“Okay, come on,” she said.

She turned and began walking. In a few seconds, she felt the steady, easy trot of Bravo beside her. He was very quiet, but there was something about the dog that smelled like danger.

“So,” Elle continued. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to sweep through the houses and look for anything we might be able to use, and then we’ll circle back and sit with Nathan until he…” She trailed off, rubbing her temples. “Well. I’m talking to a dog. I’ve finally cracked.”

Bravo chuffed under his breath, throwing his head back.

“Geez, don’t act so offended,” Elle muttered.

Then don’t offend me, kid.

Elle stared at Bravo. She blinked a few times. It was almost like she could hear him talking to her, slinging back sarcasm in the silence of the desert night. She shook her head and headed for the first shack in sight. It looked as beaten down as the rest — nothing special. Elle entered through an open window, picking her way through the wreckage within. There were broken floorboards, rusty nails. It smelled of wet earth and rotting wood. Bravo entered the building with Elle, sniffing carefully, silent as the night.

They searched the entire house. There was nothing but broken glass. They moved on to the next house, searching through the emptiness for something they might be able to use — scraps of food, maybe weapons. They came up short every time.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Elle stated.

Sunlight was quickly waning, casting black and gray shadows through the town. It seemed ghostly at night to Elle, and lonelier, in some ways, than the streets of Los Angeles.

They began walking back. Bravo stopped, a low growl in the back of his throat. Elle tensed, drawing away. She held her arm up defensively, half expecting the dog to lunge and take out a chunk of her skin.

“What’s with you?” Elle asked.

Bravo stalked forward, deliberate steps in the direction of the shadows between the buildings, the dirt road that curved through the small town. Elle followed his line of sight, but saw nothing. She lifted her hand above her head and closed her fingers around the katana, pulling it out of its scabbard.

The blade was light and balanced in her hands.

Bravo’s growl became louder, more urgent. He barked low. Elle’s heart began to race. What did the dog sense that she didn’t? A wild animal? Something worse?

“Who’s there?” Elle asked. “Show yourself.”

Her words came out shaky and uncertain. She sounded scared, and she hated herself for it. There was slight movement under the eaves of one of the buildings, and then there was something moving toward them. In the late hours of the evening, it was difficult to discern what it was, exactly. It was hunched over, close to the ground. It looked like a dog, larger and fiercer than Bravo.

And then Elle saw that it wasn’t a dog. It was a man.

She had never seen anyone in Los Angeles in this condition. He was stooped low, his hair was frayed and mottled with dried blood. His eyes held a feverish glaze as he stared at Elle and Bravo. She stood there, unmoving, looking at the misshapen man. He was terrifying. His face had been burned, one eye looked like it had been slashed out.

“What do you want?” Elle asked.

She felt a bolt of regret. She knew in that instant that no matter what she said or what she did, she would not be able to leave this place without dealing with the man. She couldn’t run, she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. He was now a threat, and Elle knew of only one way to deal with threats.

The man said nothing. He just stopped, slowing and watching the girl and the dog. And then, quicker than Elle could blink, he was running toward them. He sprinted with a manic energy, bolting across the open space that separated them. Elle was horrified. Her instincts held true, though, and she braced herself for his approach.

She drew the katana backward, prepared to swipe it through the air and kill the man if needed. Bravo barked louder, this time with menace. He ran forward and met the man halfway, striking like a bullet. His jaws sank into the man’s arm and he slammed him against the ground.

The man screamed. It was a raspy, desperate voice — it hardly sounded human. He grappled with the dog but Bravo was too strong. He tore into the man until he lie on the ground in a trembling, bloody heap.

“Bravo, stop!” Elle yelled. “Leave him!”

The dog paused, looked at Elle through eyes veiled with carnal instinct and military training. He pulled away from the man. Elle walked closer, studying him. Bravo hadn’t done more than tear his arm up — the rest of his body had been damaged by something else.

“What do you want?” Elle asked again.

The man looked up, shaking. Tears streamed down his wrinkled face.

“To die,” he whispered. “I want to die.”

Elle swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Who did this to you?” she asked.

He gazed straight through her, glassy-eyed. He went still.

Elle exhaled, looking at Bravo.

“You don’t mess around, dog,” she remarked. “You don’t trust anyone.” She cocked her head. “You and I might get along.”

Bravo stepped farther away from the now-dead man.

I get things done, he seemed to say. It’s my job.

Elle looked back at the man. She wondered what had happened to him. Why had he been wandering alone in the desert, burned and mutilated, left to die like a wounded animal? Had it been Omega? Had it been the Slavers?

She sighed. She would never know.

“Let’s go back,” Elle muttered.

She turned, and when she looked at Bravo, he followed her as if he understood every word she said.

The soldier named Nathan died that night.

Bravo let out a mournful howl. His master was dead. Elle buried Nathan. She found a rusty shovel in a pile of old mining equipment and dug a hole. She dug until her hands were covered in blisters and sweat stuck her clothes to her skin. She dragged his body into the hole and covered him with dirt. Bravo watched the entire thing with a baleful expression, whimpering and whining.

Elle used her katana to scrape letters into the side of the little cabin.

She didn’t know what else to say. Somehow, she thought that he’d appreciate the fact that his dog had stayed by his side until the end.

“Come on,” Elle said, sheathing the sword. “You’re with me now, Bravo.”

The desert was unforgiving. Elle was determined to beat it. Bravo trotted slowly beside her. Elle wrapped a thick scarf around her face. She had taken it from the dead man’s pack. It helped protect her skin from the gritty dust and sand.

“We’ve got a long walk, dog,” Elle said.

Bravo looked at her. Nothing new to me, he seemed to say.

“You up for it?” she asked.

Well, what else am I going to do, human?

She nodded.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

San Jacinto National Park — Slaver Territory

Elle ran quickly and quietly, dodging boulders and making her way through the pine trees. The smell of sugar pine and cedar was strong. The morning was crisp and silent. Elle was little more than a shadow, sprinting through the forest. And beside her, Bravo ran, too. He was quieter than Elle, his hunter’s instincts making him fast and alert.

Elle’s heart raced.

There was no stopping now.

There were no more options. This was the last resort.

48 Hours Earlier