Chapter 64
VI
The work hub feels different the day after the fight.
I’m at my station, sorting supplies, trying to keep my hands steady. I pick up a gauze packet, check seal, set in bin, chalk mark on crate. Mechanical. Safe.
But I feel eyes on me.
Not hostile. Not even curious anymore. Just... aware. Like everyone’s recalibrated around me. Whispers start when I pass, low, quick, cutting off when I turn my head. I catch fragments.
“...saw Sting break that guy’s arm...”
“...bound to all three now, for real...”
“...untouchable...”
The last word comes from a Rotter near the water station. He doesn’t look at me when he says it. Just mutters it to his neighbor like it’s fact.
Untouchable.
The word sits strange in my chest. Not comfort. Not pride. Just... recognition. I survived yesterday because of them. Because Armen, Sting, and Rogue decided I was worth bleeding for. Worth breaking bones for. Worth the risk. And now, everyone knows it.
I finish my current crate, wipe my hands on my jeans, and reach for another. My fingers are still shaking slightly. I clench them to stop. Movement in my peripheral vision.
The older woman with the shaved head is walking toward me. Slow. Deliberate. She stops at my table, sets down a crate of bandages like she’s just delivering supplies.
But her eyes meet mine. She leans in slightly, voice dropping.
“When you’re ready to know more about your father, find me.”
My breath catches. “Where—”
“Not here.” Her gaze flicks to the nearest Rotters, then back to me. “Not now. But when you’re ready.” She straightens, picks up the empty crate. “Think about it.”
Then she’s gone, disappearing back into the flow of workers.
I stand there, pulse hammering, staring at the spot where she stood.
My father.
The older woman knows something. She said as much yesterday. He wasn’t what they think. He tried to expose the town crooks. He left evidence.
I want to follow her. Demand answers. Find out what she knows. But I don’t. Because I remember Armen’s voice in the ledger room: Digging gets people killed. I remember Sting’s warning: Drop it. I remember Rogue’s hand on my shoulder: Let it go.
I exhale slowly and go back to sorting supplies.
Not today. But soon.