**22**
The night before the strike, Lisa made her last mistake.
She escaped transport to a Council prison. Bribed a guard, stole a car, and drove straight to the neutral zone bar on the edge of our territory, the same bar where Victor had first told Damien to walk away.
She walked in at midnight wearing a red dress and a smile sharp enough to cut glass.
The second Victor's phone lit up with the alert, he was already pulling on his jacket.
I was right behind him.
We rode in together, my arms locked around his waist, the bond singing with lethal anticipation.
The bar went dead silent when we stepped inside.
Lisa stood at the jukebox, pretending to study the songs, but her pulse was racing, I could hear it across the room.
Victor didn't speak. Just walked straight to her, grabbed her
