Oliver’s POV

The muzzle of Maeve’s pistol gleamed in the dim light. A Beretta 92FS, old but reliable—standard issue back in the war when rogues were stockpiling weapons. Twelve rounds max. I doubt she had reload once since that night she shot Luke, which meant there couldn’t have been more than six or seven left.

I felt Henry’s thoughts brushing against mine through the bond we had honed over centuries. He didn’t need words; the way his shoulders shifted told me he’d already read ...