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Major couldn't stop thinking about Fillmore Graves' message to Renegade. Liv would do it—she would absolutely turn herself in to Chase Graves in exchange for her coyote. And in the mood he was in, confronted with Liv, of all people, as his bitterest enemy, Chase Graves would have her executed. That was, if he didn't shoot her between the eyes the moment she walked in the door.

With the image of Captain Seattle—Fisher Webb, he reminded himself—fresh in his mind, Major could see the bullet hole in Liv's forehead all too clearly, all the life gone from her admittedly undead face. He couldn't take it. Everything else he could find a way to handle, but not that.

The problem was, he didn't know how to stop her. If Liv wanted to turn herself in, she was going to do it, and no one would keep her from it. Unless … unless she wasn't here. Major suddenly remembered some paperwork that had landed on his desk about a safe house in the middle of Oregon. A married couple had been staffing the place, but apparently had gone AWOL. He was supposed to assign someone to go check it out and see what had happened. Might as well go himself, he thought. And take Liv with him. Far from Seattle, where no one would be able to find her.

But how to keep her there? Liv in Oregon would be just as determined to find a way to get back to Seattle and turn herself in. The only answer, Major decided, was that she couldn't be Liv once she got there.

He packed a bag and also dug the remnants of his Max Rager zombie kidnapping kit out of the back of his closet, glad he had thought to keep it. The trank gun would come in handy. Jordan watched him from the bed, but didn't ask. Not until he picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"You going somewhere?"

"Uh … yeah. Would you mind giving a message to Ravi for me?"

"I guess so. I wondered if you were going to tell me what was up."

"Yeah. Sorry. Just … trying to get it all straight in my head. Just—tell Ravi I'm taking Liv out of Seattle to keep her from surrendering to Chase Graves."

Jordan frowned. "Surrendering? Who is your ex-fiance going to surrender to?"

"Oh. Right. So … Liv is Renegade."

"She's what?!" Jordan sat up straight. "How long have you known?"

"Not long."

"Uh-huh."

"Look, just give him the message, all right?"

"Major. You coming back?"

He nodded. "After Curtis's execution, when it's too late for her to surrender." He wasn't sure he meant it, though.

Jordan seemed to follow the subtext. "Well … if you don't … thanks."

"Good luck, Jordan."

"Yeah, you, too." She put her headphones over her ears and sank back against the pillows. She'd be fine, Major told himself, hurrying down the stairs. She'd be just fine.

His next stop was the Scratching Post.

"Major! Just the party-pooper I didn't want to see," Don E exclaimed as he came in. "Seriously, you know how much money I lost when your boss raged out and started shooting people?"

Biting back his sharp retort about the relative importance of Don E's money and Fisher Webb's life, Major shook his head. "It's a real shame."

"You can say that again. Now, what can I get you?"

"Menu, please." He scanned the available brain options, landing on a pair about halfway down the page—a married couple who had died together in a car accident after fifty happy years. Major couldn't help but smile, thinking of it. The way it always should have been—him and Liv, happy together. "I'll take these."

"Good choice! Who's the lucky lady?"

Major wasn't about to tell Don E about his plans. "I think I'll take them both, and really just … love myself."

Don E looked at him sideways. "You do you, Majey-Maje."

But he got him the brains, which was all that mattered. Major made sure he labeled which one was the husband and which the wife carefully. He took them home, as quietly as possible used the food processor to turn them into mush, packed them into brain tubes, tucked the labeled tubes into his bag, and made the long-familiar drive to Liv's apartment.

He had waited until late enough that he could sneak out of the city without being detected, but all the way to her place he worried that he had waited too long, that he would get there and she would already be gone. In her hallway, standing outside her door, he wished he still had a key, a way to get in without waking Peyton or anyone else who might be there. Liv wouldn't be happy to see him, not after the way they had left things.

Then the doorknob began to turn, the door quietly opening just enough for Liv to back out into the hall. Major's heart started beating again, relief flooding him. He wasn't too late. He was just in time. This was going to work—they would go away, they would be together, and she would be safe.

Liv closed the door and turned around, and froze in her tracks when she saw him standing there. "Major."

"I was just working up the courage to knock. I should've listened to you," he admitted. "You were right about Chase. You were right about everything. And now, you're turning yourself in to save Curtis."

"You're not going to talk me out of this." She was in full Liv-on-a-mission mode, sure of herself and what she was doing. She was right again—he wouldn't have a chance if what he had come to do was talk.

He nodded. "I know. But I … I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted us to part on good terms." He held his arms out, and after a moment's hesitation, Liv came into them, her arms around his neck. And Major, with all the ease of practice, took the trank gun out of his pocket and shot her up with the sedative before she knew what was happening.

He caught her as she sagged against him, lifting her over his shoulder, and carried her to the car, where he deposited her in the trunk in the most comfortable position he could manage.

Then he climbed behind the wheel, took a sip of coffee from his thermos, and began the long drive to safety.