"Abram," Owen said, breathing harder now, chest rising and falling. "You're stupid enough to travel with a hairy man you don't know and a girl who turned on you the first chance she got."
I braced, trying to read where he was going. Richard. Jenn.
"They're no more," he said, smiling. "But you can remember them by this. They left you to die in the desert."
He was buying time. Recovering from the first round. Talking to slow the pace.
"No more," I said. "What does that mean?"
"I killed them," Owen said, the smile widening. "They ran off in my car, remember."
"Why?"
Behind him, Mary was pushing herself up against the wall, one hand braced on the metallic surface.
"They were traitors. You should thank me." His smile held. "You have a real talent for fighting on the wrong side. Here you are doing it agai—"
I discharged.
