For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The warehouse remained trapped in an uneasy silence.
Smoke drifted lazily upward.
The remains of the two guards still smoldered on the concrete floor.
Nobody wanted to be the first person to continue the conversation.
Nobody except Belizaire.
The arms dealer rubbed his forehead.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if trying to prevent a headache.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t working.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jarrick blinked.
“Me?” “Yes.” Belizaire pointed toward the smoking remains of the guards.
“You.” Jarrick shrugged.
“They insulted us.” “You murdered my employees.” “They insulted us.” Kirran noticed something disturbing.
Jarrick genuinely didn’t understand the difference.
Then another.
Then another.
It didn’t help.
Belizaire took a deep breath.
Renée wisely remained silent.
Blaze remained amused.
Blizzard remained expressionless.
Only Zyla looked uncomfortable.
As though she’d already experienced this exact conversation dozens of times.
Which she probably had.
“I’m sorry.” Zyla stepped forward.
“My brother has always had difficulty controlling his temper.” “Difficulty?” Belizaire stared.
“He incinerated two people.” Jarrick crossed his arms.
“They had it coming.” “No.” “They did.” “No.” “They absolutely did.” Belizaire looked ready to throw something.
Possibly Jarrick.
Kirran honestly couldn’t blame him.
Then— Zyla stopped speaking.
Stopped moving.
Stopped blinking.
Her eyes shifted toward the warehouse wall.
Toward the window.
Toward Kirran.
Not literally.
But close enough.
“Oh no.” Mach immediately understood.
“Oh no.” Kirran’s heart stopped.
Mach immediately understood.
“Oh no.” Zyla narrowed her eyes.
Someone was there.
Watching.
Listening.
Observing everything.
And she knew it.
Kirran slowly backed away from the window.
Very slowly.
Very carefully.
Maybe she hadn’t seen him.
Maybe she was looking at something else.
Maybe— “HEY.” Kirran froze.
Inside the warehouse, every head turned.
Every single one.
Toward the window.
Toward him.
Toward disaster.
Mach nodded.
“A reasonable assessment.” Belizaire followed Zyla’s gaze.
Then frowned.
“There is someone outside?” Renée’s eyes widened.
The remaining guards immediately raised their weapons.
The situation deteriorated with alarming speed.
Kirran considered running.
Flying.
Screaming.
All three seemed equally valid.
“Snat.” Unfortunately, his body chose panic instead.
Which wasn’t especially useful.
Inside, Belizaire slammed a fist against a crate.
“What kind of circus operation is this?!” Nobody answered.
The arms dealer pointed toward the Wheelers.
“The deal is off.” Silence.
“You hear me?” Still silence.
“The deal.” His voice rose.
“IS OFF.” Renée immediately moved beside him.
“Mr.
Belizaire—” “No.” “We should leave—” “Absolutely.” Belizaire pointed toward the exit.
“Now.” The remaining guards quickly formed a protective perimeter around him.
The arms dealer wasn’t taking any chances.
Not anymore.
Not after this disaster.
Not after witnesses.
Not after Jarrick.
Especially not after Jarrick.
As Belizaire departed, Jarrick squinted toward the window.
Then his eyes widened.
Recognition.
Immediate recognition.
“Oh.” He pointed.
“That’s the Dumbsnat.” Kirran’s soul left his body.
Briefly.
Only briefly.
But still.
“Oh no.” Blaze immediately laughed.
“I knew he looked familiar.” Zyla’s expression hardened.
This wasn’t funny anymore.
Not to her.
Not to Blizzard.
Not to anyone except Jarrick.
“We don’t know how much they heard.” Kirran swallowed.
A lot.
The answer was a lot.
“We don’t know how long they’ve been watching.” The answer was also a long time.
Very long.
Far too long.
The realization settled across the warehouse.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Unavoidable.
Kirran knew their secret.
And now— They knew he knew.