“You’re dead,” Lobo whispered.

The sound was still almost polite.

Then Kael stood, tucked the pistol into his belt, and limped out into the Matamoros dawn. The rain was finally gone.

They dragged Kael by the zip-ties. The plastic cut deeper, but Kael didn’t feel that either.

Lobo handed the gun to his man. “Dump him in the usual ravine.”

Toward the second pistol.