Adam spotted Sern by the side of the road and braked hard. Without a word, he climbed out and motioned for Hezme to take the wheel. His fists clenched as he strode toward Sern.
"I'm not here to fight," Sern said, his face unreadable. "I came to ask you to join my fold."
Adam scoffed. "You tried to kill me. Why the hell would I join anything with you?" He turned away, shaking his head.
"You'd be saving lives. Keeping the universe safe."
Adam didn't stop walking. "Why don't you ask Spam? Or the folks at the Bekanna? I'm sure they'd love to join your fold."
Sern kept talking, but Adam had already tuned him out.
Adam frowned. Isn't he the most wanted man on this planet? What the hell is he doing walking the streets?
He turned back—but Sern was gone. A cold unease settled in his stomach. Should he have turned him in?
Before he could think too much about it, sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. He ducked into an alleyway and pressed against the wall, waiting for them to pass. When the sound faded, he touched his side where he'd been shot, wincing. He couldn't reach the wound properly. He needed to get home.
When he arrived, Hezme and Main were already there. Hezme barely had time to react before he wrapped his arms around her.
"Where's the car?" he asked.
"We left it in a car park in Spore," Hezme said.
Adam let out a breath of relief.
"Who was that back there?" Hezme asked.
"Sern."
Hezme's face darkened. "Shuxeta's Sern? I thought he wanted you dead."
"Sern was here?" Main asked. Adam ignored him.
"Apparently, he wants me to join him," Adam said.
"To do what?"
"I don't know."
Hezme sighed, then headed to the pantry, grabbing ingredients and setting to work on dinner. As she cooked, Adam went to check on Shuxeta.
She was curled up on the bed, hugging her knees.
"You've been in bed all day?" Adam asked.
"The voices are getting louder," she murmured.
Adam knelt beside her. "Picture a chessboard," he said gently. "All the pieces laid out, every thought in its place."
She closed her eyes, breathing slowly as she imagined it. It worked—her awareness sharpened, and she blinked, looking up at him.
"You're hurt."
Before he could brush it off, she grabbed a medical kit. Sitting him down, she cut open his shirt, exposing the wound. As she worked, the edges of the injury began knitting together on their own.
She grabbed a pair of tweezers, carefully searching for the bullet. Then, taking her phone, she held it over the wound. A few clicks later, the screen lit up with an image—clear as day, the bullet sat lodged beneath his skin.
Hezme walked in, saw them, and immediately turned around before they could notice her. Without a word, she went back to the kitchen.
Main glanced after her. "Something wrong?"
"Nothing. Everything's fine," Hezme said, focusing on her cooking.
Main didn't push. Instead, he left the kitchen and found Adam in the living room.
"I know you don't like me," Main said, his voice low, "but if you ever hurt my sister, I won't let it slide."
Adam scoffed. "I cause her pain? You faked your own death. You volunteered for an experimental procedure without telling her. Don't stand here and lecture me." He stepped closer, eyes cold. "Talk to me like that again, and you'll wish you never left your cell."
Adam was heading to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. He frowned, then went to answer it.
Two men stood outside, dressed like monks. They wore deep blue habits with light blue trim.
"Adam?" one of them asked.
"Who's asking?"
"The Godself Council."
Adam stared at them. The name meant nothing to him. He figured they were here because of his earlier activities.
"No, we're not here about Main," one of them said.
Adam stiffened. He had just thought that.
You can read minds?
"Yes. Now come with us."
They stepped aside, leaving space for him to walk out.
After a brief hesitation, he did. The monks closed in around him, and they took him away.