A LOUD BOOM sounded from behind Maisie. She turned.
Boom.
Louder.
Gunshots.
Around her, people began running.
She spun in a circle, trying to find the source of the gunfire.
The building next to her exploded.
Maisie flew backward, hitting the ground hard. She squeezed her body into a tight ball as debris rained down around her.
“Take cover. I repeat—TAKE COVER. The Q is under attack.”
Hadley’s voice rang out from somewhere as the debris stopped.
Maisie slowly lifted her head. Burning chunks of building were scattered all around her. She sat back on her heels.
The building in front of her was half gone. A charred, blackened body was strewn across the grass.
“Take cover,” Hadley’s voice repeated from nearby speakers. “Follow instructions from Lopez family members. Do not—” Hadley’s voice cut off with a scream. Over the speakers, gunfire sounded.
She heard the rush of footsteps, and quickly stood and turned to see Nathan rounding the corner. He was panting, his nearly-toothless mouth open wide.
“Maisie, what the hell is going on?” he yelled.
She shook her head. Gunfire rang out again, and she turned to look. It was maybe two blocks over.
Behind her, Nathan yelled something.
“What?” She glanced back at him. He was already turned to go, but he paused, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“I said, your arm is on FIRE!”
She looked down. Flames licked up the shirtsleeve of her left arm. Her brain clicked into place, and she could suddenly feel the heat on her skin.
“Oh, shit.” She hit the ground, smothering the fire in the grass. She straightened, and quickly pushed the blackened sleeve up. Her arm was red and slightly singed, and it burned a little, but the damage wasn’t too bad. Her hand, though, ached even worse. Not a great day for her entire left arm.
She got to her feet and did a quick inventory of the rest of her body. Nothing else was broken.
She reached back, pulling out the gun tucked into the waistband of her pants. She ran down the street toward the comms tower, keeping her weapon pointed at the ground and pumping her arms as fast as she could.
A blast erupted from her left. She skidded away from it, using her arm to shield her face, and then took off again, her boots pounding the pavement.
The comms tower loomed in front of her, still standing. No signs of bombing.
She threw open the door and lifted her gun. She took the stairs two at a time. More gunfire from above.
She stopped at the door to the tenth floor and took in a deep breath. She slowly turned the knob, opening the door just a crack.
Silence greeted her. She cautiously peered around the corner.
Two men lay dead on the floor, blood seeping out of bullet wounds in their chests. They’d been wearing masks, and both were pushed up to reveal their faces. Maisie moved a little closer. Two white dudes, in their thirties or forties. Vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t remember their names. She had a sinking feeling that she knew why.
She edged closer to the studio. It was empty, bullet holes in the wall.
The door across the hall was closed, and she raised her gun as she walked to it and turned the knob. She nudged the door open.
A gun was pointed in her face.
Hadley let out a breath, lowering the gun. “Jesus. I almost shot you.”
Maisie lowered her own weapon, glancing into the room behind Hadley. Lennon stood several feet back, also holding a gun. He gingerly set it on the table.
“You gave him a gun?” Maisie asked.
“He said he knows how to use one.”
Maisie looked at him skeptically.
“Why do you both look at me like that?” Lennon asked. “I’ve been to a shooting range before.”
“Where is Lopez?” Maisie asked.
“He left with his guys,” Hadley said. “He told me to stay here with Lennon.”
“These guys…” Maisie gestured at them.
“Reapers? Yeah.” Hadley nodded grimly.
“Shit. I thought so.” She would have known anyone else in the south. But the Reapers weren’t exactly friendly with a collector from the Lopez family.
“Is it bad out there?” Hadley asked. “What are they bombing?”
Maisie looked over her shoulder, taking a step back. “I’m going to go find—”
The stairwell door banged open. Three men wearing black masks streamed into the hallway.
“Oh, shi—” Hadley’s voice cut off as Maisie shoved her inside the room.
She stuck her gun out of the doorway and leaned forward just enough to see the men heading for them. She fired.
Bullets ricocheted off the wall. One of the men collapsed, blood spurting from his neck.
She squeezed the trigger again, but nothing happened. She was out of bullets.
A hand yanked her into the hallway suddenly, and she ducked just in time to miss the bullet aimed at her head. She dropped her gun and slammed her fist into the attacker’s stomach, ignoring the flash of pain across her injured knuckles. He wheezed and dropped to his knees.
She grabbed for his gun, but he rolled over, holding it tight against his chest. Behind her, she heard Hadley yell, followed by more gunfire. She launched onto the man’s back, yanking his mask off and then grabbing a fistful of his hair. He yelled in protest. She almost screamed too as pain shot through her hand.
“Hey.” The voice was oddly calm, and she took a quick glance to the side to see a hand holding a gun out to her.
She grabbed it, aimed it at the man’s head, and fired. He stilled beneath her.
She climbed off his body. It was Lennon who had handed her the gun, and he stood there, eyes wide.
“Thanks,” she said, glancing into the room. Hadley stood over the other dead man.
“Sure,” Lennon said. “I figured you had a better shot of hitting the target than I did.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“I said I knew how to use a gun, not that I was good with it.”
“I have a question,” Hadley said, stepping over the man she’d killed to join them in the hallway. “Why do all these assholes keep coming up here with guns? To the tenth floor? I’m usually the only one up here.”
Maisie rolled the man in front of her onto his back and grabbed the gun that fell out of his hand. Another Reaper. She recognized this one. He worked security at one of their bars.
“Let’s go.” She clicked the safety on the gun and handed it to Lennon. “You two are sitting ducks up here.”
“Does this happen a lot?” Lennon asked as they jogged to the stairwell. Maisie pushed open the door and started down the steps.
“No,” Hadley said. “There haven’t been bombings since…”
“Since we fought the Spencers and divided into north and south.” Maisie threw a glance over her shoulder and saw her feelings mirrored on Hadley’s face. This attack felt very similar to that one, and they’d barely defeated the Spencers to keep the south. She wondered if the Reapers had increased their numbers more than anyone had realized, and were taking a page from the Spencers’ book.
Maisie pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairwell and jogged across the lobby. She stopped at the door, holding her arm out to indicate Lennon and Hadley should wait.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Lennon asked. He stared at her arm, horrified.
She glanced over at it. The cut on her knuckles had opened up again, spilling blood down her hand.
“I’m fine. It looks worse than it is.” She peered out the smudged glass door. The street was empty, an overturned garbage can rolling to a stop at the curb.
“Are you sure? It—”
“Do you usually ask so many questions during a gun fight?” she interrupted, cocking an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.
“Come on. Lennon, walk behind me. Hadley, walk behind him and keep an eye on our backs.”
She opened the door, and the two lined up behind her as ordered. She stepped out of the building and onto the street.
“Where are we going?” Hadley asked.
“We’re going to drop off Lennon at my apartment, and then go find Lopez or Declan and figure out what the hell is going on.”
They walked in silence to the end of the block, and then for several more. They turned a corner onto a street lined with small houses. Maisie stopped short.
Lopez was on his knees in the middle of the street. A truck sat not far away, two men standing in the bed, guns in hand. Another masked man stood over Lopez, a gun pointed at his head.
“Go back, go back,” she whispered, turning and gesturing for Lennon and Hadley to move. They ran back around the corner.
“What?” Hadley whispered.
“They have Lopez. We need to—” She cut herself off, glancing at their surroundings. They’d see her coming a mile away if she just waltzed down the street. She needed to get inside one of the homes. Maybe then she could surprise them.
She ran to the back gate of the closest house, opening it and sprinting across the lawn. She hopped the chain-link fence, glancing behind her to see Hadley and Lennon climbing over as well.
They jumped the next two fences, until they hit a small red house near the middle of the block. She ran to the back door and peered in the windows. An empty kitchen table, and beyond that, a living room. Seemed deserted.
She tried the door. It opened easily.
Her shoes squeaked faintly as she stepped inside. Behind her, she heard Lennon’s and Hadley’s footsteps following.
She checked her left, and then right.
An older man and a woman were huddled together on the kitchen floor. They were clutching hands, eyes wide. They looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t remember their names.
She lifted one finger to her lips. They both nodded. The woman actually appeared a little relieved, like the sight of Maisie in her kitchen was a welcome one.
Maisie darted to the front window and just barely nudged the curtain to the side so she could see to the street. Lopez was still on the ground. The guy above him had his phone pressed to his ear, gun still aimed at Lopez.
“I need to distract the guys in the truck,” she whispered. She glanced back at the couple on the floor. “Do you have any explosives?”
Lennon looked at her with a baffled expression, like this was the weirdest question he’d ever heard.
“No,” the man said, with genuine disappointment. His eyes lit up. “I’ve got lighter fluid, though.” He stood up and dashed out the back door.
The woman jumped to her feet and opened the cabinet under the sink. She began pulling glass bottles from her recycling bin.
“Yesss, great idea,” Hadley said. She grabbed a dish rag off the sink and tore it in half.
“Are you making…” Lennon watched as the man brought the lighter fluid back inside and began pouring it into the bottle. He didn’t finish his question. He’d clearly figured out the answer.
“I need someone to throw it,” Maisie said. “And I’ll go for the guy with Lopez. Hadley, how’s your arm? Think you can throw it accurately from the porch?”
“Uh…” She winced. “Probably not. And you know I can’t aim a gun for shit at that distance. I’d probably hit Uncle Franco.”
“I can do it,” Lennon said. “Throw it, I mean. My shooting skills also leave something to be desired.”
Maisie shook her head. “Forget it. I’ll do it myself.”
“You can’t do both,” Hadley said.
“Sure I can.” She reached her left hand out for the bottle. Pain seared up her arm as she tried to close her fingers around it. She gasped and pulled her hand back.
“Did you break your hand again?” Hadley asked. “Don’t you still have a metal plate in there from last time?”
“It might just be bruised.” She moved her fingers and winced. “Shit.”
“I can do it,” Lennon repeated. “Seriously. I have a good arm.”
Maisie sighed. It was her only option, unfortunately.
She stepped closer to him. “You can’t wuss out at the last minute, okay? You’re going to throw that and light those assholes on fire, and I don’t want you getting a sudden attack of conscience when we step out there.”
He nodded.
“Because if you do that, all three of them will fire on us, and we’re both dead. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The man carefully handed the bottle to Lennon, along with a lighter.
Maisie moved closer to the door. He followed her, his eyes on the bottle in his hand.
“You light that the second I open this door. I’m going to move to the left immediately, and you’re going to come out, throw it, and hit the deck. Hadley, stay right behind us, just in case we need backup.”
Lennon nodded. Hadley pulled out her gun and took off the safety.
Maisie put her hand on the doorknob. She met Lennon’s gaze. He looked calm, strangely enough. Maybe later she’d ask him if this was his first time throwing a Molotov cocktail. She got the impression that it was not.
“On three,” she said. “One…two…three!”
She pulled the door open and darted onto the porch. The men in the truck both turned. She aimed her gun at the man on the street.
Lennon ran out the door, arm poised to throw. He took two quick steps and let the bottle fly.
It sailed through the air with surprising speed. He had not been kidding about having a good arm.
It crashed into the truck bed. Flames engulfed the men.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lennon hit the deck, as ordered. A bullet sailed past her ear.
She fired her gun. Lopez jumped to his feet.
The man jerked as her bullet hit him in the shoulder, but he didn’t go down. She fired again.
He turned, aiming his gun at Lopez instead of at her.
Shit.
She fired again, but so did he. Lopez collapsed.
She darted off the porch as she squeezed the trigger again. The man took off, weaving so that her bullets sailed just past him. He raced for the truck and threw open the driver’s door.
One of the men in the truck rolled out and onto the ground, desperately trying to extinguish the fire on his pants.
“Hadley, take care of them!” she yelled, pointing at the truck as she ran for Lopez. She heard shots a moment later, and then tires squealing. She glanced over to see the truck flying around the corner and out of sight.
She sprinted to Lopez, who was still on the ground. He’d rolled over onto his back. Blood pooled on the concrete beneath him. His eyes fluttered and then shut. His body went still.
“Oh god,” she said, kneeling down beside him. She fumbled for her phone, and then shakily dialed and pressed it to her ear.
“This is Maisie Rojas. I need you to send someone right now. Dr. Lopez has been shot.”