Alicia's ambush had been clean, sharp, and fast—so fast, in fact, that even she was impressed with herself.

But what completely threw her off was the reaction—or lack thereof—from the room.

She had a dagger pressed to Skinny Pete's throat. A hostage situation, textbook leverage. She expected panic, shouting, maybe someone begging her to calm down.

Instead, no one even flinched.

No tension. No fear. Not even a raised eyebrow.

What the hell?

Did they not care if she slit this guy's throat? Or was this guy just that unpopular?

"Not bad, huh?" Ethan said casually, glancing at Pete. "Her ability's got some bite."

"Yeah, she's good," Pete replied, nodding with genuine admiration.

He wasn't even mad. Just impressed.

Sure, she'd only stunned him for two seconds—but in a real fight, two seconds was all it took to lose everything. And now here he was, a hostage in his own living room.

"You're seriously chatting right now?" Alicia snapped, tightening her grip. "You're a hostage! Shouldn't you be a little more concerned? I could kill you!"

She looked around, baffled. "What is wrong with you people? Do you think I won't do it?"

What she didn't know was that it wasn't about whether she would kill Pete.

It was that she couldn't.

Not here. Not with this crew.

Ethan could yank her off him with Telekinesis before she blinked. Chris could vanish and reappear with a blade at her spine. Garrick could skewer her with a spike of earth from beneath her feet. Hell, even if she somehow managed to slit Pete's throat, Henry could probably patch him up unless she took the whole damn head off.

And from the look of her grip, she wasn't getting anywhere near that.

"Easy, sweetheart," Pete said, wincing. "You're digging in a little."

"Shut up! You're a hostage—you don't get to talk!" Alicia barked.

"What, hostages don't have rights now?" Pete frowned. "I'm just saying, you might wanna be nicer to me. I was gonna leave your body intact tonight, but keep this up and I might toss you naked into a zombie pit."

"…"

"You really think I won't kill you?" Alicia growled.

"Go ahead. Try it," Pete said, deadpan.

"…"

Alicia was on the verge of a breakdown. What kind of freak show had she walked into?

She turned to Ethan, desperate now. "Let me go. Please. I'm not with the Harlan family."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You're not? Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm Mayor Marks's deputy chief of staff," she said quickly. "He sent me to assist the Harlan family in dealing with you. You've already pissed them off—do you really want to piss off the government too?"

"If you let me go, I'll talk to Mayor Marks. I'll make sure he backs off. No more interference. Deal?"

Ethan leaned back, unimpressed. "Yeah, see, that doesn't really work for me. Mayor Marks already put a bounty on our heads. Whether we kill you or not, we're already on his shit list."

"That's not the same!" Alicia insisted. "That bounty was just politics—he only did it to keep the Harlan family happy. You killed some nobody. But me? I'm different. I'm his right hand. If you kill me, he'll lose it. We're talking full-scale retaliation."

Ethan tilted his head. "Deputy chief of staff, huh? Or are you his mistress?"

Alicia's face went blank. "…"

"Doesn't matter," Ethan said with a shrug. "We've already burned the bridge with the Harlans. What's one more enemy? If Mayor Marks wants to come after us, let him."

Alicia's heart skipped a beat at Ethan's words. She hadn't expected him to be this reckless—this arrogant. He wasn't just unafraid of the Harlan family; he was ready to spit in the government's face too.

Fine, she thought, tightening her grip on the dagger. If she couldn't escape, she'd at least take someone down with her.

She drove the blade forward.

Thud.

A dull, heavy sound rang out behind her.

Chris shimmered into view, his invisibility fading as he lowered his barbell bar. Alicia crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

He shook his head, looking down at her. "Gotta admit, she's got guts. Trying to take a hostage in our house? That's bold."

Then he turned to Pete with a smirk. "Congrats, man. First member of the Fallen Star Squad to get taken hostage by a woman. That's a record."

Pete scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "Caught me off guard, alright? Her ability's no joke."

"Pfft. Save it," Big Mike scoffed. "You got played. Just say it."

"…"

Pete straightened up, trying to salvage some dignity. "Once I get her ability, you all better watch yourselves. I'll have you stripping in the middle of Main Street."

"…"

Chris and Big Mike exchanged a look of pure horror.

"Ethan," Chris said, deadpan, "maybe we just kill her now. Forget the ability."

"I second that," Big Mike said, nodding solemnly. "If Pete ends up charming us into dancing naked in public, I'm gonna haunt you."

"That power's cursed."

"Alright, enough," Ethan said, waving them off. "Pete, take her. We'll deal with the transfer tonight."

"Got it."

"Wait," Sean asked, frowning. "Why not just do it now? Can't we transfer the ability during the day?"

"I'm not sure," Ethan admitted. "But I've got a theory. I think the kill has to happen under the Nine-Star Dipper. That's when the ability turns into light and gets absorbed by the constellation. If we kill her now, it might just vanish."

It was a guess, sure—but Ethan wasn't about to risk it. Awakened were rare enough. No point gambling when all they had to do was wait a few hours.

"Alright," he said, standing. "Everyone pack up. We're leaving this place."

He'd sounded casual when talking to Alicia, but Ethan wasn't stupid. He knew better than to actually ignore the government.

If Mayor Marks had issued a bounty over some low-level grunt, killing his right-hand woman might earn them a missile strike.

And Ethan had no illusions—if the government wanted to flatten them with long-range artillery, they wouldn't last five minutes.

Still, that didn't mean he was letting Alicia go.

Letting her walk would be a concession. A sign of weakness.

And Ethan didn't do weakness.

Besides, killing her meant gaining another Awakened for the squad. That was worth more than any temporary peace.

So what if they had to run?

They'd done it before. They could do it again.

The others looked around the house with reluctant eyes. It had been a damn comfortable place—soft beds, hot showers, a stocked kitchen. But no one complained. They moved fast, packing what little they had.

Most of their gear was light. The real loss was the stockpile of supplies they couldn't carry—canned food, medicine, ammo. They grabbed what they could: beef jerky, bottled water, bread. Enough to keep them going on the road.

Meanwhile, Ethan headed out back.

In the yard, the iron cage still stood, filled with groaning, low-tier zombies. He made quick work of them, dispatching each one with clean, efficient strikes.

Then he dismantled the cage, breaking it down into manageable pieces and tying them into a bundle.

He was taking it with him.

It had proven useful—and he had plans.

He wasn't interested in keeping weak zombies around. No, Ethan wanted to raise something stronger.

A Stage D Tier 6 zombie.

The cage wouldn't hold one of those, of course. But it could hold a Tier 5 with its limbs broken. He'd toss one in, feed it, let it evolve—and then kill it when the time was right.

It'd be slow, sure. But better than hunting one down in the wild.

Once everything was ready, Ethan slung the bundled cage over his back and rejoined the others.

Together, the Fallen Star Squad left Lakeview Estates behind.

They didn't look back.

But every one of them carried the same thought:

We're still not strong enough.

Not yet.

...

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