There! To the left.

Sprinting now, I hoof it to the corner and ram open the steel double doors.

Of course an alarm triggers, yowling to everyone: I’m right here!

But no one’s listening. The sound’s a blip on no one’s radar.

It’s a full-blown war zone outside.

And I’m blown away by what I see. Literally.

An aerial shell explodes six feet off the ground in front of me, and I’m blasted backward, my skull slamming pavement.

My head feels like it just split open. I have less than a second to check if all my pieces are intact before another shell detonates in yellow and green sparks. This one whistles and crackles, raining down flaming death stars.

And this one hits a target.

An arm drops on the sidewalk, right next to my feet. It’s clothed in a suit sleeve, it’s jeweled fingers still clinched around a gun. It’s an “it” now, right? Because the cartel guy “it” belonged to is sprawled facedown over the hood of a truck.

A truck that’s speeding my way, packed with a band of his buddies.

Swallowing a tirade of curses, I scramble back into the filtration building and bang the door closed with my boot.

Well, at least two things are going to plan.

Matías rallied his militia.

I unlocked the stronghold’s doors, and now they’re invading.

The battle has begun.

I gather all my wits and reach for my bag. Night vision goggles, check. Blackout mask, check. I pull both on and feel myself turn invisible in the dark. Drawing my pistol from my hip holster, I check the chamber. Locked and loaded.

I take a few of those deep breaths Ava likes.

“The future waits for no one,” I spur myself, and charge back through the door and out into the fight.

I take in the scene. My green phosphor vision conveys a mash of insanity.

Bullets fly across the sky like deadly neon-green fireballs. More fireworks burst in the air and on the ground, wreaking their havoc. Thousands of green bodies race around in the pitch black, fighting half-blind.

I slip under and past the bombardment and charge in the direction of the loudest ruckus, figuring that’s where Ava and Mira will most likely be. The center of the action.

Weaving through an obstacle course of slain bodies, I reach what looks at first like a well-organized miniforest, but then I work out that it must be some kind of orchard. Branches shatter from stray firework shells, sending wood shrapnel hurtling in all directions. I throw my arms over my head and neck and push on.

Fallen fruit litters my path, and I’m forced to kick every bullet-ridden green bastard out of the way so I don’t trip.

I’m moving too slow!

Where’s my team? Where’s Roth?

Right or left?!

To my right I see something stalk through the stunted trees. It’s shaped like an extremely large cat with vertical stripes like a tiger’s.

Wait, is that an actual tiger?!

A gunman in a suit stumbles right toward the beast, blindly spraying bullets in the wrong direction. The tiger pounces, striking the guy to the ground before he even knows what hit him.

Definitely a hard left, then.

Chasing the escalating booms! and pops! I make it to a roadway. I follow the single paved lane for a few yards, picking up speed, then I run into my next problem.

And it’s a big one.

The Texas State Guard is here. Like a lot of them.

A whole army’s worth. And they’re firing at the Salazar cartel—turning on them.

What the—?

Is Roth vying for a takeover?

All alliances appear to be off.

State Guard SUVs and military tanks choke the road ahead, obliterating anyone in their way.

I weigh my options.

To my right, a green sea of militia members swoops down on the soldiers, their cries drowning out the teeth-chattering pop, pop, pop, pop! of the State Guard’s gunfire.

To my left, I spot a stray Texas Guard in riot gear. The temptation to shoot is powerful—retribution for the cowards who shot me in the back in the Dallas tunnels—but I strong-arm the urge.

I need to get to Ava. Or Roth.

I’m on the verge of slipping past him when I immediately regret my decision to shelve my revenge, because the son of a governor lifts a Scream Gun and fires.

The auditory assault drops me—along with the entire militia wave—flat to the ground, squirming in agony in the dirt. My brain feels like the worst migraine on steroids. I try to roll away, but the shrill, lethal shockwave just gets louder.

Then I remember Ciro’s offerings.

With trembling hands, I pilfer my bag and dig out two items I could kiss him for.

I shove in a pair of high-tech earplugs, and the relief is instantaneous.

But I waste no time savoring the small victory. I snatch an abandoned firework from the ground, light the fuse by the flames of a burning bush, and launch the shell at the Scream Gun.

The explosion takes out both the sonic weapon and the Guard holding it. Two birds, one stone, like my girl would say.

Ava, where are you?

The militia surges back to its feet, redoubling the charge on the Guard’s SUVs and tanks.

Bullets whiz past me. I raise my gun and return fire, booking it toward a metal fence. I scramble up and over, then put as much distance as I can between the road and me.

I end up at a raised footpath that overlooks the Salazar Reservoir.

All up and down the dam and the embankments, it’s straight-up pandemonium. I’ve reached the center of the battle zone.

“Ava, where are you?” I shout, even though I know she’ll never hear me.

On the east bank, a militia group blasts a round of M-1000s into a whole troop of Texas Guards, knocking them down like bowling pins. But an armored helicopter with a Lone Star on its flank converges on the rebels from above, spitting machine-gun fire.

They drop like flies.

“That’s not a fair fight!” I yell, like anyone can hear my protest.

Then a pixie-haired figure charges into the heart of the clash.

Mira. She made it out of the pipes. Thank Goodwin.

I zoom in with my goggles, heart leaping, expecting to see Ava by her side. But I only spot Haven. Skye.

Ava’s absence is a gut punch. Worse. Like the concrete has been ripped from under my boots, and I’m spiraling downward.

I think of Rayla lying on the tunnel floors. Dead.

No, no, no. This isn’t happening.

Ava, I can’t lose you too.

I only just found you.

Setting my sights on a warpath, I’m on the verge of jumping down into the reservoir and swimming my way into the fray, but then I hear shouts.

Somewhere nearby, to my left.

More like death wails, actually, or screeches from the devil herself.

“You dare betray me?” a furious voice howls over the gunfire. “Your own blood and equal?”

The voice belongs to a girl in a low-cut suit, standing on the dam’s walkway. She has a diamond-crusted pistol in her hand, aimed right at the ex-governor.

Holy Whitman. Is a Salazar about to end this war for us?

But what did she mean by own blood?

I close in on Roth with my goggles. He sneers, then lifts his own gun.

“This territory is mine!” the girl seethes, firing a warning shot in the air. “Speak!” she bellows on repeat. Her screams become pleas. “Speak to me! Answer to your betrayal!”