Chapter 51
VI
The corridor opens into a small alcove half hidden behind a rusted electrical panel. Rogue stops, leans one shoulder against the wall, and finally looks at me. Mask gone. Just his face, sharp cheekbones, dark eyes that seem to catch every flicker of light and hold it.
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. Just watches. “Sit,” he says, nodding to a low crate pushed against the wall.
I don’t sit. I lean instead, arms crossed, back to the cold metal. My knee throbs from the walk, but I lock it straight. I’m tired of showing weakness.
“You brought me here to talk,” I say. “So talk.”
He exhales through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. “You’re not wrong. But you’re not going to like it.”
“Try me.”
He studies me for another beat, then pushes off the wall and steps closer. Not crowding. Just close enough that I can smell the faint leather of his coat and the clean sweat underneath.
“Being brought into the Skylight Room, and getting your own place, changes things,” he starts. Quiet. Measured. “You’re no longer just another Runt sorting crates and keeping your head down.”
I swallow. “I figured that out when Armen pinned a guy’s arm to a gate for touching my wrist.”
Rogue’s mouth quirks, just one corner. “That was the public version. This is the private one.”
He gestures vaguely upward, toward the invisible ceiling and the room high above us.
“That space isn’t just a hideout. It’s ours.
The three of us. No one else gets in. Ever.
The moment you stepped through that door, you stopped being background.
You know this but I want to make sure you really understand.
You became leverage. A prize. A weakness someone could use against us, or a weapon we could use against them. ”
“So I’m a bargaining chip?”
“No.” His voice hardens. “You’re protected. But protection comes with a target on your back. You know that. Powerful Rotters, ones who don’t answer to Armen, Sting, or me, will either want to control you or get rid of you to get to us. There’s no middle ground anymore.”
I feel the air go thin. “And if they try?”
“Then we stop them.” He says it simply. Like it’s already decided. “But stopping them means blood. Means alliances shift. Means the Rot gets louder around you, not quieter.”
I look away, staring at the flickering bulb until spots dance in my vision. “I came for the Favor. To force answers about my father. To make someone pay for what happened to him.”
Rogue goes still.
When I look back, his expression hasn’t changed, but something in his eyes has. Guarded. Careful.
“That road,” he says slowly, “is closed, Vi. You know that.”
My heart kicks hard. “You keep saying that. All of you. Like it’s a rule.”
“It’s not a rule. It’s reality.” He steps closer, still not touching, but the space between us feels smaller.
“Digging into what happened to your father doesn’t get you justice.
It gets you disappeared. The people who brought Rothwell down didn’t vanish when the lights went out.
They just went quiet. And they stay quiet by making sure no one asks questions.
They don’t give a shit about us. Never did. ”
I feel the words land like a slap. “You know who they are.”
“I know enough.” His voice drops. “And I know what happens when someone starts pulling threads. Your father pulled. Look where it got him.”
I push off the crate, stepping into his space now. “So you’re telling me to stop? To just… accept that I’m stuck here forever and the truth dies with him?”
Rogue doesn’t back up. He meets my eyes, steady, unblinking.
“I’m telling you, the only way you stay breathing long enough to matter is if you use what you have now.
” He lifts a hand, slow, and brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers linger against my cheek. “You’re not invisible anymore.
You’re seen. That’s dangerous. But it’s also power.
Leverage. If you want answers, you get them by being indispensable. By being ours. Not by chasing ghosts.”
My pulse is everywhere. Anger. Grief. Something hotter underneath.
“And if I don’t want to be yours?” I whisper.
He leans in, mouth close to my ear. “You already are. You know that.”
The words should terrify me. They don’t.
They burn.