Chapter 19
VI
Twenty minutes later in the skylight room, I’m standing and the guys are sitting, like we’re in a conference room somewhere and I’m making them a big pitch. Which, I kind of am. It’s a change from how things usually are, and while nobody says anything, I know not to push things too hard.
I know not to. But that doesn’t mean I won’t. They need to understand how fucking serious I am, even if I’m stepping out of line. When all is said and done, I’m still just a Runt, and I have pretty much zero authority over anything, including myself.
So I make my case to the guys, step by step, starting with explaining that Alice has more of Dad’s documents hidden in a bad part of the Rot, in a sealed-off department store. All I have to say is No Man’s Land, and the guys exchange looks. They know what that means, certainly better than I do.
They know the risks of venturing there, and they’re weighing whether learning about my father is worth the danger.
While I think it is, of course, I can only guess what kind of hell that section of the Rot has become over the years.
I mean, this part of it, that we currently inhabit, is hardly a picnic.
Who the hell knows what lies on the other side.
Are the people who wander there, who don’t belong, at risk of being jumped? Or worse?
I don’t even want to know how Alice got Dad’s stuff there, and what she had to go through to do it.
I explain what’s at stake. The papers we’ve seen are a partial picture.
They show Dad flagging corruption and show him being ignored.
But they’re incomplete. They stop before the story ends.
Whatever Alice has could be the rest, the part that connects the names to the money and decisions that turned Rothwell into what it is now.
I tell them the risks so they know I understand, without minimizing or softening anything. We’re looking at contested territory, where there’s no authority, and the possibility of confrontation.
“On top of that, there’s the real chance that we go in there and find nothing, or find something that doesn’t help. I just want you to know I understand all this,” I tell them.
I’m not going to beg, I’m just making a case. And I’m good at making cases.
Armen listens, still and absorbing. When I finish, he asks two questions. How deep into the sealed section? And does Alice know the exact location, or an approximate one?
I give him what I have. Exact location, yes. She described a maintenance hatch behind an old stockroom. She’s been there before, just not in a long time.
He nods and says nothing else.
Rogue is leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed and his head tilted.
His expression is unreadable. Not hostile but not supportive either, just the normal Rogue look that means he’s taking everything in.
Or he’s already come to a conclusion and is keeping it to himself until the timing is right.
Not surprisingly, Sting is hard, solid, and unmovable.
He’s sitting in the chair nearest the door, elbows on his knees, hands loose between them. The posture is relaxed but the stillness isn’t. He hasn’t looked at me directly since I started speaking, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere between the table and the floor.
When I finish, no one speaks. Armen looks at Sting. Rogue looks at Sting. I look at Sting. Everyone’s looking at Sting.
He lifts his head. “No.” One word. Clean and final.
My heart doesn’t just drop, my whole body does. If I weren’t sitting in a chair, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep standing. He can’t just say no. He can’t just deny me my father’s legacy. It’s not fair. I deserve answers.
But I suppose nothing about the Rot is fair. Fair is from the before times. It doesn’t exist here and now.
“The territory is dangerous,” he says. “And while the evidence is incomplete, even if we recover more documents, even if they say exactly what you want them to say, it won’t matter.
People have already decided what your father was.
The town of Rothwell decided. The people who lived through what happened to this city decided.
A stack of papers doesn’t undo that. It doesn’t rewrite the version of history that everyone here has built their lives around. ”
Finally looking at me, he holds my gaze. His words are slow and precise because he wants to make sure I listen and understand. His walls are back up, the armor back on, and every trace of the man who just held me has been stored away.
“So, you’re saying it’s all pointless, regardless of what we find?” I ask, trying to control my voice. I’m getting pissed again, I can’t deny it. “People have decided who my father was. It’s a done deal, no further discussion needed. Is that what you are saying?”
He says nothing and the quiet in the room drags. Long enough for Armen’s gaze to move between us, like he knows something I don’t, and long enough for Rogue to turn in his chair. Long enough for the hope I have to deflate a little. Not entirely, but enough.