"Or arrogant. Thinks he's untouchable now."
"He's wrong."
Nathan smiled, sharp and dangerous. "Yes, he is."
I stood, testing my balance. Steady enough. The shower would help, food after that. Then Boston. Then Gabriel. Then whatever came after.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For earlier. For..."
"Being fucked up enough to understand?"
"Something like that."
He shrugged. "We're all broken here. Might as well be broken together."
I thought about that as I showered. About the strange mathematics of damage—how two broken people could sometimes add up to something functional. Not whole, never whole again. But functional.
The water ran pink for a while—blood from some wound I didn't remember getting. These days I collected injuries like souvenirs, barely noticing until they started to heal. My body a roadmap of violence given and received.
When I emerged, Nathan had laid out clean clothes and weapons. The gesture was practical, but something in it made my chest tight. Care expressed through preparation. Love shown in bullets and clean socks.
"Eat," he said, pushing the takeout container toward me.
I forced down noodles that tasted like nothing, fuel for a body that had forgotten pleasure except in its most twisted forms. Nathan watched to make sure I finished, then handed me the files he'd compiled.
"Three properties," he said. "We hit them in order of likelihood. Quick and quiet until we confirm he's there."
"And then?"
"Then we do what we came to do."
What we came to do. Such a simple phrase for something so complex. Kill Gabriel. End the source. Stop the infectionbefore it spread. But I knew it wouldn't be that clean. Nothing with Gabriel ever was.
"He'll have contingencies," I said. "Escape routes. Backup plans. Other facilities we don't know about."
"Probably."
"He might not even be there. Might have moved on again."
"Possible."
"This could all be for nothing."
Nathan looked at me steadily. "Or it could be everything. Only one way to find out."
He was right. The only way out was through. The only way to end this was to follow the breadcrumbs wherever they led. Even if they led to more violence. More broken pieces of myself scattered across warehouse floors.
I strapped on weapons with practiced efficiency. Knife at the hip. Gun at the shoulder. The surgical kit that had become my signature. Tools for taking apart the world Gabriel had built, one screaming piece at a time.
"Ready?" Nathan asked.
I thought about lying. About pretending I was the hardened hunter I'd been playing at these past weeks. Instead, I told the truth.
"No. But let's go anyway."
He smiled, understanding in the expression. We were neither of us ready for what came next. Too damaged. Too invested. Too far gone to stop now.
But that was the point, wasn't it? Gabriel had made me to endure. To survive. To adapt to any situation and keep going. He just hadn't anticipated what I'd adapt into. What survival would look like when twisted into vengeance.
