safe and unharmed. A moment later, she was on her knees, embracing him before he could react. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said in rapid fire. “I knew you’d be okay. Come on. Let’s get you on your feet.” She pulled back, and moments later, she and Ben had Zack upright, albeit slightly unsteady, the knife still lodged in his leg, which now throbbed painfully.

From the edge of the slope where Griffin’s SUV had left the road, a voice exclaimed, “Jesus Christ, I leave you alone for a few minutes to catch this sonofabitch, and all hell breaks loose.”