When they were steps away from the SRV, Ivan thought, There are things we have to deal with.

The Runners were no doubt waiting to see what their leader would command them to do now.

When that was done, Ivan could be free, especially now that he was sure there was most definitely something between Ruth and Jordan.

And the right thing for him to do was to walk away.

He was good at that.

Being alone. The way things should be.

And free. What would he do with all that freedom?

For now he didn't have a clue.

45.

NAHARA.

Ivan entered the cabin of the SRV to see everyone else seated, looking exhausted and tense.

Jordan entered behind him and stopped in the doorway, leaning an arm on the frame and panting with exhaustion.

At the rear of the vehicle, Nahara was holding a gun, which was aimed directly at Annie's head.

Jordan looked up, saw what was happening, and started to move. Raised his rifle.

"Easy there, gunner," Nahara said. "I wouldn't want to hurt anyone because you go and do something stupid."

"Looks like you already have," Jordan said as he lowered his rifle.

"Good. Now just ... put your weapons on the floor. Your pistols, too, Delgato."

Ivan gently laid his rifle down, the stock positioned so he could grab it easily if he got the chance.

Did Nahara know that he had a handgun stuck under his belt at the back?

"How did you-?"

"Get free of the neuro-collar? Turns out one of your Runner friends came by to check things out. Figured that any friend of Kyros was a friend of his."

Ivan noticed that Nahara was still wearing the leg shackles.

"Didn't have the key for these, though." Nahara's stare was icy. "I assume one of you does? My guess would be our captain."

Ivan shrugged.

"So whoever has the key, come over here and undo the shackles. Oh, and the data crystal, too."

Ivan shook his head. Annie and the others all had their eyes on him. They looked scared, but Ivan was sure Jordan would back his play ... whatever it was.

"You really have it in you to kill innocent people?"

"Now!" Nahara shouted, his voice more of a bark. "Someone give me the damn key!"

Ivan started to dig in his right pocket, pretending to fetch it.

"Nice and slow," Nahara said. "No tricks. No surprises. There's no telling what a mistaken move might trigger."

"Right," Ivan said. "Got it. Nice and slow..."

A quick glance at Jordan.

Both of them probably thinking the same thing.

What was the way out of this?

What would Nahara do once he learned what had happened to Kyros?

Slowly, Ivan slipped his hand in and pulled out the key to the ankle chains.

"Good. Now, walk up here and hand it to me nice and gentle."

Ivan took a quick breath. If there was going to be an opportunity, it would be coming soon.

But first- "You can give it up, Nahara," Ivan said. "Kyros is dead ... buried under that mountain. Your deal, whatever it was, is off."

"Oh? I should give up?" A laugh, low and hollow. "And what do I look forward to? A life on a prison planet? Some dismal dark rock?" He shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"You could beg for clemency."

"I don't beg!"

Ivan kept moving forward slowly while engaging Nahara.

"Do you really think I'd get it? Stealing the Star Road OS?" Nahara shook his head. "I'm not stupid."

But you are distracted, Ivan thought.

Time to turn up the agitation a notch.

Ivan stopped, paces away.

"The data crystal. That's gone, too," he said. "It's buried up there along with my brother."

Nahara's face went pale, his eyes narrowing. Ivan knew that chip would have been his bargaining chip, something he could have used anywhere in the universe.

Now-without it-what did he have?

"You're lying."

Ivan shook his head and held his hands up like he was surrendering.

"I wish I was," he said. He glanced at the others. "Ask anyone. It's gone. Like it never existed."

Nahara's eyes darted wildly from side to side.

A rat trying to chew a new escape hole.

A way out.

Ivan gave the key a little toss in the air and caught it in the palm of his hand.

"So, you can have this for all the good it'll do."

But instead of handing the key to Nahara, he threw it to him. Instinctively Nahara's free hand flew out to catch it, and- Jordan moved.

Ivan leaped forward to tackle Nahara, but the man stepped back, catching onto the game, stumbling backward.

Then, seeing Jordan reaching for his rifle, Nahara fired.

Jordan tried to dodge to the side, but the blast caught him in the shoulder, sending him spinning around to drop on the floor.

Ivan moved fast, digging around his back and pulling out his handgun as Nahara moved to aim his own pistol at him.

A race to see whose barrel would be on target first.

But Ivan moved smoothly, and his handgun came up while Nahara was still trying to get a shot off.

"Should have taken the deal," Ivan said as he fired.

The shot hit Nahara in the throat, throwing his head back in a shower of blood and shattered bone. His eyes went wide, as if surprised as they bulged out of his head.

Nahara never got his second shot off.

Eyes still wide, he looked up at Ivan, leaning over him, and tried to say something. But nothing would come out of his ruined throat.

His plans for incredible wealth and unimagined freedom ended in a widening pool of his own blood.

As if preserving the solemnity of the moment, no one moved or said a word for several seconds.

Then, the first sound.

Ruth sobbing.

Annie calling Jordan's name, hurrying to tend to his wound.

Rodriguez glued to his seat as Ivan got up and turned around.

It felt like it was over.

Whatever this journey had been about, it had-finally-come to an end. There was just one more loose end to tie up-the Runners.

He stared blankly at Ruth, sobbing, tears streaming down her face as she leaned over Jordan.

She may be out of my life, Ivan thought bitterly, but one more thing-perhaps the most important of all-is still ahead.

46.

DEPARTURES.

"Is this what you want?" Ivan shouted.

He stood on a wooden platform and stared out at the several dozens of faces that looked up to him.

Torchlights flickered, casting a rich orange glow across the crowd of Runners.

"You want to be branded murderers, hunted like animals?"

"We already are!" someone shouted, and a roar swept the crowd.

Still, Ivan couldn't get the real temperature of the gathering-his last as leader of the Runners, no matter what.

"Yes. But all we ever wanted was freedom of the Road. Now, we have it for the taking."

"They made us outlaws!"

The voice-the same one-rose up from the crowd in the brief silence. Ivan looked around, trying to see who dared interrupt him.

Is he trying to stir the mob to violence?

The voice had been familiar, but Ivan couldn't place it. Finally, the crowd parted, and a single figure, dark in silhouette, stepped forward.

Edgar Cullen.