TRYSHA DAYHOLT

Trysha still couldn't believe she nearly killed the Raven Ruler on accident.

She was in the Willis Tower when the Crowns infiltrated their base. The Ravens had called her in, baiting her with information they claimed she needed. They said they would deliver her someone she wanted very dearly. They even told her that they knew the Crowns were coming, that this would be her chance to finally kill them all.

Her task was simple—defend the captured Eveleen Fluor. She wasn't sure why they would order her to help keep Eveleen Fluor in the base. It took every ounce of willpower in her body to not kill the woman herself. Thankfully, she didn't have to stay with her for long.

Shortly after the alarms rang—signifying that the Crowns had infiltrated the base—a woman told her that she had been ordered to lead a different group of Ravens through the base to hunt the Crowns. In her thirst for revenge, she hadn't stopped to question the woman, to realize that she had never seen her before in her life. The woman turned out to be a high-ranking member of a group called the Rebels. They said her name was Nisa. Said that she had distracted Trysha since she was the biggest risk, killed the other two guards, and stole Eveleen Fluor back from right under their noses.

Nisa had used the Crowns as the perfect distraction. Perhaps they had underestimated the Rebels. They could be a much bigger threat to everyone, if not for their numbers then simply because of their schemes. The Ravens would need to keep a closer eye on them.

Personally, Nisa hadn't cared who won as long as the Crowns were destroyed. She only worked with the Ravens because they were the best contenders, the strongest possible allies. She didn't give two shits about the Raven Ruler or the cultish culture of the Ravens. Of course, she wanted to know who the Raven Ruler was, to know who she was dealing with. Maybe she was even curious about the person who had managed to amass such a large following and so many resources right under the Crowns' noses. But she never thought the Raven Ruler was anyone special. The only difference between the Ruler and other washed-up cult leaders was that this one had a bit of extra luck.

And then Trysha had actually met the Raven Ruler.

After Nisa told her to go downstairs, she found a group of about twenty Ravens led by what seemed to be a group leader. Trysha told him that she was taking over and that he should go upstairs to report to a higher-up. And when he argued one flick of her mace had him backing away to the stairs in silence.

Trysha started to prowl the floor, the group of Ravens on her heels. She perked her ears at every sound, hoping to find one of the Crowns. They would've already been worn down by everything that they faced downstairs and they would be thrown off guard when they saw her. Not to mention she was an Alpha and she had watched as the Crowns trained and perfected their art during their early years at Evandor. She could take them on. Trysha might not survive the ordeal, but she was certain she could take the Crowns down with her. And that was enough.

And then she had heard it. Footsteps. Just one person. Someone was coming.

Trysha grinned in anticipation. Her fingers itched to feel blood soaking her fingers.

She signalled for her group to stop just as the lone voyager turned the corner. Trysha's grin fell. It wasn't one of the Crowns. No. It was a girl with flaming red hair. A Streeter thief she had heard of—Phoenix Night—who rumors said was seen with Crowns. A Crown sympathizer.

Phoenix wasn't a Crown. But Trysha would make do.

Trysha let her mace slide down into her arm, the long metal chain uncoiling from her arm. Phoenix's eyes followed the movement with a strange gleam of curiosity. Of amusement. Trysha flicked her wrist and needle-like spikes snapped out all along the chain. She raised her hand, ready to aim for the thief's head.

Phoenix only grinned in response. "This should be fun."

Trysha launched the mace.

Phoenix sidestepped and pointed her gun straight up for my head. Trysha ducked and pressed herself to the ground. just as Phoenix fired, the gun pelting the Ravens behind her instead. Some of the Ravens surged past Trysha, attempting to shoot back, but they didn't get very far. Phoenix whirled through them, a flurry of knives and fists. She disarmed the Ravens, knocked them out, shot them with their own guns, stabbed them, let them shoot each other, let them run into each other.

Phoenix fought with force, like a Streeter, and yet her body moved with a pristine, measured grace. One that Trysha had only ever seen Assassins carry. And not just any Assassin. No. It was a grace only attained by the best of the best, the top hundred at the most.

As Phoenix let the last Raven fall to the ground, Trysha stood, sweeping her feet back into a fighting stance. She had watched Phoenix's fighting for long enough and gained at least a hint as to what her typical moves and tendencies were.

Phoenix was holding only a knife when she fixed Trysha with a stare. It wasn't a challenge or fear. No. Phoenix was assessing her.

"Assassin," Phoenix had snarled.

"Thief," Trysha responded.

She gave a wicked smile."What are you waiting for?"

Her grin seemed to say "Show me what you got".

Trysha showed her alright.

Trysha swung her mace again and Phoenix, who was trapped between two bodies, had no choice but to duck. But Trysha knew this would happen, had anticipated. She curved the swing and managed to nick Phoenix's arm, taking off a good portion of skin. Blood spewed down Phoenix's long sleeve. Phoenix cursed as she ran forward, trying to close the distance.

Of course, Phoenix would run straight toward Trysha. Mace's were useless in super close range. Any experienced fighter knew this. But Trysha was prepared for that too.

As Phoenix lunged for Trysha with the knife, Trysha stepped to the side and slammed her bent knuckles right into Phoenix's attacking wrist, forcing Phoenix to loosen her grip. Trysha grabbed the wrist and lifted her leg, ready to kick, but she was too slow. Phoenix punched Trysha right in the face, making her head snap back.

Still, Trysha didn't stumble. She was used to far worse.

Instead, Trysha leaned back, pretending to be falling from the impact, but at the last moment, she lifted her foot again, kicking Phoenix in the chest. As Phoenix doubled over, Trysha dropped her mace and slammed her elbow into Phoenix's temple. Phoenix listed to the side, crashing into the wall.

Before Phoenix could react, Trysha dropped to the ground, her knee digging into Phoenix's stomach with the force of her full body weight. She managed to twist Phoenix's hand, making her release her already loose grip on the knife, and brought the knife to Phoenix's throat.

Trysha smiled. The thief might've been a skilled fighter, but she let Phoenix wear herself out and underestimate her. And now Phoenix had been cornered in less than twenty seconds. Trysha would torture her for information on the Crowns and then kill her. Slowly.

"Impressive," Phoenix breathed, her neck pressing a little closer to Trysha's knife at the movement. "Very quick. Analytical. I knew you were a good choice."

Trysha tilted her head, quizzical. "To fight? Because that doesn't seem very smart."

"No. To recruit."

Trysha stilled, all previous plans of torture fleeing. She pushed the knife closer to Phoenix's throat. Phoenix only smiled wider in response.

"What the hell does that mean?" Trysha demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" Phoenix drawled.

The Raven Ruler. Phoenix Night was implying that she was the Raven Ruler.

That was impossible. The thief must've just been stalling for time.

"Don't bullshit me," Trysha hissed. "What's your connection to the Crowns?"

"I'm trying to kill them, obviously. And take over. That is the point of this entire building."

"You're not the Raven Ruler," Trysha laughed.

"How do you know?"

"You just killed your own men."

Phoenix shrugged. "They were useless. Could barely put up a fight against an already tired opponent. Dead weight."

It did sound like something the Raven Ruler would do, but the chances of this being real were still so slim. Trysha shook her head.

"Stop bluffing."

"Why do you think I'm bluffing?"

"There's only one Raven Ruler. There's probably dozens, if not hundreds, who would try to pretend to be the Raven Ruler if it means they can get some benefits. Especially the benefit of keeping their heads on their shoulders."

Phoenix laughed. "I guess I should be happy I didn't recruite someone gullible."

"You can drop the act. I'm going to gut you either way."

The smile seemed to disappear from Phoenix's face in seconds, but her eyes were still gleaming with danger.

"If I was acting, would I know that you first reached out to the Ravens on April 18th, 192 PD at the Lakeside Water Bar along the lakefront and the Chicago River? Would I know that you talked to the bartender and manager there, a man who had served on the Ravens almost since the day we were formed? Would I know that my Lieutenant contacted you again on April 21st and you helped your brother fall under our wing a week later?"

Trysha could've sworn her heart stopped beating. There was no way the Crowns could've found out this information. Sure, they had tortured Trysha's parents, but they didn't know anything about her and Chance joining the Ravens. And even if the Crowns had managed to torture information out of Chance before they killed him on that fateful night, Chance didn't know exactly when or how she joined the Ravens. She kept that information to herself. And any information about her involvement would've been limited to only upper-level Ravens. Like the Raven Ruler.

Trysha backed up slowly, but she still held her knife in Phoenix's direction.

"Well, you're certainly a Raven. But it's not enough to prove that you're the Raven Ruler."

"No. I guess that'll take some time. And information."

"What information?"

Phoenix only shrugged, a smile spreading across her lips again as she climbed to her feet. "Something I'm sure you'll love to know very much. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. I need you to complete a task for me."

"A task?"

"Yes. And it'll need to be completed sometime soon, most likely over the course of the next week, though we don't know when exactly. You need to be able to carry it out at a moment's notice."

"What task?"

"Kill the Crowns," she said. "The real Crowns. The current ones."

"What?" The words hung heavy in the air. "I can't kill the Crowns."

"Sure you can. That's why we recruited you. And you'll have all of our resources at your disposal. Speaking of which," she added casually, "how many men will you need?"

Trysha knelt on the soft ground, knowing that eighty other men were hidden in the tall grass and trees spread out all around the field, waiting. She had positioned them herself, drew up the plans herself. If anything went wrong, it would be on her. If everything went right, it would also be on her.

Trevor, who was promoted thanks to his role in breaking Eveleen Fluor out of prison, kneeled beside her, dead silent for once. She found comfort in the fact that she had worked by his side before during the prison break, but she also knew she was likely sending him to his death. It didn't bother her too much, though. Not nearly as much as it should have. She barely knew anything about him beyond his charming and laid-back personality.

Trysha wished she had Kane Wilder at her side, the Raven Lieutenant himself. She met Kane only twice over the past few days and she didn't trust him at all. He was far too cunning and ruthless and the few details she learned about his upbringing made her wonder just what he had done in order to survive. Not to mention, she wasn't a fan of his arrogant yet silky-smooth attitude. But she knew he would have been worth at least a dozen men, if not for his fighting skill then for his quick scheming.

But Kane wasn't here. He was off, fulfilling his own part of some secret plan that he and Phoenix concocted. Or maybe he just decided to avoid the certain death and let her commit suicide all by herself. After all, he only ever placed himself on the winning side. The thought didn't ease Trysha's nerves.

The rumbling of an engine running in the distance shook her out of her thoughts. Was it them?

She signaled to Trevor to keep a close eye and be ready. He relayed the message by pressing a button on a small device he held in his hands. Immediately, in the earpiece she was wearing, she heard the words "Caution" being uttered by a robotic female voice. She knew all the members on the field would hear it in their own earpieces.

She thought back to the conversation she had with Phoenix Night in the Willis Tower.

"Why would you want me to kill the Crowns?" Trysha asked.

"Because they're a threat. And because that's the whole purpose of our organization."

"But if I kill the Crowns," Trysha said slowly, "I would be the one to take their place. Not you."

"Not if they make an official declaration of war against us."

"They probably won't."

"Oh, but they will."

"How do you know?"

Phoenix grinned, baring her teeth. "Because I know them."

The light rumbling got closer and closer. She lifted her head above the grass, just enough to peer at the distant road that ran across the top of the hill. There was no clear indication of whether it was the Crowns or not. They all seemed to be regular cars—the kind that a wealthy Streeter could buy—and there were no defining symbols or insignias. Of course, that's what they expected.

"They are always exceptionally guarded, as you know," Phoenix continued. "And of course, they're even more on edge thanks to us. But there is a slim opening available."

"When? Where? How? They've stayed in Cressida ever since the Ravens attacked the Queens, and they've increased Golden Palace security because of the break-in. What opening could there possibly be?"

"When they leave Cressida."

"Why the hell would they leave Cressida?"

"They have a prisoner. A former Raven. One that was quite skilled, in fact. They've gone to extra lengths to keep him hidden away, off the records. And off Cressida."

"Where?"

Trysha squinted at the house at the top of the hill. It belonged to a member of the Upper Court—the Balkers. Quinten Balker was a successor of the Balker family, a loyal and powerful Unassailable line. Amelia Balker was supposedly powerful and intelligent in her prime days, though life, grief, and old age wasn't kind to her mental state. Chance killed her son last year and she still hadn't fully recovered. He was Chance's second victim, but the first one that truly made any impact thanks to the message he left behind written in Balker's blood.

The house was given one of those sleek modern styles with its stacked cement blocks and wide floor-to-ceiling windows that reminded Trysha so much of the Alpha Suite at Evandor. As far as she could tell, Quinten had been in his study for the past two hours while Amelia paced wildly from the kitchen to their bedroom, her movements constantly swinging back and forth between frantic and mellow. Neither of them seemed to bother looking out the windows, which made it fairly easy for all of the Ravens to move into position.

Now, both Quinten and Amelia seemed to be heading toward the living room in preparation for the Crowns' arrival. Trysha supposed that confirmed who the cars belonged to. She nodded to Trevor again, who pushed another button. The words "Target Approaching" echoed through her ear as she pulled out a pair of binoculars, focusing on the Balkers. Amelia was standing still for once, seemingly calm. Quinten was loading a gun and hiding it in his waistband. Neither of them said a word.

The Balkers' guards were nowhere to be seen, though Trysha knew there were two wandering around the house. They should've employed more guards, given the prisoner they held and the regular visits they received from the Crowns, but it seemed they were trying to remain inconspicuous. Trysha turned towards the approaching cars as they kicked up bits of gravel. She couldn't see much from the distance, but from the outlined shadows and faint silhouettes within the cars, there couldn't have been more than fifteen people accompanying the Crowns. They shouldn't be too hard to eliminate, given the Ravens' numbers. The biggest threat still remained to be the Crowns themselves.

The Crown Kingston would most likely have some tricks or inventions up his sleeve, much like his sons. And the Crown Fortier, Edsel, was a master at the art of killing. Of course, both were far past their prime age and most likely out of practice thanks to their busy and stressful schedules. Still, she knew better than to underestimate them.

The cars slowed and started to glide into the circular driveway. She tucked away her binoculars and felt around her fighting gear, double-checking her weapons. She had three guns, seven knives, and, of course, her mace. She was ready.

The Balkers stepped out onto the driveway as the cars came to a halt. Trysha nodded to Trevor, and he pressed another button. She didn't hear anything this time, but she knew the signal would be given to the sniper hidden in one of the trees.

Of course, the sniper wasn't really a sniper today. He was a bomber. The gun he carried was a rare breed, one that could shoot small devices, much like grenades. The devices exploded on impact, giving its target a fiery death. He would shoot the cars and kill the Crowns with one pull of the trigger. At least, that's what would've happened if she had been even a bit more lucky.

Trysha held her breath, waiting. But the gun never fired. As the guards started to step out of the vehicles, Trysha craned her neck towards the tree behind her. She could see the sniper vaguely from this angle. He was moving, seeming to be trying to work his gun. So he was alive. The Crowns hadn't prepared for their attack. At least that much was good news.

Which meant the gun was malfunctioning again. It was a clunky thing that often clamped up thanks to its own safety measures. It probably got stuck. She figured this would happen. At last, the sniper stilled, re-aiming. She turned her attention back to the cars.

The Crowns stepped out of the middle car, one after the other. The whole field seemed to hold its breath. They were dressed in traditional Assassin clothes, though their crowns and rings were missing. They looked just like the rest of us. Human.

They stepped towards the Balkers as the couple bent down in greeting. Now was the time to strike. If the Crowns kept moving they would be too far away from the cars. Trysha held her breath.

At last, a low whistling noise filled the air. Edsel stilled as he perked up at the noise. The Crown Kingston, however, quickened his pace, dragging Edsel along as if he knew what the sound meant.

And then the first car exploded. Then the second. Then the third.

Fire shot up into the sky as a searing hot wave washed over Trysha, blazing her cheeks. The sound was almost deafening as the metal creaked and groaned. Pieces of the cars flew in every direction. Thick fumes rose into the sky.

Trysha blinked through the haze, clearing her vision, searching the corpses before her.

Most of the guards were dead. Only three remained moving. But the Crowns...

The Crowns were flung through the air by the impact and were on the ground. But they were moving. Breathing. They were clambering to their feet just as the Balkers did the same.

Shit.

All four of them seemed to turn towards the house. The house would go into lockdown the moment the Crowns and Balkers stepped through the door. It would be impossible to penetrate once it shut them out. The Crowns would be safe and would likely call for reinforcements to slaughter the Ravens right there and then.

If Crowns got inside the house first, the Crowns would survive and they would all die. That wasn't an option.

But Trysha was prepared for this, knew this would happen if things went wrong. That's what the eighty waiting Ravens were for.

Trysha stood to full height, ignoring the shouts of the remaining three guards, and simply raised her hand, making sure her men saw her. And then she closed her fist in a simple command.

Attack.

The Ravens obliged.

Gunshots filled the air as snipers and gunmen shot towards the Crowns, blocking their path to the house with a wall of deadly bullets. The Crowns slowed, switching directions, the Balkers on their tail. They ducked, lowering themselves to the ground as much as they could without having to stop moving entirely. Edsel was shouting at the few remaining guards while Evander's head whipped around, looking for cover.

The guards, who had taken cover behind a wall of the house, came out, trying to shoot back. But three men were no match for eighty.

And then the rest of the Ravens, the ones who weren't shooting, surged forward, charging towards the house. They ran past Trysha as she stood, weapons ready, watching the scene unfold, Trevor at her side, fidgeting with his own gun. The gunmen kept firing, accidentally hitting a few of their own men, but they were collateral damage. They kept firing, making sure the Crowns couldn't reach the door.

Edsel, who saw the rushing men, grabbed a machine gun from the body of a dead guard and raised it at the oncoming army. He opened fire and, even with dozens of men actively shooting at him, even with his vision marred by the smoky haze, his aim was precise. With every shot he hit a Raven in the head or the heart, killing them with deadly accuracy. The rushing Ravens started to fall.

Even from the distance Trysha could see the deadly calm in Edsel's eyes, the way a switch seemed to flip in his mind. She'd seen him frustrated, agitated, and temperamental during her tenure on the Alpha Team. She'd seen him lose control of his emotions while in the Throne Room and during Court Meetings. But, now she realized he had only been out of his depth because a Throne Room wasn't his home. The battlefield was. And the Edsel she'd seen, they'd all seen, all this time was merely a mockery of his true self.

Now she was seeing the real Edsel. The descendant of warmongers and killers. A warrior bred for the battlefield. A true Fortier.

She could almost sense the excitement roiling off him, could feel the way he came to life as he tasted the blood and gunpowder in the air. She shivered.

Trysha was starting to wonder if she needed more men.

She ducked back down to her knees at the thought, Trevor mirroring her.

Evander managed to pull Edsel behind a pile of debris from the exploded cars. Had it been a normal cheap car, that bit of metal wouldn't have been able to provide protection from the onslaught of bullets. The bullets would've gone right through. But this was an expensive car, one which was most likely altered by the Crowns to be bullet proof. The twisted car door held firm. And Edsel was still picking off Trysha's men like they were flies.

At the edge of the hill the bodies were starting to pile up, the fallen Ravens creating a mound. The blood of her men spilled down the hill drenching her shoes. Still, the bullets kept coming. Two of the three Crown guards were already dead. Even the Balkers, though Quinten was still moving, were lying on the ground, bleeding. And still her men were dying in troves.

This was meant to be an assassination of the Crowns. Instead, it was becoming a massacre of Ravens. All because of one man.

"He has to stop eventually, right?" Trevor shouted, his voice hopeful but quivering. "The gun has to run out."

But even as he said it, they both knew it was a foolish hope. That was a state of the art machine gun. It had nearly two hundred rounds. Considering Edsel's accuracy, they would all be long dead by then.

If Edsel kept that gun, none of them would make it. The only way any of them would survive is to make him drop the gun.

Right now, there was only one way to do that.

Trysha didn't bother asking as she grabbed a flare off of Trevor's belt. She turned back to the tree where the sniper with the grenade gun remained hidden. Trevor followed her gaze and his eyes widened, realizing what order she was about to give.

The gun couldn't handle carrying too many explosives without becoming a serious safety hazard. So the sniper walked in with five bombs. He blew up three cars, which meant he still had two bombs left in his gun.

"You can't!" Trevor shouted over the shouting and bullets. "You said it yourself! We need at least two bombs ready in case the house goes into lockdown."

Of course, that was just a guess. None of them knew just what that house could handle.

"If we don't take them down now, we won't even get that far!" Trysha shouted back. "Order the men to stand down and hide. I don't need anymore collateral damage."

Trevor gritted his teeth, but obeyed, pressing away at the device. Trysha lit the flare and waved it through the air, just for a brief moment, before grinding the flare back into the ground, putting it out. It was a very quick signal, and there was no immediate response, but she knew the sniper got that message. That he would aim his next bomb for the Crowns.

In her ear she heard the words, "Stand down. Stay hidden."

The Ravens obliged, skidding to a halt and running back, slinking back down the hill and into the cover of the tall grass. As they ran back, Trysha made a mental note of how many men still remained, how many gunmen were still hidden around the field. There weren't many. There must've been twenty to thirty men left, forty if she was feeling hopeful.

In just a minute Edsel had managed to kill over forty men with just one gun. Trysha didn't want to imagine what he was like in his prime.

Edsel's eyes narrowed, watching the retreating figures, and his smile spread into grim satisfaction. Trysha glanced over her shoulder again, at the tree. The sniper would be loading the explosives in now. Best case scenario, it wouldn't take him long to fire. But worst case scenario, he would need at least sixty seconds. A full minute. The last remaining guard was dead now too, but that was still too much time. It was more than enough for Edsel to kill them all.

Edsel looked at the bullets which were still flying in, the gunmen still trying to shoot the Crowns from where they were hidden around the field. The bullets pelted off the car debris, completely harmless. Edsel raised his gun again, pointing it towards the grass where the bullets were coming from.

"Call off the gunmen," Trysha ordered Trevor. Trevor obeyed, tapping away frantically. Suddenly, the field fell quiet. The only sound remaining was the burning cars from the first explosions, the fire scorching through the metal, the frames screeching as they twisted around themselves. Still, after the chaos that ensued only seconds earlier, it felt as though the muffled hush of the field was pindrop silence. She held her breath, scared it would give away her position, and she could sense Trevor doing the same.

Fifty five seconds left.

Suddenly, a laugh cut through the air. Edsel's laugh.

It was rough, scratched by the smoke in the air, but it was sharp, like bricks scraping against her ears. He sounded downright maniacle.

She looked over her shoulder again, praying to the Streeter gods for the first time in her life.

Come on.

Back on the driveway, Edsel rose to his feet, coming into view above the cover of the debris, gun still in hand. What the hell was he doing?

Another laugh escaped his throat. After a moment, he shook his head in amusement.

"I have to admit, I was worried I would die as an old man, peacfully passing away in the Palace on a plush deathbed." His voice echoed across the field. "The thought was driving me mad."

He was walking now, rounding the piece of debris. Trysha expected Evander to scold him, to shout at him to get back down. But he didn't.

Trysha's mind was whirling as she glanced back at the pile of debris. She couldn't see Evander clearly, but she could see the edges of his shoulders, the top of his head. She could tell he was looking at the field, staring at his right. Trysha followed his gaze. He was looking in the direction of the tree with the sniper.

No, no, no.

Evander must've seen her flare, must've caught the signal even though it was only a moment long. He couldn't have known exactly what it meant, but he was on the brink of figuring it out, piecing it together. And the grenade gun was difficult to aim. It was never quite on point and it always took the sniper a while to adjust according to the gun.

Forty seconds.

This wasn't going to be good.

Edsel shook his head again.

"Though, I have to admit," he continued. "I'm a bit disappointed."

He was out in the open now and Trysha could imagine her men getting ready, aiming for him through the grass. But she knew they would only have one chance. Because, if they missed, Edsel would shoot back. And he wouldn't miss.

Edsel approached the pile of bodies, kicking one's arm. It shook for a moment and fell limp. He laughed again, though this time it settled into more of a scoff.

"These are the people who attacked me? These flimsy, dead pups?"

There was a click to Trysha's right. A gun cocking. Someone was about to shoot.

A gunshot echoed through the field. Trysha looked back at Edsel, hopeful. But he was still standing, still breathing, still laughing at the dead bodies. And worst of all, his eyes were still scanning the bodies with amusement, but his hand was raised, his gun pointed to Trysha's right.

He had heard the click too. And he shot before her man could, hitting his target without even so much as a glance.

Twenty five seconds.

"Another dead pup!" Edsel announced.

Behind the debris, there was movement. Evander was picking up a rifle.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Edsel held his arms out, turning in a circle, his eyes scanning the field like a lion challenging its prey.

"You want to kill me?" he shouted.

There was a rustle in the grass. Edsel shot again, quick as lightning. She could hear the bullet when it connected with skin and bone. There was a thump as a body fell to the ground.

Trevor sucked in a barely imperceptible breath and Trysha willed her entire body to be still and silent. Even the pounding of her heart in her ears felt too loud.

"I can promise you, none of you can," he said.

Fifteen seconds.

Evander was scanning the trees through his scope. She realized he was trying to find his target hidden in the thick branches and leaves. He wasn't even sure if there really was a target there in the first place. But the moment he realized, the moment he found the sniper, he would shoot. And if he hit the sniper before he could launch the bomb...

The Crowns would live. And Edsel would pick them off, one by one.

Trysha held her breath. It was all a matter of who shot first. Her sniper or Evander.

Her entire life was depending on a finger against a trigger. She supposed it would be a fitting end for an assassin.

Ten seconds.

"I am Edsel Fortier!" Edsel shouted. His every word chilled her bones. "Killer of a thousand men! Ruler of Concorde!"

He shot at the grass again, killing another Raven.

"The only man alive capable of killing me," he seethed, "is myself."

Five seconds.

Evander, who's rifle had been running in slow circles around the tree, stilled. His eyes narrowed, focusing on one spot. He found the sniper.

No.

Trysha's hand slipped. The grass snapped under her fingers.

Edsel whirled in her direction. His gun was already raised.

I'm going to die.

"Edsel, get down!" Evander shouted.

Edsel seemed to pause just as he was about to pull the trigger. Trysha held her breath.

A gunshot splintered through the air as Evander finally pulled the trigger. A body fell through the tree branches.

No!

But then, just as the body collapsed against the tree, a low whistling sound filled the air. Trysha watched as a black device flew through the air, whisping past her, a blur as it sped towards the Balkers' driveway. It didn't hit either of the Crowns, but instead managed to land on the debris. Evander scrambled away. Everything fell silent.

And then the debris exploded.

Fire rose, a hot gust of wind shooting across the field and through the grass, searing Trysha's skin. A faint ringing filled her ears as plumes of smoke and dust lifted into the air once more. Screams cut through the ringing and she watched as a few of her own men stood, flailing as fire consumed them. They were too close to the blast radius.

She blinked against the sting of smoke, scanning the driveway. Trysha could no longer see Evander, but her eyes landed on Edsel. He'd been thrown far off course, lying on the edges of the field. His gun was twenty feet away. He was weaponless. And still. Very still. For a moment, Trysha thought he was dead, killed by the impact.

And then he shifted, clambering up to his feet. The sight was enough to spur Trysha back into action.

She sprang to her feet and shouted at Trevor.

"Get to the house."

For a moment, he didn't move.

"Now!"

Suddenly, he blinked and shook his head, as if being pulled out of a daze. Then he nodded and ran. Trysha followed right on his tail.

By then, the remaining Ravens were already running out of hiding, surging forward, ready to attack the defenseless Crown Fortier. None of the gunmen fired. They wouldn't be able to see anything through the smoke at that distance. They would be useless for at least a half minute.

Trysha was only halfway up the hill by the time the first Raven reached Edsel, knife raised. She watched as he, still on his knees shot his leg out, sweeping the Raven's feet out from underneath him. The Raven crashed to the ground just as Edsel kicked him in the back of the head. The Raven's movements were sluggish now as they grappled on the ground, fighting for control of the knife. Trysha saw clearly as Edsel managed to push the knife right through the Raven's neck. And then he flung it at another oncoming Raven.

Trysha pushed herself to run faster as five more Ravens reached him, attacking with full strength.

Edsel was standing upright now and Trysha could see the blood spewing from the side of his face, the way his left arm hung more limp than the other, the cuts and bruises all across his arms and, most importantly, the sizeable jagged rock that had lodged itself in his torso. It was so close to his heart. So close.

Edsel pulled it out of his torso, wincing only slightly. Blood streamed down his torso, but his movements were still smooth, if only a little slow, as he sliced at the oncoming Ravens with the bloody rock.

Edsel was half dead, and yet, by the time Trysha reached him, there were four dead bodies at his feet and the fifth was bleeding as he tried to fight against the mad relentless dog that Edsel had become.

Trysha didn't blink, didn't think as she uncurled her mace and flung it towards Edsel. It caught the side of his face.

He stumbled, roaring as he let go of the other Raven and gripped his cheek. She had a moment to take in her handiwork, to take in the blood spilling from the four gashes running along his cheek. She had taken out a large chunk of skin.

And then he was flinging the rock straight at her. Trysha sidestepped, dodging, but the movement gave Edsel enough time to twist the arm of the other Raven and grab his knife.

But as he sliced the Raven's throat, ready to put his full focus on killing Trysha, she had other plans. She quickly pulled out one of her guns with her left hand and cocked it, pointing it at Edsel as he turned. He flung the knife at her just as she pulled the trigger.

The bullet whizzed through the air. The knife lodged in Trysha's hand and she let out a scream of agony as she dropped the gun, letting it clatter to the ground. Still, she found satisfaction as Edsel roared clutching his chest, his hand right above his heart. He stumbled and then tripped right over one of the dead bodies, falling to his knees. Blood slipped down his hand.

Trysha winced, groaning as she pulled the knife out of her hand. It had shattered a few bones and torn through her tendons. Perhaps she should've left it in to stop the bleeding and contain the damage, but she could feel it scrapping against her remaining bones, the pain sending seering shockwaves up and down her arm, making it hard for her to focus. She wouldn't be able to use her hand for at least a month if she survived this.

Finally, with a heave, Trysha yanked it out, letting the knife slip to the ground, falling next to the gun. By the time she looked back up, Edsel, though still kneeling with a hand gripping his heart, had a gun in his hand. He must've grabbed it off a dead Raven. The barrel was staring her down, and though he was nearly dead and fifteen feet away, their view of each other hazy in the smoke, she knew he would be able to shoot her with ease, as he had the rest of her men. Trysha stilled.

"Drop the mace," he commanded.

Trysha hesitated and let it fall.

"Hands up."

Trysha obeyed, her lifting her hands, exposing her empty palms.

She waited for a moment, hoping another one of her Ravens would appear, but no one did. That's when she realized that they were all dead. Killed off by the explosions, by the shootout, by Edsel. The only people left were her, Trevor, and a few gunmen.

As if they knew she was thinking about them, her gunmen started to open fire again, but neither Trysha nor Edsel flinched as the bullets pelted around them. They both knew the gunmen were too far away and they wouldn't be able to get a clear shot unless they got closer. Judging from the erratic pattern of their shots, they were starting to sprint toward them, but she knew that by the time they reached a good range, this standoff would be over. Either Edsel or Trysha would be dead.

She just had to make sure it wouldn't be her, though that was easier said than done. Still, she had one last card up her sleeve, one last weapon. She prayed it would be enough.

"How did you know we would be here?" Edsel asked, his voice barely audible over the raging fire behind her.

Trysha didn't answer.

"Answer my questions, and you live," he heaved. His breath was weak and his body was shaking, but his grip on the gun remained hard and steady.

"I don't believe you," Trysha spat. "You're going to kill me anyway. Just like you did to my family."

"Ah, your family. I thought I recognized you. Trysha Dayholt, former Alpha and adopted sister of Chance Dayholt." His eyes scanned her with light amusement. "That's why you're here, isn't it? For your family. For Chance.

"Such a shame. A waste of an excellent assassin." He shook his head before he stopped, spitting out some blood, and fixing her with a hard stare once again. "I'm going to ask you one more time. How did you know we would be here?"

"The Raven Ruler told me," Trysha said carefully.

"The Raven Ruler," he repeated. "And who is the Raven Ruler?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"You worked for me for five years. I know you. You wouldn't rejoin a group that got your brother killed and then lead a suicide mission for them without some trust and leverage. You know. So, tell me, who is the Raven Ruler?"

Trysha jutted her chin up. "You know her."

Edsel's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"She goes by the name Phoenix Night."

His eyes widened and she could see the gears shifting behind his eyes as he tried to put the pieces together.

"The Court Assassin?" he asked, mostly to himself. "A Court member founded the Ravens?"

"Oh no," Trysha drawled. "Is that what your daughter told you? Phoenix Night isn't a Court Assassin. She's a thief. One of the best in the nation, if I'm not wrong."

"A thief," he breathed in frantic thought. "Phoenix Night."

Time to play the card.

"Yes, Phoenix Night," Trysha said, eyeing the gun barrel that was still pointed at her head. "Although, you know her better by another name. Her birth name."

Edsel's eyebrows furrowed. "Her birth name?"

Trysha gave a slow grin. "Arielle Fortier."

A moment passed in silence. Trysha could pinpoint the moment what she said had fully registered, could see the confusion in his eyes and then the shock and then the second wave of confusion. But she didn't bother studying his facial expressions for too long. Instead, she focused on the gun in his hand, on the barrel which wavered as he lost his focus.

It tilted away from her head. That was all she needed.

Trysha flicked her wrist, and a knife slid into her palm. She didn't hesitate, not even as Edsel noticed what she was doing and straightened his arm again. She flung the knife.

It lodged in the center of his throat, blood spewing as it sliced through the thin layer of skin and cut into his artery. The gun went off a split second later, the shot ringing in her ears.

Trysha gasped as the bullet made impact. But it hadn't hit a vital part of her. His aim was off because of the knife, and the bullet only caught her left shoulder. She grunted from the pain, but she stayed upright.

Edsel slumped, falling back onto the ground, blood spurting from his wound. More blood slipped from his mouth as he coughed, gasping. His eyes were wide, wild as he realized he was finally dying.

Trysha stumbled toward him, kneeling at his side. She closed her hand around the hilt of the knife.

"Do you know who gave me this knife? Who told me to use it to kill you?" she asked.

She watched as he struggled, rolling his eyes down, looking at the knife. And then he gasped louder, followed by particularly strong cough of blood. He recognized it. Recognized the golden triangles etched into the sliver steel, now covered in his blood.

Trysha leaned closer, hovering above him, like an angel peering down, just close enough that he could hear her even as she whispered.

"Your daughter sends her love."

And then she pulled the knife out.

His throat gurgled for another moment, coughing again, and then it stopped. Blood continued to spill from his open wounds and his mouth, but he was still.

Edsel Fortier was dead.

The world was silent. The gunmen—the only three left—reached the clearing at the top of the hill and they skidded to a stop, halting by the pile of bodies as they gazed at the former Crown Fortier.

Trysha hauled herself up to her feet with a groan. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face only to realize she was merely smeering blood across her cheeks. She didn't even realize how much it had soaked her, covered her hands and face and clothes.

She picked up her mace, placing it back in her belt and then took out another gun, holding it ready as she walked around the flaming piles of debris. She needed to find the Crown Kingston, make sure he was dead.

As she rounded the debris, a body came into view. It took her a long moment to realize that it was Evander.

He seemed to have managed to pat out most of the fires, but not soon enough. He had backed away from the bomb, but not fast enough. Most of his body was marred with burns, his clothes seared into his flesh, smoke still wafting from the cloth. His hands, the exposed skin along his torso, and half of his face was black and charred, burnt to crisp. A large piece of debris was buried in his torso. Other pieces were sprinkled all over his body. And yet, he was still alive.

His only functional eye blinked slowly, red and dry but moving. It was as if he was falling asleep and waking up again, slipping in and out of consciousness, swaying back and forth on the threshold between life and death.

But his eye seemed to register Trysha's presence. Because, as she approached, he lifted a gun. She skirted back, trying to put distance between herself and him as she raised her gun, but then paused.

He wasn't aiming at her. She followed the path of the gun barrel and realized who his target was.

Quinten Balker still laid on the ground a few feet away. He'd been shot and he was in a puddle of blood. But, with a start, Trysha realized that he was still alive. Still pushing through.

That was why the house hadn't gone into lockdown yet, hadn't shut its doors against the Ravens. Because it would only shut when either the owners reentered the house or when all of the owners were dead.

Trysha looked out across the field, back to the tree where the sniper had been only to find a raging fire in the branches. She'd been so preoccupied with killing the Crowns that she didn't even notice when the explosive went off, probably because the gun fell at the wrong angle.

Which meant that they had nothing to attack the house if it went into lockdown. They could always wait for Ravens to arrive with more materials and supplies, but what if the Assassins already knew something was wrong? Already sent reinforcements? They would find dead Crowns, but they would still try their best to kill Trysha and the Balkers' secret prisoner. This was her only chance to get the prisoner out and live. That house couldn't go into lockdown.

She looked back at the bodies before her. Judging from the bullet wound in Amelia Balker's head, she was already dead. And if Evander managed to shoot Quinten Balker...

No.

In a split second, Trysha raised her gun to Evander's head and pulled the trigger.

Two shots rippled through the air. A bullet lodged in Evander's forehead. But another one was in Quinten's.

The doors and windows of the house snapped shut with metal barriers sliding into place.

Evander's arm fell back down.

The Crown Kingston was dead.

They were both dead.

Trysha should've felt happy, but instead she could feel the panic seizing her throat as she looked at the locked up house.

No, no, no.

The house couldn't be locked down. It was the whole reason she agreed to do the job in the first place. To get inside that house.

Her conversation with Phoenix echoed through her mind once again.

"They go to the Balker estate regularly. The trips are mostly a secret so they only take a skeleton security team," Phoenix explained. "But, you need to eliminate them before they get in the house. The house goes into lockdown the moment the Crowns enter right up until they leave."

"Most house's security protocols are easy to get past."

"Not this house's. They installed a state of the art security system and equipment in the spring. It rivals that of Cressida's security. Once it locks down, you can only open it from the inside."

Trysha paused.

From the inside.

The panic had seized her involuntarily, not giving her time to think. To remember.

She had prepared for this. She sent Trevor into the house.

Right on cue, a rumble came from the house, roiling beneath her feet, and the hard metal wall slid away, revealing the open doors and windows once again. Trysha let out a sigh of relief as she ran for the doors. She was didn't think much of Trevor, but at that moment, she could kiss him.

She sprinted into the house, slowing as she reached Trevor who stood by a small screen. The security system, probably. He took in her ragged, bloodied form with a grimace, but said nothing.

"Did you find the secret prison cell?" Trysha breathed.

He pointed at the kitchen and Trysha turned to find a few of the wooden panels removed from the wall to reveal a hidden door. She waited only a split second as she pushed through the door and barrelled down the uneven metal stairs.

"Why?" Trysha asked Phoenix. "Why go through that much trouble? What do the Balker's have that needs to remain so guarded?"

"Not what," Phoenix corrected. "Who."

Trysha stopped at the foot of the stairs as she reached a small room. Blood coated the floors and it smelled horrid. Tables with bandages and numerous torture devices lined the walls. Chains jutted out of the ground. But Trysha barely registered any of those things, her vision narrowing to the figure at the center of the room. He was dressed in white rags which were smeared with blood and mud amongst other things. A black hood hung over his face.

"A person?" Trysha asked, skeptical. "They have all that security just to hide a person?"

"Not just any person. A prisoner. One with extensive useful information."

"Who?"

Trysha lifted the hood off the prisoner's head. His face was marred, bruised. Swollen. An eye was missing, the hollow space replaced with a bandage. She cupped the sides of his face and felt the broken bones beneath his skin. The sight made her throat constrict. Still she could recognize him.

Phoenix clicked her tongue. "Oh, please. You were an Alpha. Surely you're smart enough to figure it out."

Trysha frowned and Phoenix continued. "He carried so much valuable information about the Ravens and Indigo Fluor and even the Crowns themselves. Did you really think they would just kill him? Did you really think Xavier Kingston is stupid enough to let all that information go to waste?"

Trysha felt the air get sucked out of her lungs. She knew what Phoenix was implying, but...

"What are you talking about?" Trysha asked. She couldn't make assumptions, not if they led to false hope.

Phoenix continued.

"You really think Xavier Kingston walked into that cave under the school, knowing he would be confronting the school's mole, without a plan? That he wouldn't load his gun with the school's fake bullet pellets? The ones used for the games? Ones that could knock a man unconscious if shot in the head, but wouldn't kill? Ones that could fake a death?" Phoenix tilted her head with a knowing smirk. "Do you still not know who the prisoner is?"

"Chance," Trysha breathed, gently pushing the overgrown hair out of his tortured face. He let out a soft grunt and his one remaining eye slowly opened, as if that one small movement took every ounce of his energy. His soft grey eyes wondered at her face.

"Akka?" he heaved.

Akka. The word meaning older sister in Trysha's native language. The word she taught him. The word he had called her whenever they were in private, when they snuck around the house at night to get some cookies, when they fought and shouted at each other, when they gifted each other presents.

A sob escaped Trysha's throat. "You're alive."

He shook his head slowly. Strained. "You're not here."

"I am."

"How? How would you get here?"

After a long silence, Trysha spoke again. "I swear, if what you're saying is a lie—"

"It's true," Phoenix said. "I have no reason to lie."

"You could be manipulating me into killing the Crowns for you."

She considered her words and shrugged. "Maybe. But do you really want to take the risk of abandoning your brother?"

Phoenix stepped closer to her, her words barely more than a whisper. "I would give you my resources. You could free him and kill the Crowns. All in one sweep. Two birds, one stone."

"Two birds, one stone," Trysha echoed, muttering mostly to herself.

"You're not really here," he said again, as if he couldn't hear her. "This is another trick. Another hallucination. You're not here. You're never here."

Tears started to slip down her cheek. "I'm sorry. For all the pain you suffered. I'm so sorry."

She pressed a light kiss to his forehead as she felt him slipping away again, falling unconscious once more.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered again.

Behind her, Trevor cleared his throat.

"Trysha," he said softly. "We have to go. Reinforcements are going to be arriving soon."

Trysha nodded, forcing the tears to stop falling. Forcing herself to gather her composure. She schooled her voice as she spoke again.

"Help me with him."

Trevor stepped forward and went to Chances side as she moved to the other. The Balkers hadn't bothered to chain or handcuff him, and as Trysha grasped his arm she realized why.

The bones were shattered. Completely broken apart. Useless.

They'd broken him physically and mentally. Destroyed him so thoroughly that there wasn't even a chance he could run away, could escape his gruesome fate.

The thought made her stomach churn. It was an effort to push down the bile that climbed up Trysha's throat when she placed his arm on her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his back, feeling the shattered ribs and disjointed shoulder. His shirt was thin enough that she could feel every bruise, every incision, every gaping wound through the fabric.

She nodded at Trevor and they lifted him up by shoulders with ease. Far too much ease. He'd lost so much weight.

As they walked him to the stairs, anger roiled through Trysha's bones. Consuming, blinding anger.

Yes, what Chance did had been wrong. She realized that over the past few months. There had to have been a better way to handle the whole situation than teaming up with Ravens and picking off Evandor Prep's students, no matter how corrupt or vile those students and their families were. Chance should never have hunted them down and Trysha should never have supported him. And perhaps retribution was in order. They deserved to be punished, one way or another.

But he didn't deserve this. Trysha had seen all kinds of torture during her time as an assassin and then again with the Ravens and when on the run. But this far bypassed anything she had seen. It wasn't torture for the sake of retribution or gathering information. It was sick and twisted cruelty, carried out by monsters who found satisfaction other people's suffering.

And Edsel? Edsel was Chance's father. He knew Chance was his son. And yet, he still let the Balkers have their way with him. Perhaps he had even done some of these things himself. Not only did he kill Chance's family and then abandon him, but he hurt him in more ways than anyone had ever even thought to try before. He had shattered him, left him as a broken heap of blood and bone. And he was ready to come back and kill him today. All for the sake of keeping his crown, of keeping the Fortier name untarnished.

And the Court and the rest of the Assassins had allowed him to do it by giving him power and resources and privilege. And they heralded his cruelty, praised it as if that made him qualified to lead an entire nation. And they covered up his monstrous deeds all for the sake of money and power.

Well, no more.

Before, Trysha and Chance joined the Ravens out of convenience. Later, Trysha joined them out of necessity. Now, she would stay with them because she truly, with every fiber of her being, wanted them to win. She needed them to win. She didn't care who took down the Assassins as long as they won. And, right now, the Ravens were her best bet.

She just killed the Crowns after a declaration of war. Which meant that the crowns would pass on to their children. Their eldest children. One was Xavier Kingston. But the other one, the true heir of the Unassailable Crown, was her brother.

Trysha wasn't naive enough to think that Chance would ever get the crown, that the Assassins would let that happen, that Phoenix Night would let that happen, that Arielle Fortier, or rather Daria, would let that happen. But the information alone would be enough to weaken her position, to help make people switch sides or, at the very least, remain neutral. And the Ravens had the resources and power to take care of the rest.

She killed the Crowns. She got Chance back. She had the Ravens at her side. And as she walked out of the house, her little brother in her arms, bodies littering the driveway and the field, fires still raging on, she knew the truth. That whatever happened next, the outcome would be the same.

The Assassins would fall. One by one.

Normally, I'd talk about everything in an Author's Note right here, but I have quite a few things to say. For personal updates, updates about Crown Assassins, and more, please refer to my message board under my profile. There will be two separate announcement threads (one more personal, one more official updates). Please take the time to read them if you can.

Thank you for reading this chapter! See you again soon!

~Sreenija Paruchuri