Video feed.
West perimeter.
I punch in the codes, override the lock, and the screen floods with motion.
Vrok.
He’s a blur of red and rage, tearing through enemies like they’re nothing. Hooves soldiers scatter in all directions—some firing, some trying to run. It doesn’t matter. He’s too fast. Too strong. Every swing of his blade drops another body. His roar splits the air like thunder.
But there’s no strategy.
No cover.
No exit plan.
Just death.
Mine or theirs.
The realization hits me like a gut punch.
He left to die.
Not to win. Not to save the town. But to protect me. To keep the lie alive. To end things before Large Marj can use him to break me.
“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no.”
I’m moving before I’ve even finished the thought.
Boots on.
Gear slung.
Pulse rifle. Blade. Emergency medpack. One of Cynna’s signal jammers.
Mayor Tebbles tries to stop me at the door. “You can’t?—”
“I can.”
“He told us not to follow.”
“Then it’s a good thing I never listen.”
I slam the override, step into the blaring dawn, and run.
His trail is chaos. Blood and smoke and craters where walls used to be. I follow it like a lifeline. Like a fuse already lit. Like if I don’t reach him in time, the explosion will take me too.
Because I’m not the Butcher.
But I am his.
And I’m not letting him die alone.
CHAPTER 25
VROK
The Rovin’ Hooves compound doesn’t have real walls. Just corrugated steel, motion sensors, and the kind of arrogance that comes from ruling by fear for too long. I don’t knock.
