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The gun he carried was ancient—obviously, but I didn’t doubt it would fire. A man didn’t stand as confidently as Bruce did unless he knew he held all the cards. And he did, no matter how much that rankled. I’d almost pulled off the perfect scam. Almost. I just hadn’t accounted for the final piece of the puzzle.

As the only other armed man in the room, Bruce swung the gun toward Keaton. “Drop the knife,” he said in a cold and commanding voice. “And then kick it over to me.”

It was a shame Keaton’s insistence on taking William down at close quarters meant his crossbow was on the other side of the room. A gun and a crossbow were more of an equal match than a gun and a knife.

“Do it,” I said when Keaton hesitated. “He will pull the trigger.”

Keaton obeyed, sending the knife spinning across the floor with one swift kick. Bruce stepped on the handle without taking his eyes off us.

“You,” he said, flicking the barrel in my direction. “Over there with the other one.”

I crossed the room to stand shoulder to shoulder with Keaton. There were plenty of things I’d argue about—but not with a gun pointed at me. We were close enough to touch, my nerve endings lighting up at being back in proximity with him. “Sorry,” I said. “I think I’ve lost my touch.”

Keaton nudged me with his shoulder. “You don’t have to be sorry. You did everything you promised and more. I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s my blinkered vision that’s brought us to this point.”

Now that Bruce had us both in his line of sight, he stepped forward. “How about somebody telling me what’s going on here?”

“Shoot them,” William ordered. He pointed at me. “Him first, then the other one.”

“Keaton,” Keaton said, eyes fixed on William, even though he wasn’t the one holding the gun. “My name is Keaton. Remember it, for when I haunt you from beyond the grave. When you wake up drenched in sweat, I want that to be the name on your lips.”

It was a fantastic speech, one laced with bravado. The kind I could imagine myself saying, if he hadn’t beaten me to it.

I smiled. “What he said. Only make it both of us haunting you.”

Bruce didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he swung the barrel toward me. “What’s your name?” he asked.

William made a sound of distaste in his throat. “Does it matter? We’re not giving him a gravestone, so we don’t need to know what to carve on it.”

I studied Bruce. Something in his demeanor was off. “August,” I said, looking him square in the eye.

“And why did you infiltrate the Seekers, August? What were you hoping to gain?”

William reached for the gun, but Bruce shoved his hand aside. “I want to hear it.”

“Do you want the long or the short version?” I asked.

“Short. Very short. Less than thirty seconds.”

I glanced at Keaton. The look in his eyes said the floor was mine. There was no point in lying, not now. We’d already told William the truth, thinking he wouldn’t live long enough to use it.

“You took Keaton’s sister.”

“Serena,” Keaton added.

“I know her,” Bruce said.

“You knew her,” I corrected. “She turned. I gave her a mercy killing before showing up at the castle.”

“So you came for William?” Bruce jerked his head toward the man beside him, William growing twitchier the longer we froze him out of the conversation.

“Since when do you call me William?” William snapped. “I’m Beloved Father to you.”

A fleeting quirk touched Bruce’s lips, gone in less than a second. Someone not used to searching for micro-expressions wouldn’t have noticed it. I was, and I did. “I came for William,” I confirmed. “The plan was to lure him here so Keaton could kill him.” I spread my hands wide. “And here we are.”

“’Here we are,’” Bruce echoed.

“Now will you shoot them?” William demanded. “Please.” Acid dripped from the word, and I wondered how long it had been since he’d said it to anyone. “I have things to do. A flock to tend.”