Page 89 of Twilight Tactics

“You too, son. You too.”

Sully headed for the door, his concern for those at the ranch growing with each step. The pieces were falling into place, but there were some still missing. The mob’s involvement made sense, but the preppers’ motives remained a mystery. Sure, they wanted the mob’s money, but it was more than that. If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say it was tied to Elena’s past with them. Maybe even something to do with her family.

Whatever was going on, one thing was certain. Elena was still in danger.

18

Overwhelmed with everything going on in the house, Elena stepped outside for a moment to think. The vets were already doing what they could to get the repairs started.

The attack had happened mere hours ago, and these incredible people who had arrived wounded and scarred were now reaching out to help the ones who’d helped them.

Her throat tightened. She really did live in an amazing community. So different from the one she’d left. So different from the people she’d escaped from years ago. Which reminded her of the moment she’d realized she was losing her sister.

Eleanor and Iris had just finished a training session and it hadn’t gone well. Iris walked slightly ahead of Eleanor, her posture rigid, shoulders square, the curve of her spine tense beneath the field jacket she now wore like armor. Her fists were clenched at her sides.

They’d just completed the “skills review” assigned to all members over the age of twelve. Eleanor’s fingers still trembled from trying to start a fire under timed pressure while two stone-faced adults marked notes on a clipboard.

But it wasn’t her performance that lingered in her mind—itwas Iris’s. Iris had been called to demonstrate tactical obedience. “You,” the evaluator had said, pointing. “Take down the threat. No hesitation.”

The “threat” had been another teen, blindfolded and playing a role. Iris hesitated—only a fraction of a second—but it was enough to draw a sharp rebuke.

“Second thoughts get people killed,” the man barked.

Eleanor had seen the flicker in Iris’s eyes—a flash of shame, then fury, then something worse: surrender. Iris completed the exercise after that, her movements swift and practiced. No emotion. Just precision.

Later, walking back in the cold, Eleanor struggled to keep pace. “You didn’t have to do it like that,” she said, her voice soft. No rebuke, just a statement.

Silence.

“You weren’t supposed to actually throw him to the ground.”

Still no response.

“Iris?”

Her sister finally stopped, keeping her back to Eleanor for a few seconds. When she turned, her face was pale in the security light, lips pursed, eyes hollow. Blank. “I did what I had to do, El.”

“But that’s notyou.” Eleanor’s voice cracked. “We promised each other, remember? We weren’t going to turn into one ofthem.”

“I can’t be that girl anymore,” Iris said, her emotionless voice spearing Eleanor more than her words. “They’re watching me now. Watching both of us. You saw what happened last week.”

A chill ran through Eleanor. Last week, a boy named Mason had been removed from their cabin group after arguing during weapons inspection. He hadn’t been seen since.

“I know,” Eleanor whispered. “But I just ... I guess I’m just begging you, don’t let them turn you into someone else.”

For the briefest moment, something flickered across Iris’s face—grief, guilt, exhaustion.

Then she took a step back.

“Do you want to survive here, El?” she asked. “Because survival means blending in. It means not reacting when they shout, not crying when they strip you of everything familiar. It means doing the hard thing first so they won’t make it worse later.”

“I don’t care,” Eleanor said, blinking fast. “Not if it means losing you.”

Iris’s jaw clenched. Her hand twitched at her side like she wanted to reach out but didn’t. “You have to stop needing me to be who I was,” she said, and her voice broke even as she tried to steady it. “Because I can’t protect you if I don’t change.”

The words hit like a slap—not because they were cruel, but because they were so obviously true.

Eleanor stepped back, stung. “You’re choosingthem.”