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Jacob’s voice cuts across the court. “ ‘Let them go.’ ”

The crowd murmurs. A few people laugh until Lyla shifts her rifle from Bryant to them, slow and deliberate. The laughter dies.

Bryant tilts his head. “Is that how this works? You point a few guns at my people and make demands?”

I sign again.

Jacob translates, colder this time. “ ‘Let them go now.’ ”

Bryant smiles. “You do realize there are more of us than you, right?”

The sound of guns cocking follows.

Lyla raises her voice from the upper level. “True. But we have C-4 ready to blast this place to shit.”

The mall goes silent.

Bryant’s smile thins. Lyla doesn’t move. Her rifle stays trained on him. Joanie grins, waiting for someone to say the magic word. Trish keeps her focus on my girls. Carlos shifts near the column, jaw tight, eyes cutting over the crowd for anyone stupid enough to test the threat.

Bryant glances around. At the second floor. At the exits. At the people who call him leader and are suddenly deciding if loyalty matters when explosives enter the conversation. Somewhere near the dead escalator, someone whispers, “C-4?” like the word itself might catch fire.

Then Bryant looks back at me. “You do realize you would all die too, right?”

I shrug.

The movement sends a ripple through the crowd.

I sign again.

Jacob’s voice drops. “ ‘Yes. But you would be dead, and I have a feeling you care very much about staying alive, considering you eat people.’ ”

A few of Bryant’s followers shift away from him.

Interesting.

Bryant notices. His smile returns, slow and sharp.

“Fair point.”

He looks me over, calculation moving across his face. He doesn’t want a shootout. He doesn’t want explosives. He doesn’t want to lose control in front of his flock of starving monsters. But he also doesn’t want to look afraid.

Men like him would rather drown everyone than admit the water is rising.

“Let’s make a deal,” Bryant says.

Jacob mutters beside me, “I hate deals with cannibals. Feels like a bad life policy.”

I don’t look away from Bryant.

He spreads his hands. “You fight anyone here. You win, your people leave. All of them.” His gaze slides to Clair and Poppy. “The woman. The child. Your friends.”

Clair sways once before she catches herself, and my heart tries to rip itself loose.

Don’t move, baby. Please don’t move.

Bryant’s attention returns to me. His smile widens. “If you lose . . .”

He looks me up and down. My skin crawls.