She’s exhausted. Probably hasn’t slept in days. But she’s looking at me with fire in her eyes. She knows this is all just getting started.
“So what now?” she asks, getting right down to it.
I search the corpse of the Overseer for a key to the vault. I find nothing.
“I need to go and square some things away with the Mayor,” I answer. “Make things right. Make sure that he calls off the Mercs and tells the Enforcers to lay down their weapons and get the hell out of here.”
“Do you think they’ll go for that?”
“If they don’t, they’ll answer to me. And trust me, they don’t want that. They don’t have their precious Overseer, their ultimate weapon to protect them anymore. Not that he was doing a lot of protecting in the first place.”
And I can’t help but get the feeling that maybe the Overseer enjoyed the killing, the massacres.
Death.
Like he was fascinated by it.
I try not to crawl into his headspace. That way lies madness.
“He didn’t have a key on him?” Angel asks.
“No. Nothing.”
“Strange,” she says softly, too tired to think about the key or where it’s hidden or who possesses it. “What do you want me to do?” she asks.
“I need you to lay low. Stay here. Watch this vault door. If anything nasty comes through, you raise the alarm.”
She gives me a weak thumbs up, letting me know she understands. Her eyes are becoming distant though. She is definitely exhausted.
“And get some rest,” I say. “You’re gonna need it. Where are the rest of the girls?”
“They’re safe. For the moment. They’re hidden.”
“Nowhere is safe. Not here.”
“Trust me. I’m the only one who knows where they are.”