The comms tower loomed in front of her, still standing. No signs of bombing.

She threw open the door and lifted her gun. She took the stairs two at a time. More gunfire from above.

She stopped at the door to the tenth floor and took in a deep breath. She slowly turned the knob, opening the door just a crack.

Silence greeted her. She cautiously peered around the corner.

Two men lay dead on the floor, blood seeping out of bullet wounds in their chests. They’d been wearing masks, and both were pushed up to reveal their faces. Maisie moved a little closer. Two white dudes, in their thirties or forties. Vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t remember their names. She had a sinking feeling that she knew why.

She edged closer to the studio. It was empty, bullet holes in the wall.

The door across the hall was closed, and she raised her gun as she walked to it and turned the knob. She nudged the door open.

A gun was pointed in her face.

Hadley let out a breath, lowering the gun. “Jesus. I almost shot you.”

Maisie lowered her own weapon, glancing into the room behind Hadley. Lennon stood several feet back, also holding a gun. He gingerly set it on the table.

“You gave him a gun?” Maisie asked.

“He said he knows how to use one.”

Maisie looked at him skeptically.

“Why do you both look at me like that?” Lennon asked. “I’ve been to a shooting range before.”

“Where is Lopez?” Maisie asked.

“He left with his guys,” Hadley said. “He told me to stay here with Lennon.”

“These guys…” Maisie gestured at them.

“Reapers? Yeah.” Hadley nodded grimly.

“Shit. I thought so.” She would have known anyone else in the south. But the Reapers weren’t exactly friendly with a collector from the Lopez family.

“Is it bad out there?” Hadley asked. “What are they bombing?”

Maisie looked over her shoulder, taking a step back. “I’m going to go find—”

The stairwell door banged open. Three men wearing black masks streamed into the hallway.

“Oh, shi—” Hadley’s voice cut off as Maisie shoved her inside the room.

She stuck her gun out of the doorway and leaned forward just enough to see the men heading for them. She fired.

Bullets ricocheted off the wall. One of the men collapsed, blood spurting from his neck.

She squeezed the trigger again, but nothing happened. She was out of bullets.

A hand yanked her into the hallway suddenly, and she ducked just in time to miss the bullet aimed at her head. She dropped her gun and slammed her fist into the attacker’s stomach, ignoring the flash of pain across her injured knuckles. He wheezed and dropped to his knees.

She grabbed for his gun, but he rolled over, holding it tight against his chest. Behind her, she heard Hadley yell, followed by more gunfire. She launched onto the man’s back, yanking his mask off and then grabbing a fistful of his hair. He yelled in protest. She almost screamed too as pain shot through her hand.