Too many calls already stacking up.
By the time it’s over, the power crews finally restore electricity.
The man is alive.
Barely.
I’m still shaking when we step outside.
Someone almost died.
Not from illness.
Not from an accident.
From paperwork.
From pressure.
From monsters who never have to touch the damage they cause.
I look at Saint.
His face is calm.
Too calm.
And suddenly I understand something.
This isn’t just about saving the town anymore.
For him—
It’s about ending the war.
70
Laney
We argue in the back office of the tavern.
Not loud.
Not at first.
The baby monitor hums softly on the desk between us.
“This is exactly what she wants,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You standing in front of this. Drawing fire.”
Saint shakes his head.
“It’s not me she wants.”
His voice is steady, but there’s steel in it.
“It’s Emmy.”
The name lands heavily between us.
