Chapter 13
Eden
The silence after violence is its own kind of sound.
Diesel's arms are around me. I'm pressed against his chest, my hand over the wound in his side, pressing hard. His blood seeps through my fingers, warm and wrong.
He's still upright, still holding me, running on something that won't last.
Daniels is behind us. I don't look back.
Diesel goes rigid.
"Someone's coming."
I don't hear anything. But he's already moving—pulling away from me, forcing himself to his feet. He makes it halfway and doubles over, hand braced on his knee, blood dripping from his side onto the floor.
"Diesel—" I scramble up, reach for him.
He shakes his head and pushes through it, straightening on a ragged exhale, tendons straining in his neck.
A shadow falls across the doorway.
He shoves me behind him before I can draw breath. One arm barring me back, his broken body between me and whatever's coming. His hands curl into fists. The beast hasn't left his eyes.
Footsteps pound on the stairs now, heavy and fast.
"Stay behind me." His voice is a growl.
"You've been shot twice."
"Stay. Behind. Me."
The footsteps reach the landing. Diesel shifts his weight, ready to charge.
Ash appears in the destroyed doorway.
Diesel doesn't stand down. Not immediately. His body stays coiled, fists raised, until Ash holds up both hands.
"It's us, brother. Just us."
Something loosens in Diesel's spine. He stays on his feet, stays between me and the door, but the killing tension bleeds out of him.
Ash's eyes move from Diesel to me to Daniels' body. He takes it all in—the blood, the broken door, what's left of the man on the floor.
"An orc against a human." Diesel's voice is rough but steady. "You know how this goes, Ash."
"First we keep you breathing." Ash holds his gaze. "We'll handle the rest once you're stable."
"Clear," he calls over his shoulder.
Crow pushes past him first, eyes sweeping the room—Diesel, me, Daniels' body. His face goes hard.
Maya's right behind him, medical bag in hand. She stops. Just for a second—her eyes on what's left of Daniels, on the blood. Then her jaw sets and she's moving toward us.
She reaches for Diesel first.
"Eden." His voice cuts through, sharp, something feral in his eyes. "Check her first."
"You're the one bleeding out—"
"Check. Her. First."
Maya's expression hardens, but she turns to me, hands reaching for my face, my arms, searching for wounds.
"It's not mine." I pull back. "The blood isn't mine. I'm fine. Help him."
Maya holds my gaze for a beat, confirming. Then she's moving toward Diesel.
"Sit down before you fall down."
"I'm fine," Diesel says.
"You're gray and you're swaying." She's already pulling at his shirt. "Sit."
His knee buckles.
Crow catches him before he hits the floor, eases him down against the wall. Diesel fights it, tries to push back up, but his body has started cashing the checks his will has been writing.
"Easy." Crow keeps a hand on his shoulder. "We've got her. Stand down."
Diesel's eyes find mine. Bleeding out against the wall and he's still checking. Making sure I'm here. Making sure I'm safe.
"I'm okay," I tell him. "I'm right here."
His jaw unclenches.
Maya examines the wounds. Her face doesn't change, but her hands move faster.
"Two entry wounds. You shouldn't be conscious right now." She glances at his face. "Adrenaline's a hell of a drug. Enjoy it while it lasts—you're going to crash hard."
"How long do I have?"
"With your biology? An hour, maybe. Probably less." She reaches into her bag, pulls out gauze and pressure bandages. "A human would already be dead. I can slow the bleeding here, but the real work happens at my clinic."
She looks over her shoulder at Ash. "Call Vargan. Tell him to get Knox and get their asses to the clinic. I'm going to need orc blood—as much as Mandy can collect. Human transfusions won't work on him."
Ash is already pulling out his phone. "On it."
Crow stays crouched beside Diesel, one hand still on his shoulder.
Ash tilts his head. Listening. "Sirens. We've got maybe three minutes." His eyes cut to me. "I need to know what happened. The real version, before I hear the official one."
I don't hesitate. "Daniels was the leak. He fed Venetti our location at the safehouse, shot himself to cover it. Carver got too close, so Daniels killed him this morning. He came here to finish me and make it look like suicide. There's a note—he forged my handwriting."
"Where?"
I reach for it from where I'm kneeling. It's in the blood between us. I pull it free from the congealing red.
"I shot him." My voice comes out strange, scraped hollow. "Not Diesel. Me. I pulled the trigger."
I push myself to my feet and hold out the note.
Ash takes it and reads it. By the time he finishes, his knuckles are white around the paper.
"I spent a lot of time with Carver," I say. "So the optics look right for it being true. But not a word of it is. This note tied up all of Daniels' loose ends and got rid of two of us at once. Carver and me."
"Eden." Diesel's voice is strained behind me. "Stop. Breathe."
"No." I turn to face him. "I know how this goes down. An orc killed a cop. That's the headline unless the facts come out before the police arrive."
I look at Ash. Then at the note in his hands.
"I pulled the trigger. I did to him what he tried to do to me. That's the story. That's what happened." I point at the note. "That's the proof that he planned all of it. And my prints are on both guns. Diesel's aren't."
"Cop killer." Ash folds the note, slides it into his jacket. "Dirty cop who murdered one of their own. PR nightmare." He looks at Daniels' body, then back at me. "Self-defense. Case closed."
***
The cops arrive in a flood of sirens and flashing lights.
Blue and red strobes through my windows. Footsteps thunder up the stairs. Voices. Radios. Too many bodies in too small a space.
A detective pushes through the uniforms. His eyes sweep the room, land on me.
"Walk me through this." He points at me. "You shot the deceased?"
"Yes. He was going to kill me. I defended myself."
"With what weapon?"
"His backup piece. Ankle holster."
The detective looks at Daniels' body, at the ruined face. "Who did that to him?"
I've written this scene a dozen times. The detective fishing. The witness who says too much. The moment the case turns.
"I don't know." I keep my voice flat. "It happened fast. I was focused on the gun."
"You didn't see—"
"I saw a man with a gun to my head. I got to his backup piece before he could pull the trigger." I hold his gaze. "That's what I saw."
The detective's eyes flick to Diesel—against the wall, barely upright, Crow keeping him there while Maya works. His knuckles are split, his hands covered in blood.
"And him?"
"He came through the door. Daniels shot him. Twice." I don't look away. "After that, I don't know. I was trying not to die."
The detective's mouth flattens. "Doesn't add up."
My stomach drops.
This. This is what Diesel was afraid of.
Ash reaches into his jacket and pulls out the blood-soaked paper.
"Before you make any decisions, you need to read this."
The detective—Miller, according to his badge—takes it with gloved fingers. He reads the note. His mouth goes slack, then hard.
"What is this?"
"Daniels' insurance policy." Ash steps forward. "A forged suicide note in her handwriting. He was going to force her to pull the trigger, make it look self-inflicted. Frame Carver as a rapist in the process."
An older detective pushes through, gray at the temples with deep grooves bracketing his mouth.
"Carver." He looks at Daniels' body. His lip curls. "Just confirmed it. Shot in his car outside his home. Daniels ambushed him like a fucking coward."
"We've got everything. Phone records, bank transfers, a forged suicide note in her handwriting." Ash holds up the blood-soaked paper. "Nova Reyes has the full case file when you need it."
The older detective looks at the note, at Daniels' body, at me.
Miller shifts. "What's the call?"
"Self-defense." He doesn't hesitate, then looks at Ash. "This all checks out?"
Ash nods. "With witnesses."
Miller cuts in. "To everything but how his face got bashed in."
The older detective scoffs. "Who the fuck cares? Daniels killed a cop. A damn fine one, too." He turns to Miller. "Get her printed, run the GSR, document everything. And call the meat wagon."
Miller's face goes tight, but he nods. "Clear."
I glance at Diesel. His eyes are half-closed now. The gray in his skin has spread, and Maya's pressing fresh gauze to his side—the old one already soaked through.
A uniform bags the weapons. Two guns—my prints on both, Diesel's on neither. It matches what I told them.
Miller looks at Diesel, still slumped against the wall. "What about the bullets in him?"
Maya doesn't look up. "One's lodged. One went through. I'll turn over the round after I extract it."
"Protocol says gunshot victims go to the trauma unit."
"You really want a dead cop killer and an orc in your trauma unit hitting the news on the same day?" Ash cuts in. "She's a licensed physician. Chain of custody will hold."
The older detective holds up a hand. "Get it in writing and move on."
***
They separate us for statements.
I give them the words and watch them write it down. Across the room, Diesel's fading—his answers down to single words, Maya's hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him upright.
He keeps finding my eyes, checking that I'm still here.
Ash steps between Diesel and Miller. "We're done. Release them now, or you're going to have a dead orc on your hands and a lot of questions about why you held a gunshot victim for paperwork."
The older detective waves us off. "Go. We know where to find you."
"And Venetti?" I ask.
"Nova has everything Carver collected. Phone records, bank transfers, names." He pauses. "Enough to uncover anyone connected to Daniels and make sure Venetti never sees the outside again."
It's over.