Chapter 56: Different ball park

The city rose out of the dark like a broken jaw.

St. Louis.

Carl leaned forward slightly in the passenger seat, eyes tracing jagged silhouettes against the night sky. Half-lit towers loomed, some windows gaping like empty sockets, whole sections swallowed by shadow. The Arch rose faintly in the distance—a pale, curved ghost bleeding into low-hanging clouds.

Adira slowed the car.

Burned-out vehicles littered the highway shoulder. Barricades of concrete slabs and twisted rebar funneled them into a single, choked lane. Old signage hung crooked, paint flaking to rusted metal.

ST. LOUIS METRO ZONE — ENTRY RESTRICTED

Someone had spray-painted over it.

RESTRICTED BY WHO?

-H. FINKLEWORTH

Carl exhaled slowly.

“So this is it,” he muttered.

Adira didn’t answer. Her eyes swept the streets and rooftops, deliberate, calculating, too still to be empty. She killed the headlights, letting the car coast forward under the pale wash of moonlight.

They crossed the threshold.

The air shifted immediately—dense, heavy, like the city was holding its breath. Every sound amplified: the crunch of tires over gravel, the hiss of the wind through broken windows, a distant drip of water echoing in alleyways.

Carl’s hand drifted to the gun at his side without thinking.

“You feel that?”

Adira nodded once.

“Yeah.”

They passed under a collapsed overpass, scorch marks clawing up the concrete. A convoy of abandoned cars sat frozen mid-escape, doors gaping, bones picked clean. Fresh boot prints marred the dust, edges still sharp. Someone had been here recently.

“It’ll be convenient for us if Adrian and the rest of them decide to stock up here,” Carl said, lifting a random can.

“That means we’ll get to them before Texas.”

Adira barely glanced at him.

“…yeah.”

Carl tossed the can once, playful, but it clanged hollow against the asphalt.

“Why do you sound like that?”

“It just feels unlikely we’ll find Adrian before the Crucible does.”

Carl raised an eyebrow.

“They know what they’re doing. They’re cunning. They have infastructure. And you should already know they aren’t limited to Chicago.”

Carl’s smile faltered.

“Well…then we’ll have to be better. You know enough about them to predict their moves.”

Adira frowned.

“Don’t you?”

Then— something skittered down the street.

Carl froze.

“Did you hear—”

A figure emerged.

Female. Young. Too still.

She stood beneath a flickering streetlight, head tilted as if listening to a rhythm only she could hear. Her clothes hung wrong— stiff with dried blood, one sleeve nearly torn away.

Her eyes were wrong. Not glazed. Too precise. Too focused.

Blood crept from her nose in a slow, deliberate line, trailing to her upper lip and dripping off her chin, black against the cracked pavement.

Drip. Drip.

Adira swore under her breath.

The woman’s smile wasn’t wide. Not aggressive. Just…curious.

“Adira…—”

Her gun rose, smooth, practiced.

The shot tore through the night. The woman’s head snapped back violently, collapsing like a ragdoll. Silence followed, thick and sudden, pressing in from all sides.

Carl flinched, heart hammering. He stared at the body, then at Adira.

“It didn’t even attack us,” he muttered. “You’re just wasting bullets—”

Her eyes met his, cold, unyielding.

“If I didn’t kill it,” she said low and sharp, “it would’ve caused more problems later.”

Carl frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?”

She scanned the alleys, rooftops, windows—every shadow, every crack in the concrete.

“We should go.”

She spat the words, hard and certain. Carl blinked, unsettled.

Her hand found his. They began walking briskly.

More red eyes appeared—like the first, emerging slowly from alleyways, peering from windows, rooftops, some twitching unnaturally, some laughing quietly, hauntingly, from the dark corners.

“Adira…? What the fuck is going on??”

They wasted no time.

They ran. Back to the car. Adira yanked the doors open, engine roaring to life. Tires screamed across asphalt as they tore through the night, leaving the shadows behind—but not the sense that something was already following.

The tent flap snapped shut behind me.

“Three fingers, Hailey?” My voice broke the air apart before I could stop it. “Three? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

The space exploded with movement.

Rifles came up instantly— metal clicks, fingers tightening on triggers, bodies shifting into kill positions. My chest heaved as I stormed forward anyway, fists clenched so hard my hands shook. I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

Hailey lifted one hand.

That was all it took.

“Enough,” she said calmly.

The guns lowered.

The silence that followed was worse.

She turned her head slightly, eyes never leaving mine.

“Leave us.”

Her enforcer stiffened. “A—are you sure?”

Hailey’s gaze snapped to her.

Cold. Flat. Final.

The woman swallowed, nodding quickly. The others followed her lead, backing out of the tent one by one. Canvas rustled. Footsteps retreated. When the last of them disappeared, the tent felt too small. Too close.

I didn’t wait.

“Explain yourself.” My voice dropped, dangerous and tight.

Hailey smiled.

That fucking smile.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she said lightly.

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.”

She stepped closer.

“After all,” she added softly, “this is my kingdom.”

The word kingdom slithered through the air.

I took a step back without meaning to.

Every instinct in me screamed to draw a gun. To end this. Right here. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. My jaw clenched until it hurt.

“What you did was overkill,” I said, forcing each word through my teeth. “Cherie was part of my group. She didn’t—”

“Oh, please.” Hailey waved a dismissive hand. “Spare me the bullshit.”

I stared at her, thrown.

“I saw the way you treat her,” she continued, circling slowly now, like she was inspecting something she already owned.

“You’re not close. Not really.”

My fists tightened.

“That’s why she was perfect.”

The words landed wrong.

“It could’ve been Aubrey,” she said casually. “Terri. Hale.” Her eyes flicked up, amused.

“That feral bitch—Lila.”

My breath caught.

“But I decided against it.”

She smiled wider when she saw my face.

“And I was kind,” she added. “I didn’t even kill her.”

The silence stretched.

Something inside me cracked.

“I’ll never get with you,” I said hoarsely. “Not if you’re willing to go this far.”

For just a second—just one—her expression faltered.

Then it smoothed over.

“That’s okay,” she said.

I frowned. “What?”

“I already realized playing nice wouldn’t get me anywhere with you.”

She closed the remaining distance in two steps.

My back hit the tent wall.

My pulse spiked as her hand came up, gripping my jaw, forcing my face to turn. Her fingers were warm. Steady. Possessive.

My mind flashed— unbidden— to the bite mark on her hand. The one Lila had left. The moment Hailey had been humiliated in front of her own people.

Her eyes glittered as she examined me.

“That,” she murmured, “was you being too clever for your own good.”

Her grip tightened.

“Just like peace,” she continued softly, “I’ve learned that the things I want don’t come by asking.”

I met her gaze, breath uneven.

“They’re taken.”

I tried to wrench free.

Once. Twice.

Nothing.

Her strength shocked me—unyielding, deliberate. Panic flared hot and sharp as my struggles grew more desperate. My chest burned. My vision blurred.

She smiled deeper.

“Oh,” she said, like she’d almost forgotten something. “One more thing.”

I hated that my eyes burned. Hated that tears threatened to spill no matter how hard I fought them.

“If you don’t help me fight the Crucible,” Hailey said calmly, “Cherie dies.”

The words settled like a verdict.

She leaned in, lips near my ear.

“Seems fair,” she whispered. “Doesn’t it?”

The tent felt like it was closing in.

And for the first time since all of this began—

I realized she wasn’t negotiating anymore.

She was collecting.

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