Turn around, sir,” the man on the other side of the blast doors of Deep Echo said through the speaker. He’d stopped getting annoyed a couple of months before and just accepted that we were going to visit them every day. The warning was just procedure. No guns, no posturing.

“Do you ever leave?” Naomi asked the man on the comm. “Do you even know it’s Thanksgiving?”

“Turn around and walk, ladies,” the soldier said.

Naomi took a step closer. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Logan, ma’am. This is your last warning.”

Naomi lifted her fist and gave them the finger. “Happy holidays, assholes.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Happy holidays to you, too, Naomi.”

Naomi and I traded looks and then headed back down Echo corridor to Delta. The Complex was quiet, only a skeleton crew working the control room and security, and a couple dozen essential personnel. Our steps seemed to echo farther than usual against the metal grid that led to Delta, the water dripping from the ceiling louder, the whispers louder.

“Think they’ll ever let us back there?” Naomi asked.

“I’m more concerned at this point that those guys will never get out,” I said. “No amount of money would make that contract worth it.”

“Maybe they know too much, like that lab rat was saying.”

“Then I need to mind my fucking business. Tonight’s our first night in the new house.”

Naomi nudged me with her elbow. “What took you so long?”

“Paint. Furniture just came in. Babyproofing. We agreed to wait until it was ready before we spent our first night there. And since it’s Thanksgiving, we thought it would be a good day to move in and make it official.”

“Are you all ready? All packed up?”

“My stuff from storage was already delivered. We’ve been unpacking it. Almost done. I’m already checked out of my room. Darby’s things are still at the hotel. She has a couple of boxes, that’s it. I’m swinging by to get them before I head home.”

“We should go to McCormack’s Pub to celebrate.” When I made a face, her shoulders sagged. “C’mon. We haven’t all been out in forever.”

“Maybe.”

Naomi smiled, all her teeth showing. “I’ll tell the boys.”

“I said maybe.”

“Maybe means yes. You know it does. You have the most laid-back chick ever. She won’t care.”

“She has to work tonight, so no, she won’t care, but she does want to meet everyone,” I said. “We need to plan ahead.”

Naomi frowned. “Do you see a problem?”

“Yeah, a big one. When we’re all together, we tend to talk shop. She already has an idea. She’s sharp as a fucking tack. Misses nothing. It won’t take much to confirm her suspicions.”

“Well, maybe we’ll meet her one at a time, then.”

“Not a bad idea,” I said.

“How’s she feeling?”

I smiled. “She’s all belly. When you see her from behind, you don’t even know she’s pregnant until she turns around, and then it’s…whoa. She’s been talking about the baby pushing on her lungs and it being harder to breathe.”

Naomi shivered. “Weird.”

“She’s going to start going to the doc’s every two weeks soon, then it will be every week.”

“Have you named it yet?”

“Her. We’ve narrowed it down.”

“Sorry. Jesus. You sure have become sensitive since you’ve become someone’s dad.”

I smiled. “We actually wanted to run something by you.”

“Yes, you can name her Naomi.”

I laughed. “We went through the alphabet. Naomi didn’t make the cut for N, sorry.”

“Whaa? Which name beat me out?”

“Nina.”

She made a face. “Ick.”

“Darby wanted me to ask you if it would be okay if we named her Maddie.”

“Sure. I mean, Madison is a little overused if you ask me, but—”

“Madeleine. But she wants to call her Maddie. After Matt.”

Naomi stopped. After the initial shock wore off, her eyes glossed over. “That’s pretty cool of you guys. Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course.” She cleared her throat. “He’d be honored. We’re both…we’re both honored.”

I slapped Naomi’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“So, it’s official, then? Maddie?”

“Madeleine Rose. I think. I’m still trying to talk her into it.”

“Aw, Rose is cute.”

“It’s Darby’s middle name. She hates it.”

Naomi laughed. “Of course she does.”

We made our way to the headquarters just before lunch. Martinez and Sloan were already there, and Harbinger came in right after us. We had what was essentially an extra-large locker room with a few desks to ourselves, but it seemed extra quiet.

I stared at the door for a full minute and then turned my head toward the comm clipped to my lapel. “Trex actual to Kitsch, check in.”

The rest of the team waited, frozen in place.

“Trex actual to Kitsch,” I repeated. “Do you copy?”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Sloan said.

“I know,” I said, staring at the door and waiting for a response on the radio.

“This time of year is rough on him,” Sloan said.

“I know,” I snapped. “Trex to Kitsch. Do you copy?”

The radio crackled. “Lima Charlie, out,” Kitsch responded, signaling he’d heard me loud and clear.

We all sighed and relaxed. “We’re headed to chow and it’s comfort-food day. Get your ass in here.”

“On my way, over,” he said. The radio crackled again.

Martinez leaned back, letting his head hit his locker. None of us dared say it aloud, but holidays had us all on edge.

Kitsch was older than me by seven years. He’d married right out of high school, and they had their son, Dylan, right before he left on his first deployment. His daughter, Emily, was conceived the first week he was home. All three were killed instantly sometime during our six-hour firefight six clicks east of Fallujah when they were hit head-on by a sleeping truck driver. Kitsch refused leave to go back for the funerals. He never returned to Quincy after that, wouldn’t even step foot in the state of Massachusetts, but he carried a folded photograph he’d printed off his wife’s Facebook page all over the world. Karen, Dylan, and Emily had traveled with us to four continents and made it through a war. Kitsch talked about them like they were still alive, at home, waiting on him, and we let him. It wasn’t natural for a soldier to outlive his family.

“I invited him over tonight,” Naomi said. “I’m cooking if you guys want to stop over,” she said to Martinez and Sloan.

“Can I bring a date?” Martinez asked.

“Sure,” Naomi said. “Just make sure Kitsch comes.”

Martinez nodded once. “Will do.”

Lunch was a slice of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, cranberry salad, and apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. We had all sat down by the time Kitsch made it to the table, not mentioning that his face was red and blotchy, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. I noticed the knuckles on his right hand were skinned and bloody, his napkin soaked with crimson.

“You’re not going to flake out on me, are you, Kitsch?” Naomi asked.

“Huh?” he said, snapping out of the hell he was in. “No. I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’m picking you up. You’re my date,” Martinez said.

Kitsch nodded.

“Everyone be sure to bring liquor. We’re going out after and the bar marks up the alcohol on holidays,” Naomi said. “And we’re going out tonight.” Kitsch frowned. Naomi pointed at him. “You’re the only one who can two-step.” She pointed at his bloody hand. “You’re cleaning that shit up, then you’re taking me out, fucker.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Martinez smiled. Naomi always knew how to handle Kitsch on his down days.

“I’ll be DD,” I said.

Naomi grinned. “You’re coming?”

I nodded. “Someone has to drive you drunken losers around. I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail so you’re at work on time. I don’t like leaving Darby at home alone on Thanksgiving…”

“Bring her,” Sloan said.

I frowned. “I’m not bringing my very pregnant girlfriend to a bar. Besides, she has to be at work by eleven.”

“You guys should come by,” Naomi said.

“She’s been cooking all day.”

“So, go after,” Harbinger said. “We’re stopping by after dinner.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask Darby. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. We’ll stay until she has to go to work.”

Kitsch picked at his lunch, moving it around on his plate but never taking a bite.

“Attention!” Saunders called from the doorway.

We turned to see the general walk in. A few airmen at the other end of the cafeteria stood and saluted. We stopped eating and faced him, waiting to see what all the fuss was about. He walked over to our table. “Trexler, congratulations, your team has the rest of the day off to spend with your families, per Senator Bennett.”

“What?” Naomi said, incensed.

“Calm down, Abrams,” the general said. “The early release is for all civilian contractors.”

Naomi relaxed, putting her elbows on the table and keeping her head down.

“Enjoy your Thanksgiving meal and then collect your things for the weekend.”

“The weekend?” I asked. “What will you do for Complex security?”

“Deep Echo will take care of it. You go home, they breathe fresh air, it’s a win-win. Happy holidays.” With that, the general exited, followed by his entourage.

My team traded glances, then we wiped our mouths with our napkins and packed up. Within ten minutes, we were all leaving the parking garage in our various vehicles. I looked at the lavender-wrapped gift with a grape-purple bow sitting in the passenger seat of my truck. I’d had it for a month, waiting for the right time to give it to Darby. Thanksgiving seemed like an appropriate day.

I’d been imagining that drive to the house after work for months—since I’d found the house—pulling up in the driveway, and walking in, and Darby being the first thing I’d see. But I had to pass the turnoff to drive to the hotel. Darby’s only two boxes were behind the bar, her room cleaned and empty.

The hotel lobby seemed empty, too, without all the hotshots and forestry officials ambling around with a pint in their hands. I stood at the empty bar, thinking Stavros would show up at any moment. Instead, Lane strolled over, a smile on her face.

“Whatcha doin’ here?” she asked. “I thought tonight was your first night in the new house?”

“It is. I’m picking up Darby’s boxes. They’re supposed to be behind the bar.”

Lane leaned over, shamelessly sticking her ass out. I looked away once I realized what she was doing.

“Nope. No boxes. I think Stavros moved them so they wouldn’t get wet.”

“Damn,” I said under my breath.

“I could help you look for them.” She lifted her arms and gestured to the lobby. “As you can see, I’m not busy. I’ll get a key to her old room and see if Stavros put them there.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

She chuckled. “It’s Thanksgiving. He hasn’t been in all day.”

“Okay, well, yeah. We should probably look in her room first.”

I followed Lane to the front desk and waited while she coded a card key, and then we walked together down the hall. Lane touched the card to the black box, the lock clicked, and she pushed down on the lever. I flipped on the light, following her into the main area.

“No boxes,” she said. “Are they big? Are they small enough to fit under the bed?” She bent down again, and again, I looked away. “Nothing.” She sat on the mattress, bouncing. “This is as uncomfortable as I remember. Hard to believe you two lived here for so many months.”

“Maybe they’re in the back room,” I said, pointing behind me.

Lane placed her palms flat on the mattress and leaned back. She wasn’t as voluptuous as Darby, but the buttons on her shirt still held on for dear life. “I bet you two used the hell out of this mattress. I remember using the hell out of yours. I was hoping when I took this job that we could, you know, pick up where we left off. I didn’t know you were with Darby.”

“Speaking of Darby, we should go, Lane. I have to get back. She’s waiting on me.”

Lane rolled her eyes and stood. I turned for the door and felt Lane’s arms slide around my middle. No way was I going out into the hall like that, so instead of reaching for the door, I grabbed her wrists and peeled her off me.

“Lane, knock it off,” I said with the same tone I used with my team.

She wasn’t intimidated, instead leaning in and tilting her head.

I took a step back, my hands still on her wrists. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She blew out a laugh. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because I’m in love with Darby, and you’re trying to hurt her.”

“The only thing I’m trying to do is you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I stopped texting you and calling you months before Darby, and then I blocked your number. Why would you think there are any residual feelings? You’re delusional.”

“Because I see you staring at me, Trex. You can pretend to be the good guy to Darby, but I know better. That can only play out for so long.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know you don’t fuck her the way you fucked me.”

“That’s because I don’t fuck her. I make love to her. Stay away from me.”

She laughed, and I let go of her wrists, reaching behind me for the lever. I opened the door and backed out. Lane followed me, step for step and far too close. When the door closed behind her, I noticed someone standing in my peripheral.

I took another step back, and this time Lane stayed in place.

“Hey, Ander,” I said.

“Hey,” he replied, his brows pulled together. His eyes danced back and forth from me to Lane and then back to me.

“We were looking for Darby’s boxes,” I said.

“He was looking really hard,” Lane said. “Everywhere.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lane,” I said, disgusted. She was hoping Ander would tell Darby, or at the very least tell Stavros. Everyone knew Stavros couldn’t keep a secret.

Ander pointed behind him. “They’re in the back, next to the fridge. Stavros didn’t want them getting wet in the bar area. Darby has books in there.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking a step, pausing to point at Lane. “She’s a fucking psycho.”

“I know,” Ander said as I passed him.

I rushed to the back, stacked the boxes, and carried them out to my truck, putting them in the back seat. I drove fifteen miles over the speed limit to the house, racing to get home before Darby heard what had happened before I could tell her.

I pulled into the drive, slammed the gear into Park, left the boxes, grabbed the gift, and jogged into the house.

Darby was standing at the stove, turning quickly when I walked in, startled. She held her hand to her chest, her eyes wide. When she recognized me, she relaxed. “Oh, hey.”

I closed the door behind me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you this early. Did you get my boxes?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they’re in the truck.” I pointed behind me.

The dark hardwood floors were spotless, the beige carpet freshly vacuumed, a medley of new smells in the air—wood stain, paint, upholstery, and whatever amazingness Darby was cooking. I hadn’t thought about that bonus when I fell in love with a girl from the south. I was standing in my dream home with my dream girl across the room, about to ruin our first fucking day because of that idiot at the hotel.

Her eyes glistened more than the chandelier hanging over the dining table as she waddled toward me, stirring spoon in hand. She kissed me quick, then waddled back. “Stirring pie filling! Sorry!”

I followed her into the kitchen, trying not to laugh. Her shirt was tight, cream and berry horizontal stripes stretching across Maddie’s perfect dome.

“Uh, I need to talk to you about something,” I said, setting the gift on the counter.

“What’s this?” she asked, picking it up. “For me?”

I nodded, and she tore into it, gasping at its contents. “What did you do?”

“You need a cell phone, Darby. What if you go into labor while I’m at work?”

She picked it up out of the box. “What’s my number?”

I tapped on the screen, showing her where to find it.

“It’s not in my name, right?” she said, looking at the screen with wide, curious eyes.

“I do know how to keep you safe. I was a federal agent once.” She looked up at me, and I winked.

She threw her arms around me, kissing my cheek. Something poked at me, something that wasn’t Darby, and I looked down. She put the phone on the counter and held her middle with both hands, giggling.

I got on my knees, palming each side of her belly. “Listen here, missy. You don’t kick your dad.”

Darby pulled up her shirt, and a small round something protruded from her belly just enough for me to see.

I leaned back, then looked up at Darby. “Holy shit.”

“I know. Looks like an alien is inside me. She was rolling around today. Woke me up.”

I gently pressed on the knob, and she pushed back. “Maddie Rose, you’re grounded,” I teased.

“Naomi said it was okay?” Darby asked.

I stood, keeping my fingers on Maddie’s elbow, or knee, or whatever part of her was bulging from the rest of Darby’s otherwise smooth baby bump. “Naomi said she’d be honored.”

The knob disappeared to rise again, this time in a different spot. I laughed. “Is she playing hide and seek?”

“I think so,” Darby said, giggling again.

Darby’s innie belly button was almost an outie, a dark line now spanning from her belly button to her pelvic bone, and her cheeks were a tiny bit fuller than before, but other than that and her hair growing at least three inches longer and thicker from the prenatal vitamins, there were no differences.

“So,” I began.

“Shit!” Darby said, turning to stir the pie filling.

“Baby, I really need to talk to you about something.”

“Uh-huh…” she said, stirring.

“When I went to get your boxes…”

“Was Stavros there?”

“No,” I said with a sigh, “Lane was.”

“Yeah, she asked me to work her shift,” she said, making a face.

“Darby…your boxes weren’t behind the bar. I went with Lane back to your old room to see if they were in there. She…Jesus Christ…”

Darby stopped stirring and looked at me with an expression that broke my heart. “She what?”

I hesitated. Ruining our official move-in day and our first Thanksgiving was already pissing me off. I had no idea how she would react or if she’d be upset, and the thought of her crying made me lose the will to tell her.

“They were in the back, next to the fridge,” I said. “Stavros was afraid they’d get wet by the bar.”

Darby arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

I cringed. If I told her, it would ruin Thanksgiving; if I waited, she could find out from someone else. It was going to suck either way. “Lane came on to me, but nothing happened.”

Darby’s face fell, and she turned to stir again. “Bitch,” she grumbled. “What did happen?”

“She coded a card key for your room and took me back there to look. She tried to kiss me. Literally threw herself at me.”

She stopped stirring. “Did you kiss her?”

“No,” I said, disgusted. Darby stirred again. “I started to leave and she wrapped her arms around me. I peeled her off me and walked out backwards. She followed me, super close. Ander was in the hallway. He saw us walk out. It looked bad, Darby. I admit, it looked really bad, but I swear nothing happened.”

She was quiet. So quiet that it scared the shit out of me, but I waited, letting her process what I’d just told her.

“She’s gorgeous,” she said, quiet. “And not pregnant.”

I slipped my arms around her, kissing her neck. “I’m not in love with her. I don’t care what she is. And she’s not totally unfortunate looking, but she’s a psychopath.”

Darby breathed out a laugh. “She’s something.” She shook her head. “Not going to let her ruin today. I’ll deal with her later.”

“Don’t worry about her. She’s nothing.”

“True.”

I squeezed her gently, touching my lips to her cheek. She leaned into my kiss, reminding me of the first time I kissed her in the hotel lobby. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then. Now we had a house together, a baby on the way, and I had everything I’d ever wanted, which was scary as fuck, because when I had nothing, I had nothing to lose.

“How was work?” she asked, still stirring. The pudding had just begun to bubble.

“It’s our first night in the new house, and our first Thanksgiving, so say no if you want…but Naomi is having everyone over for post-dinner drinks.”

She smiled. “That sounds fun.”

“She also wants to go out after. I volunteered to be the DD.”

“I have to work,” she said, frowning. “How am I going to cross paths with Lane and not slap her? I can’t believe she tried to kiss you! What a whore!”

“Babe,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t get all worked up over her. Not worth it.”

“You’re worth it,” she grumbled.

“Aw. Are you wanting to defend my honor? Because that’s kind of badass.”

She tried not to smile, but failed.

“I can walk you in, give you a big ole kiss, and reestablish who belongs to who,” I said. I held up her phone. “Then I’ll blow this up the first ten minutes.”

Darby shook her head. “Then she’ll think you came in to see her. She’s about that delusional.”

“No shit,” I said.

Darby turned off the stove and the oven, and I opened the door, pulling out the turkey while she set the table. She watched me carve the turkey with the brand-new electric knife I’d bought from Target the week before, and then we brought all the dishes to the table.

“Is it all right if I pray?” Darby asked.

“Of course.”

She held both of my hands on the table and closed her eyes. I watched her with a smile.

“Heavenly Father,” she began, “please bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. I thank you for this beautiful new house, for the health of Maddie, and for the many blessings you’ve brought to my life. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for your sacrifice so that we might have eternal life together with you, and thank you for Trex. I know only you could have blessed me with someone so kind, so loving, and so faithful. In your precious name I pray, amen.”

“Amen,” I said.

Her eyes popped open, and she smiled. “I almost prayed for Lane. But it’s Thanksgiving, and I’m just not thankful for her.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Darby was serious, but her trying to be hateful was too damn cute. We talked about her day and her upcoming doctor’s appointment, and I tried to enjoy the food instead of inhaling it. It was so damn good. I’d had only a handful of home-cooked meals in over a year, but it was just one more thing Darby was amazing at.

We filled the quietness of the large home around us with our laughter and made the darkness our own with candles. It was the most intimate, wonderful Thanksgiving I’d ever had, and I knew the next year would just be better.

I cleaned the kitchen while Darby got ready for work, and then I drove her to Naomi’s townhouse. Several cars were parked in the street, but I didn’t recognize all of them. They left a space in the drive for us, but before we even made it to the porch, half the team was outside making a scene.

“They’re already drunk,” I said.

“Good,” Darby said with a smile.

I kept hold of her arm while she carried a pecan pie across the yard. It was dark, it was unfamiliar terrain, and I didn’t want her to fall.

“Thank you,” Naomi said, taking the pie.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” Sloan said, hugging Darby.

“Hayden Sloan,” I said. “Meet Darby”—I gestured to her round middle—“and Maddie.”

“Darby!” Martinez said, hugging her.

“Othello Martinez,” I said.

“Just O,” Martinez said, stepping aside. “Or Martinez. Whatever.”

I pointed at the rest. “And Terrell Kitsch.”

Kitsch just waved.

“John and his family are inside,” Naomi said. “Come on in!”

We led the way, and John stood to greet us.

“John and Caroline Harbinger,” I said. “Their boys, Henry and Miles.”

John shook her hand, Caroline hugged her. It was amusing to watch everyone who went in for a hug bend over to reach her shoulders.

It didn’t take me long to figure out who belonged to the car and truck I didn’t recognize. Zeke and Watts were sitting at the oval table, a bottle of beer in their hands. Senator Bennett was in the living room, watching the sports news on the earlier football game. Zeke stood, making his way over to Darby. He kissed her cheek, and I felt the blood under my cheeks boil. I glanced at Naomi, and she winked at me, clearly privy to some intel I didn’t have.

“Trexler,” Zeke said, reaching for my hand. “Congrats on the new house. That’s awesome.”

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t realize I had a hand on Darby’s belly until she rested her hand over mine.

“Trex?” Darby said. “I need to sit.”

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, just need to rest, I think,” she said, rubbing her stomach.

I led her by the hand to the table, pulling out a chair.

“T-Rex! You’ve turned into a regular gentleman!” Martinez said, slapping my back.

Caroline brought her an ice water.

“Thank you,” Darby said.

Zeke whispered something in Naomi’s ear and then walked down the hall to the bathroom. Watts tried to hand me a bottle of beer, but I declined. “I’m the designated driver tonight.”

“You going out with us?” he asked. He was already a few drinks in, relaxed and happy.

“After I drop Darby off at work, if she’s feeling better,” I said, looking at her.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You still working nights, Darby?” Watts asked.

“Yep,” she said. “What have you been up to?”

“Traveling, mostly. One of the guys has a house in Mexico on the beach. I’ve been spending a lot of time down there. Is that Laney girl still working afternoons?”

Darby’s smile was strained when she looked at me to answer. “Lane? Yep.”

“Uh-oh,” Naomi said, handing me a glass of water. “What’s that about?”

“Thanks. I went there tonight after we were released to get Darby’s boxes,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Crazy bitch tried to fuck me in Darby’s old room.”

“What?” Naomi said, trying to keep her voice down. “Does Darby know?”

“Yeah, I told her when I got back. She’s pissed, but not at me.”

“Makes for an awkward shift transition. Glad you told her. Way to avoid a stupid misunderstanding.”

“I almost didn’t. I was scared shitless it was going to ruin our first night at the house.”

“Well, looky there. You have a reasonable girlfriend. Congratulations.” Naomi clicked her beer bottle to my glass, and we both drank.

“Told you she was worth waiting for,” I said.

“You still believe that shit? You think she’s the one, huh?”

Darby laughed and chatted with Caroline and my team, my past mixing with my future, something I never imagined.

“Without a single doubt,” I said, taking another drink. My phone pinged, and I checked it. Val had texted me just four words.

“Fuck,” I said, putting my phone away.

“What?” Naomi asked, instantly on edge.

Kitsch came inside from the porch. “Nomes. You got a flashlight?”

“Just in every room of the house,” she teased.

Kitsch wasn’t amused. “I need the closest one.”

“In the kitchen. Drawer to the left of the dishwasher.”

Kitsch went to the kitchen, rummaged around for a second, and returned, rushing past. “It’s to the right of the dishwasher,” he said.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

Kitsch pushed through the screen door, pointing his flashlight at the ground.

“What is he doing?” Naomi asked.

“Boss,” Kitsch called from outside.

Naomi and I made the same face, then I followed Kitsch to the front porch. He stood at the top of the stairs, nodding to the yard. The flashlight highlighted a mound of dead rabbits.

“What the hell?” Naomi said, grabbing the flashlight from Kitsch. She followed the carcasses with the light. She handed it to me, then rushed inside.

“What’s going on?” Martinez asked, stopping when he saw the pile.

Naomi returned, a half dozen flashlights in her arms, including a headlamp. Sloan and Harbinger came out, and she handed them to everyone on our team. We each turned on a flashlight and pointed it in the same direction.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” Harbinger asked.

Zeke and Watts came out, talking and laughing, but silenced the moment they recognized what was out in the yard.

“That wasn’t there ten minutes ago when we came outside for Watts to smoke,” Zeke said. “Is someone…is someone playing a sick joke?”

“It’s more than one person. One guy couldn’t do all of that in the amount of time he had,” Naomi said, shining her headlamp at the carcasses.

“Agreed,” Harbinger said.

The screen door opened one more time, and I turned to make sure it wasn’t Darby. The senator brought out a bottle of beer, recoiling at the mess in the yard. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” I said, glowering.

We peered out over the rabbit carcasses lying in the dead grass, lit up with six heavy-duty flashlights, forming just one word: MINE.