“Bullshit,” Dani protested.
But Nina’s expression had darkened, and she spoke haltingly. “Have we made you feel that way, too?”
“No.” Maya reached out to grip Nina’s wrist. “Nina, no. You’ve always been the opposite. Hell, remember when you first took me in? I was scared to leave the damn house. You two taught me how to take care of myself.”
“Sure,” Nina agreed. “But I should have seen that you needed more.”
“How? I didn’t know I needed more.” Maya leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “But it felt good to use those parts of my brain. It felt like I’ve been pulling my punches my whole life, and I finally just got to swing.”
“Then keep swinging.” Dani dropped across the bed. “What other kind of magic tricks can you do?”
“Fuck if I know.” She grinned at Dani. “Got any ideas?”
“Hmm.” The look Dani gave her was pure innocence. “Maybe we should ask Gray.”
Maya lunged toward Nina. “Give me the pillow back. I’m going to hit her this time.”
“Try it, baby,” Dani taunted.
“No.” Nina held Maya back and pinned Dani with a mock severe look. “You two want to duel, we do it properly.”
“Fuck that,” Maya muttered. “If she wants to duel, I’m gonna tell Rafe she doodled his name in her diary with hearts around it.”
Dani gasped. “Lies.”
“Yeah, I took that too far,” Maya admitted. “You would never keep a diary. You’d probably just carve his initials into trees with one of the five thousand knives you had on you.”
“He wishes.”
“Yeah. He really does.” Maya leaned into Nina’s side, relieved that the tactile contact didn’t overwhelm her. Sometimes she just needed a damn hug. “Okay, I will consider the possibility of kissing.”
“Don’t worry,” Dani said immediately. “I won’t tease you.”
“Yes, you will. And you’re the only one who gets to.” Maya wrapped her arm around Nina’s waist, leaning into her embrace. Tears stung her eyes. “Have I mentioned lately that I love you both, even when you make me do cardio?”
“It’s always nice to hear it again.”
“Yes, yes, love all around.” Dani rested her chin on her hands. “I want to hear more about this superpower Maya has. Spare absolutely no ballistic detail, please.”
Maya laughed. And then she obeyed, because she had never been able to deny Dani or Nina anything.
They were the only family she’d ever had.
TECHCORPS PROPRIETARY DATA, L1 SECURITY CLEARANCE
Our current aptitude and assessment criteria for recruitment to Protectorate sniper training overwhelmingly selects for candidates who show significant antisocial behavior. Attached, please find my full analysis, which is based on data compiled over the last two decades.
I believe that continuing to overlook these warning signs will result in tragedy.
Internal Memo, June 2065
NINE
Gray was a light sleeper.
Some people assumed that was a habit all soldiers shared. And it was true that years of military life and fieldwork had shaped Gray’s sleep patterns. But some Protectorate recruits in his class had slept like logs, and not even the harshest punishments levied by the drill instructors had been able to break them of it.
It had always baffled Gray. How could anyone lie there, snoring and drooling, insensate to the activity around them, much less blaring alarms? If he’d ever slept like that in the group home, he’d have had all his belongings stolen—or worse.
He’d gotten a little better over the years. He no longer jerked awake at distant noises, his heart thudding painfully, but the barest whisper of footsteps would still rouse him. He’d open his eyes, lying still and alert as he assessed the potential danger of the situation.
He didn’t get the chance this time. There was no noise, no warning, only steely fingers that locked around his throat. They pressed in on either side of his neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain.
Most people assumed that effective strangulation was about being unable to breathe. But it took over thirty pounds of pressure to completely occlude the trachea—you really had to use an arm or a knee, and fucking commit. But a fraction of that pressure applied precisely to the major blood vessels of the neck?
Your target would lose consciousness in as few as ten short, easy seconds.
Instinct kicked in. Gray bucked, attempting to break free of his assailant’s grip, but whoever it was held tight. A heavy weight dropped onto Gray, pressing him into the cot, quelling his struggles.
But not trapping his hands. He lashed out at the shadowy figure on top of him, a flurry of blows that should have landed. But his attacker ducked and bobbed his head, somehow managing to avoid Gray’s fists.
A gentle rasp cut through the pounding of the blood in Gray’s ears, the sound as familiar as it was deadly—a knife clearing a ballistic nylon sheath.
Shit.
Gray twisted his body as the blade slammed down, tearing through his pillow. The second blow sliced across the top of Gray’s shoulder, and he gritted his teeth against the searing pain. His assailant was already adapting to Gray’s evasive maneuvers, which meant the next thrust wouldn’t miss.
With a mighty heave, Gray shoved hard at his attacker, spilling them both from the bed to the floor. His slashed shoulder hit the concrete with an agonizing jolt that made his vision go white. A roar filled his ears, so loud he almost missed the sound of the knife skidding across the floor. He pushed through the pain and rolled, struggling to pin his attacker.
He couldn’t make it stick. Their murderous intruder was well-trained, maybe even as well as Gray himself. They struggled, crashing about his little area of the makeshift barracks, slamming into boxes and knocking them over. Once, the would-be killer—because that’s what this was, no doubt, an attempted assassination—managed to grab hold of Gray’s hair and smack his head against the floor.
The world imploded. An inky blackness darker than the room began to dance before Gray’s eyes, and he kicked out. His foot grazed the heavy metal footlocker at the end of his cot, and Gray almost laughed.
He might not be at full fighting trim, but he’d grown up hard, and he wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.
He clutched the front of his attacker’s jacket and rolled again, using their joint momentum to pick up speed. He calculated the distance automatically, adding force at just the right time to whack his uninvited guest’s head against the footlocker.
The resulting grunt of pain startled Gray. Before he could pause to figure out why, the man surged up, and Gray hit him with a hard right to the jaw. The force of the blow reverberated up Gray’s arm, and he drew back for a second, harder swing. Rule of twos—one to stun, and one to end the fight for good.
“Go on, kid. Do it.”
The low words scraped at Gray’s brain, and he froze, his fist upraised, his heart in his throat. The roar of blood in his ears was back, filling his head until there was no room for anything else. No action, no thought, just still, icy horror.
Vaguely, he heard yelling. Heavy, running footsteps. Then the overheads switched on, flooding the barracks with feverish, blinding light.