Chapter 50
VI
This service tunnel smells forgotten. The walls are close enough that my shoulders almost brush them on both sides, and the only light comes from a string of bare bulbs dangling from frayed overhead cords. Every few steps one flickers, throwing my shadow long and jagged against the concrete.
Rogue walks ahead of me, slow, deliberate. He hasn’t said a word since he pulled me away from the sorting tables with nothing more than a tilt of his head and, “Come.”
I followed. What else would I do?
But the question that’s been circling my head for days finally pushes its way out.
I take a breath. “Sting said someone came looking for me. A few days ago. From outside.”
He slows. Just a fraction. “He did,” Rogue says.
“Has anyone come back?” I press. “Do you know who it was?”
Rogue stops now, turning to face me. His expression is unreadable in the dim light. “Why are you asking?”
“Because no one’s mentioned it since,” I say. “And I don’t know if that means it’s handled or if you’re just not telling me.”
He studies me for a long moment. Then: “It’s handled.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
“If someone’s looking for me, I should know who—”
“Drop it, Vi.” His voice isn’t loud, but it’s final. “We’re managing it. You don’t need to know more than that.”
I want to push. Want to demand answers. But the look in his eyes stops me.
He’s not shutting me down because he doesn’t care. He’s shutting me down because whatever’s happening with the outsider is dangerous enough that he doesn’t want me involved.
Or maybe he just doesn’t trust me with the truth yet.
Either way, I swallow the rest of my questions and nod once. “Fine.”
“Good.” He turns and keeps walking.
I follow, but the unease sits heavy in my chest.
Something’s happening. Something they’re not telling me.