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Marcus "Vex" Velez was a ghost from the city’s underbelly, a man who had run a massive identity theft ring before she’d helped put him away for a decade. He’d been a model prisoner, a paragon of rehabilitation. And now, three months into his parole, his GPS ankle monitor had gone dark for six hours.

But Sheena Ryder had spent twenty years learning the difference between a lie and a last chance. She unclipped her taser. She tossed it onto the grimy floor. The serpent man smiled.

The boiler room exploded into a chaos of blue light, shouts, and the screech of metal. Sheena grabbed a fire extinguisher, swung it like a club, and didn't stop swinging until the only people left standing were her and the man she was supposed to lock away.

Marcus looked up. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut. But his gaze was clear, and it pinned her with a strange, desperate urgency. "Sheena, listen to me. The blackout wasn't a violation. It was a beacon. They needed you to come alone."

She looked at him. Really looked. Past the bruises, past the file she'd memorized. He gave her the tiniest shake of his head. Don't.