22. The Reckoning
THE RECKONING
HOLLOWAY
Sennett’s early career was distinguished by intense devotion to duty. It is worth noting, then, that when he finally broke, he did not do so for a cause or a principle. He did it for a person.
The mist was something he still hadn’t gotten used to. Back home, rain fell like it meant it, all in one direction. The sky here couldn’t commit; moisture just hung in the air. It turned the freight yard to mud and muffled sound in a way he didn’t totally hate, though—good cover for a drop.
Holloway stood with his back to a crate, eyes burning after eighteen straight hours on duty. Thirty paces off, Jack and Rider were passing a flask, shoulders loose, laughing at something.
Good men. A little too green, a little too eager to prove they weren’t, but they’d make fine officers. That was his job, to shape them right. He’d made sure to position them far enough out that they couldn’t hear tonight’s exchange.
As soon as the warrant hit his desk that morning, he knew it was bullshit.
It had to be. He knew Talent better than anybody.
She folded herself into shapes that other people wanted her to take, and it made her vulnerable.
The rebels must have lied to her or tricked her somehow.
Just one more example of why she needed someone to make decisions for her.
He promised Cordon he’d protect the Salaren girls, and it was his honor to do it.
All day today he’d manufactured red tape and rerouted patrols to buy her time. She’d never know how much he’d done for her. He wouldn’t usually run an informant drop himself, but he’d taken that on tonight, too, on the off chance it’d help.
Boots squelched in the mud. Holloway’s hand dropped to his sidearm. He turned—
And nearly laughed. Held it to a cough.
“You’re the informant?”
Riven Valros stopped ten paces away. The hulking sellsword who shadowed Talent to work every day. The man had an edge to him that Holloway had clocked from that first night at the Flux & Fiddle. Talent clearly hadn’t.
“Captain Sennett.” Riven’s voice was flat. “Talia’s in danger.”
Holloway scrubbed a hand over his face. Obviously.
“She’s being framed. Someone submitted evidence—”
“It was you.” Of course it was this guy. It had to be someone like him. “You made these reports.”
Riven’s jaw tightened. “I am protecting her.”
Holloway did laugh then. “Hell of a job, asshole.”
The sellsword didn’t flinch, but he seemed ragged around the edges. His beard hadn’t been trimmed, and he had a wild look in his eyes. Maybe he did care about Talent. Not that it mattered.
“Captain, everything good?” Jack called.
“Just settling up,” Holloway hollered back, waving him off. “Hang tight.”
“There’s a man called Lore Tavis,” Riven kept on. “He’s a rebellion leader. He’s the one framing her.”
Riven shoved a packet toward him. The drop. Had to be. Holloway shoved it back.
“I know who Lore Tavis is. The man’s untouchable. Connected at the highest levels of Pentarchy command. And Talent—” Something tightened in his throat. “She’s an easy target now, without her family’s protection.”
Riven narrowed his eyes. “She has a warrant for her arrest. You’re defending her. Why?”
Holloway wasn’t answering that.
“You limit her choices then show up like a hero,” Riven said in that flat, unemotional tone. “Is that it? Think she’ll change her mind and wed you after all?”
The fuck? Heat hit the back of Holloway’s neck. His hand twitched at his sidearm.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Holloway said, fighting to keep his voice level. “You’re going to disappear. Tonight. Out of Gateway, out of her life.”
Riven’s eyes flicked to Holloway’s weapon. His own hands stayed loose at his sides. Soldier recognized soldier. Part of him wanted the fight. The excuse. The clarity of pure violence.
Then a gunshot cracked, somewhere close. And another.
Riven’s head snapped to the sound. Holloway’s did too. His boys stood ready, weapons drawn.
“With me. Now.” Then, to Riven, “You’re done here. Get out of my city.”
He ran toward the gunshots. Behind him, Riven’s boots hit mud going the other direction. Holloway’s mind was already triangulating a location, likely scenarios, next moves. He could deal with Riven later.
His boots skidded as he rounded the corner.
Oh, gods. Tally.
She was down in the dirt, curled up like a child. Face streaked with flux dust and blood, a man’s coat over her shoulders. Someone crouched beside her, talking low and quiet.
There was a body sprawled nearby, face down. Male. Back split open. Gunpowder hung in the air. Blood looked fresh, still wet. Single shooter, probably.
Talent whimpered softly. She’s alive, thank the Navigator.
“Hold there!” He raised his lantern, pistol ready in his other hand.
The other person’s head snapped up.
“Dawn.” He lowered the pistol without taking his eyes off her.
“Small world, Captain.” Her voice was flat and a little slurred. Was she drunk?
Jack and Rider spread behind him, hands on their sidearms.
His eyes went back to Talent. She wasn’t moving. Gods, if she was really hurt he’d never forgive himself.
“What happened? Is she okay?”
“She is now.” Dawn shifted, keeping her body between Talent and his men. “Flint and Birdy Jones grabbed her for the bounty.”
The Jones brothers. Small-time mercenaries. Violent, dangerous men. Their brother had been sentenced and executed for the murder of Captain Valence, if he recalled correctly.
Damn it all. He’d spent eighteen hours running interference from the inside, trying to keep Talent safe. He’d assumed she was in her room. He’d told himself that was enough. It wasn’t at all.
Rider stepped in. “Sir, is that the woman we have a warrant for?”
Holloway waved him off. His focus stayed on Dawn. On Talent. He didn’t want to take them in, but he was so tired. He couldn’t think right.
Dawn nodded. “If I told you Birdy was a murderer,” she said, testing the words, “that he’s the one who killed Captain Valence, not his brother. What would you say to that?”
“I’d say it seems convenient,” Holloway said. His eyes held hers. I know you’re lying.
Her grin didn’t waver. I know you know.
“He bragged about it just now. Said he kept the captain’s ring.”
Holloway crouched in the mud and checked the man’s pockets. Pulled out a sapphire ring. Way too neat. He flipped the ring over in his palm. Valence had been a good man. This wouldn’t do him justice. But Valence was already dead. Talent was alive, and she was hurting. He stood.
“Good enough for me.”
Relief flickered across Dawn’s face before she masked it.
For a heartbeat, it almost worked. He’d need to go back and file this report. They could all walk away.
Then Rider stepped forward, eager bastard. Still believed that justice and following orders were the same thing. “Sir, there’s still the warrant. That’s the Salaren heir, I’m sure of it.”
“Stand down,” Holloway said, voice low. “The captain’s murder takes priority. We’ll get the girl tomorrow, on schedule.”
“With respect, sir, the warrant came direct from Vaelis.” Rider’s hand moved to his belt, reaching for restraints. “We have to—”
“I said stand down.” Holloway stepped between Rider and Talent. “That is an order.”
Rider hesitated. But he always was too godsdamned stubborn. He stepped around Holloway and knelt, wrapping a hand around Talent’s arm.
Holloway stepped forward the same instant Dawn’s shot cracked the air.
Only took the one shot.
Rider folded without a sound. His fingers slipped off Talent’s arm, his body hit the dirt, and the world stopped. Gun smoke hung in the air. Dawn’s arm still extended, revolver steady, expression blank. Jack stood frozen, hand halfway to his sidearm.
Talent was awake now, eyes wide with horror, trembling against the wall. Flecks of Rider’s blood spattered across her cheek.
Everything narrowed. Five years of service, of following orders. A lifetime of doing the right things, the right ways. It all led him here, somehow.
And Rider—that damn kid—was dead in the mud because Holloway hadn’t been fast enough. He’d lost control again, and look what happened.
“What’s your move, Captain?” Dawn asked, still armed.
“Shit,” he muttered.
He turned to Jack, who still stood frozen, pale in the lamplight. He looked like he might be sick.
“You didn’t see this. You’ll go back to the garrison and report that Birdy Jones was found dead. The others ran before we could apprehend them.”
No mercy in asking Jack to lie, but he couldn’t lose another officer tonight, and he wasn’t turning Talent in.
Jack’s eyes went wide. “Sir, I can’t—”
“You can.” Holloway stepped closer, lowering his voice. “That’s an order. File the report. You understand?”
A long pause. Jack looked at Talent, still trembling, blood on her face. At Dawn, gun ready. At Rider’s body.
“Yes, sir,” he whispered finally.
“Good man.”
Jack backed away, shaking. Turned. Vanished down the side street at a half run.
And just like that, it was done. Holloway’s fate was set.
He turned back to Dawn and Talent. His eyes were burning. He’d crossed a line he couldn’t uncross. Nothing in his training had prepared him for this.
Talent was in bad shape, her dress torn. Covered in bruises, but the blood didn’t look like it was hers. The only person who’d stepped in to protect her, who’d saved her twice, was Dawn.
Violently. Viciously. Without question. But Dawn had kept her safe. He hadn’t. Not when it mattered.
He should have stopped this, should have come to her hours ago. But he’d followed protocol.
“They’ll hang you both if they find you here,” he said quietly.
He’d have to arrest them. Or—
“So you’re coming with us,” Dawn said.
Not an invitation. A statement.
He laughed once. The whole life he’d built would end here, in an alley at the edge of the world. His career as an enforcer. His inheritance. Any chance to honor Cordon’s memory. That was all over now if he walked away. If he didn’t—he couldn’t protect her.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Looks that way.”
The mist was thickening to something closer to rain, sporadic drops hitting thick and cold. Holloway scanned the empty streets. They needed to find cover. Make a plan.
“Starfall,” Talent said. Her voice was small. “Shelter…with Lore.”
That name. Lore Tavis. The name Riven had given an hour ago. Apparently, he and Talent were on a first-name basis. Holloway filed that away for later.
“Figures,” Dawn said, spitting into the dirt. “That bastard always gets what he wants.”
Dawn knew him too. Fantastic. But what choice did they have? Holloway holstered his pistol. “Lead the way.”
They walked in silence through back alleys. Fugitives now, all three of them. He’d been on his feet all day, but he kept going for Talent.
Somewhere behind them, Jack would be filing his report. Rider’s body cooling in the mud. Lies stacked on lies.
Dawn walked up ahead, checking corners, choosing their path—that one knew what she was doing. Talent fell back next to him. When she leaned on his shoulder, he held her up.
“You came for me,” Talent whispered. “You stayed.”
At least he’d gotten that part right. That was something. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he followed Talent into the unknown.