We reach Maeve’s suite. The door is slightly ajar. I kick it open, my gun lead, my finger a hair-width away from the trigger.
Mrs. Higgins is on the floor. She hasn't been shot; she’s fainted, her face a pale, waxy mask. Maeve is huddled in the corner of her bed, clutching a stuffed rabbit, her face streaked with tears. She’s let out a broken, terrified wail when she sees me.
"Dada!"
I holster the gun in a heartbeat. I can feel the blood on my hands, the grime of the basement still under my nails, and now the fresh heat of the fight. I look at Atara. She’s still standing there, blinking rapidly, her chest heaving.
"Atara. Come here," I command.
I scoop Maeve up. She’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering. "Daddy, what’s happening?”
“Nothing, Maeve, it’s just… fireworks.”
“The fireworks are too loud, Dada! They broke the windows!"
"I know, baby. I know," I say, my voice cracking as I try to force it into a calm, paternal register. I look her in the eye, trying to hide the monster she saw earlier. "Listen to me. We’re playing a game. Remember the Treasure Hunt game? The one with Dora?"
Maeve nods, a hiccupping sob escaping her.
"We have to be very, very quiet to find the treasure," I say, reaching into the bedside drawer. I pull out her bright pink noise-canceling headphones. "If you put these on and don't take them off until I say, we win. Okay? No matter what happens, don't take them off. It’s the Super Secret Rule."
She reaches for them, her little fingers trembling. I slide them over her ears, clicking the "on" switch for the white noise. She blinks, the world suddenly silent for her. I give her a thumbs up, and she tries to smile, clutching her rabbit.
I look at Atara. The shock is starting to crack. Her eyes are darting from Maeve to the blood on my shoulder.
"Grab her bag," I snap at her before her brain starts forming answers to the questions in her head. "Now."
She moves. It’s a jerky, mechanical motion, but she grabs the small backpack.
"Kieran, take the front. Echo, you’re the tail," I order as we exit the room.
The descent to the garage is a blur of violence. We hit the service stairs. Two men in tactical gear burst through the fire door on the third floor. I don't think. I fire. Two rounds, center mass. They go down like sacks of flour.
Atara lets out a muffled sound—a choked-off gasp. I don't look at her. I can’t. I have to keep my eyes on the corners.
We reach the garage were Sean is already waiting. The black SUVs are already idling, the exhaust fumes filling the concrete space. Echo clears the perimeter while Kieran holds the door. I shove Atara into the back seat of the lead vehicle.
"Get in. All the way to the other side," I say.
I slide Maeve into the middle seat, buckling her in. She’s looking at me, her eyes curious now behind the headphones, completely insulated from the sound of the tires screeching and the final exchange of gunfire behind us as we barrel out of the garage.
The SUV hits the coast road at eighty miles an hour.
I sit back, my chest heaving, the cold air hitting my bare skin. I’m covered in sweat, plaster dust, and a fine spray of red. I look at my hands. They’re shaking.
Kieran is driving, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. "We’ve got two tails. Echo is handling the first one."
I reach into the center console and pull out a clean black t-shirt, pulling it over my head. I need to be a person again.
The silence in the car is suffocating.
Then, my phone rings.
I stare at the screen. Private Number.
I answer it.
"Ahh, you’ve gotten soft, Lorcan, I’m almost disappointed,” the voice says. It’s a rasping, wet sound, like lungs filled with sand. But I know it. I’d know it in hell. Silas.
