Chapter 4

Wendy' s fingers closed around the gun. Her eyes were wild, filled with a terrifying mix of fear and determination. She was going to kill Mama Fuller to save herself.

I reacted without thinking. I lunged forward and tackled her, slamming her against the metal wall of the container. The gun clattered to the floor. We grappled for it, our hands slipping in the growing pool of Mama Fuller' s blood.

I got to it first. My fingers wrapped around the cold steel. For a split second, I saw Wendy' s face, twisted in betrayal and rage, and every part of me wanted to point the gun at her.

But I didn' t.

I spun around, leveling the pistol at Ryan. He was the monster. He was the one who needed to be stopped.

I pulled the trigger.

Click.

The sound of the empty chamber was louder than any gunshot. Ryan' s smile widened. It was all a game to him. A sick, sadistic test.

His amusement faded, replaced by a cold, methodical cruelty. He took a step forward and grabbed my right hand.

"You' re a mechanic, right?" he said, his voice low. "You need your hands."

He pulled a knife from his boot. The blade glinted in the dim light.

"Wendy," he said, not taking his eyes off me. "I' m a man of my word. You ratted her out. You get to live. But first, you have to prove your loyalty."

He held the knife out to her.

Wendy stared at the knife, then at me. There was no hesitation in her eyes. Only a desperate, selfish need to survive. She reached for it.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the pain.

Then, everything changed.

The container door flew open with a deafening bang, kicked in from the outside. Light flooded the small space, silhouetting a large, powerful figure.

Deacon.

He stood there, taking in the scene in an instant: Mama Fuller bleeding on the floor, Wendy reaching for the knife, Ryan' s cruel smile, and my hand, trapped in Ryan' s grip.

His eyes fell to the floor, to the small, metallic object lying in the pool of blood.

The spark plug. With my initials engraved on it.

He recognized it instantly. His face, which had been a mask of cold authority, contorted with a sudden, violent rage.

"What have you done?" he roared, his voice a clap of thunder.

He strode into the container and backhanded Ryan across the face, sending him stumbling backward. Two of Deacon' s men rushed in, their guns drawn.

"Get them to the infirmary," Deacon commanded, gesturing to me and Mama Fuller. "Now."

He knelt beside me, his expression a mixture of fury and something else... regret. He gently examined my hand, which Ryan had thankfully not yet cut.

"Maria," he said, his voice softer now. "It' s you. After all these years."