One Last Job
DAWN
If you can’t find love, take a lover.
If you can’t find a lover, have a drink.
One night isn’t forever,
But it’s longer than you’d think.
DRINKING SONG, VALTA, ORIGIN UNKNOWN
Dawn had been pacing since firstlight, muttering at the walls. She kept running her hands through her short hair, and the pink ends were sticking in all directions.
“Don’t join the expedition. Lore is using you.” Too direct. Talia would ask questions that Dawn couldn’t answer.
“The ruins are dangerous. You’re not ready.” The girl would dig in her heels at that, just to prove her wrong.
“I was wrong about him.” Dawn would look foolish for bringing her to Lore in the first place.
She checked her revolvers for the third time. Still loaded.
Years mourning Ehrue. Years of Lore’s promises. And now—when Valrotala was finally in reach—her damned conscience decided to bite her. It was infuriating.
After she slept off the honey wine, she went straight to Riven. Told him what Lore had said. When he calmed down, they went to warn Talia together. But by then she’d stepped out for the evening. After that, it was too late.
Dawn didn’t know what it was Lore said, but Talia spent a full day locked in her room. When she came out, she wouldn’t say shit. Riven tried to talk to her. That didn’t go great. The girl went silent on him. That was days ago.
Selfish bitch. You sold out a kid for the smallest chance of getting your mate back. Lore played you.
Dawn wasn’t giving up on Ehrue. She would never. But she could change how this worked. Warn Talia. Confront Lore. Set new terms. He needed her. Dawn was the only one who knew what they’d face in those ruins. She’d been to Valrotala. He hadn’t.
She buckled on her gun belt and stepped out into the afternoon sun, her boots clicking on the rickety staircase. She meant to find a drink. Then she’d talk to Talia.
The fucker was waiting for her.
Lore leaned against a building just across the street. Bastard never left Starfall. What was he doing here? He smiled and walked over.
“Dawn. Perfect timing.” He pulled a folded note from his coat. “I need you to handle something for me tonight.”
He never delivered assignments himself. She came to him, or he sent someone. She took the note and unfolded it.
Riven Valros
Pentarchy agent. Freight yard, after curfew bell tonight.
What the fuck? She looked up. “This man isn’t Pentarchy.”
“He is turning over information tonight. That must not happen.” Lore said it like a fact.
“I know him.” This has to be wrong. Lore is out of his mind.
“The garrison will be issuing a warrant for Talent’s arrest later today,” Lore added. “Riven Valros is reporting to them.”
She didn’t trust Lore, but when he twisted the truth, it was always subtle. Not like this.
He squinted at her, suspicious now. She might complain, but she never pushed back on assignments. “He is a threat to you and your friends,” he said.
“I’ll handle it.”
“Good.” He started to turn away, then paused. “Come by Starfall before midnight. After this is taken care of. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Yes, we do. Because I’m gonna warn the girl. Tell her what you really are.”
Lore chuckled, then broke into a full-on laugh.
“Are you?” His smile was almost fond. “Well. We’ll talk about that tonight. Things are moving faster than I planned.”
He turned and walked into the crowd before she could say anything back. Dawn stood in the street. She crushed the note in her fist.
Riven working for the Pentarchy? That didn’t add up. He said he’d made one report to Talia’s family and that he’d stop. He would never knowingly hurt Talia. There had to be more to the story.
Fuck.
Her pulse spiked. She needed to blow off steam.
She found herself walking to Ruby’s before she realized where she was going.
Ruby answered the door in her undershirt, her wild red hair undone.
The room was bright, porcelain figures on every shelf.
Boots, spurs, hats. Lived in. Dawn had never stayed anywhere long enough to collect things like that.
“Hey, babe.” She read something in Dawn’s face and stepped aside.
Dawn pulled Ruby in hard, and she kissed back, hands sliding under Dawn’s coat, pushing it off her shoulders. Dawn needed the simplicity of this—skin, breath, teeth, an easy now that took her mind off. Ruby worked with wild horses. She got it. Walking backward, she pulled Dawn onto the bed.
Dawn fucked her hard and fast. Ruby took it slower, forcing Dawn’s focus down—steady rhythm, teasing, building.
After, Dawn lay staring at the ceiling, Ruby’s head on her shoulder. Early lowsun light slanted through the window, dust hanging in the sunbeams.
“You going to tell me what that was about?” Ruby’s voice was soft against her collarbone.
She forced out a rough laugh. “Complaining?”
Ruby growled and bit her ear. “Avoiding the question?”
“Lore gave me an assignment.” Dawn forced the words out. “It’s Riven.” That isn’t even his fucking name.
Ruby was quiet, fingers tracing patterns on Dawn’s ribs.
“Lore said he’s an informant. That he turned Talia in.” Dawn scrubbed both hands over her face.
“Would he do that?”
“I don’t fucking know.” Dawn’s voice cracked.
She pressed the back of her skull into the headboard and closed her eyes. Dawn didn’t like intrigue. She liked killing and fucking and drinking.
“I saw him this morning,” Ruby said. “Coming out of the garrison.”
“Riven was at the garrison?” Dawn sat up straight.
“No, the prophet. Real early. He was chatting with some enforcers. He looked like a normal person.”
That was a shock, and she didn’t like it. She rolled out of the bed and started tugging on her pants. Threw a flannel shirt over her head, closed the buttons impatiently.
Ruby watched her dress. “Fuck and run?”
“Looks that way.” Dawn paused to buckle her gun belt. “We should do this again. It was nice.” She leaned back over the bed for a kiss.
Ruby chuckled into her mouth. “Just don’t get yourself killed, asshole.”
Dawn pulled away, but she paused at the door. She liked this one. A lot. Something told her she wouldn’t be back here.
She stepped back into the street, the sun lower now. Hours until nightfall. Until she was supposed to meet her oldest friend at the freight yard.
She drifted back toward the main drag. Hours left to kill. Might as well get that drink.
She was closing out her tab at the Broken Wheel when the curfew bell rang. It was later than she’d planned. Fuck, she might miss the meeting. One last job. Her terms this time.