Chapter 42 #2
I sat at the table, sweat cooling on my skin, feeling the eyes that were no longer on me.
The council reconvened with none of the earlier chaos, but all of the suspicion.
This time, the benches were half-empty; the rest had filtered out into the catacombs to gossip, plot, or just breathe air untainted by Authority ghosts.
Maven called Kang forward with a tilt of the chin, then leaned back and watched the ripple it sent through the room.
He stood, slow, hands clasped behind his back. In the red light, his Authority blue looked black. Nobody said a word, but I could feel the questions crowding the air.
The woman with the piercings picked up where she’d left off. “We’ve heard from your… advocate.” She shot Maven a look. “Now you. Why should any of us believe you’re not just here to finish what Petrov started?”
Kang didn’t answer at first. His lips pressed together so tightly I thought they’d fuse. Then, voice low but steady, he said: “I believed in the Authority. For a long time, it was the only thing that made sense. But I saw what it did to people. What it did to me.”
He paused, flexed his fingers behind his back. “We were told the Zone was a threat, that memory loss was infection, that the only way to hold the line was to cull the weak. But the culling never stopped. It just changed targets.”
He looked straight at the councilwoman. “We killed people for forgetting. But we forgot ourselves, every day. I saw squads disappear, records vanish, entire blocks reclassified as ‘experimental error.’ When they sent me after Diana, I knew what that meant.”
He glanced at me, then away. “I couldn’t do it. Not again.”
The woman’s face didn’t change, but she sat back, arms folded. “You were Authority for years. What makes you think a few days of guilt gets you a free pass?”
Kang let out a slow breath. “It doesn’t. You don’t owe me anything.”
He started to sit, then stopped. The hand at his side shook, just a hair. He clenched it into a fist.
I didn’t think. I just reached out, slid my hand into his. Our fingers touched, cold and rough. The tremor stopped.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then Maven spoke up, voice echoing off the bare walls. “We judge by what you do next, not what you were before. That’s how Sanctuary survives.”
The man with the melted ear grunted, but didn’t argue.
The meeting dissolved after that. Councilors drifted out, some nodding to Kang, some ignoring him. Maven waited until the benches were empty, then turned to us.
“You’re both exhausted,” they said. “There’s a med bay three tunnels down. Doc will be there in an hour.”
Kang nodded, but I barely heard. My head pounded with a steady, dull pressure. The cold concrete underfoot had started to tilt and sway.
Maven caught my elbow, not unkindly. “You need rest. The beds here aren’t much, but better than the cells.”
They led us down a side passage, the lights shifting from red to a muted amber. The walls here were lined with scrap metal, welded in crazy angles. Every twenty meters, a makeshift lamp cast more shadow than light.
We walked past a few of the crowded sleeping quarters, each packed with multiple bunks and cots, the low hum of voices and the faint smell of bodies thick in the air.
At the end of the hall, they stopped before a small, private room.
A single cot filled most of the space—just big enough for two people.
“Down the hall are the shared washrooms,” Maven said, nodding toward the dim corridor.
“Water’s rationed, but it runs. There’s a trunk of clean clothes outside—wear what fits.
This room will be best for you,” they added, a sharp glance at Kang.
“You’re new, and… people already have opinions about him. Better to keep to yourselves for now.”
I eased myself onto the cot, the thin blanket scratching against my skin. Kang slid in beside me, close enough that the heat radiating off him pressed against me. My heart gave an involuntary jump, the small space amplifying every brush of his arm.
Maven hovered in the doorway, watching us. “There’s a gathering tonight. Food, music, whatever passes for joy. You’re both expected to show. And Diana—” they looked at me, voice lowering— “Doc will check your arm, but if you feel the memories coming back, let me know. We’ve seen it before.”
I nodded. My shoulder burned. My head felt full of broken glass.
Kang watched Maven with the same intensity he’d used on the council. “Thank you,” he said.
Maven gave him a hard smile. “Don’t thank me yet.” Their gaze sharpened. “I’ll have eyes on you at all times. You betray her—” Maven’s smile widened, all teeth— “you won’t get a chance to regret it.”
Kang dipped his head, the old Authority nod, then softened. “I understand.”
Maven lingered a second, then closed the door behind them.
We were alone.
I pressed my palm to my forehead, trying to keep the world from spinning away. Kang reached over, his hand gentle, fingers cool on my skin.
“You okay?” he asked.
I opened my eyes, tried to focus on his face. “Not even close,” I whispered.
He let out a short, tired laugh. “Me neither.”
I leaned into him, letting his arm wrap around my shoulders. It felt awkward, but real. The way people sometimes hold each other just to remember where they end and the world begins.
For the first time in days, I let myself close my eyes.
I listened to the thrum of the tunnels, the far-off sounds of laughter and argument and maybe even music. I let the warmth from Kang’s body seep into mine, burn away some of the chill.
In a few hours, we’d have to stand in front of everyone again. We’d have to find a way to break the maze. Maybe even burn it down.
But for now, there was nothing but the cot, the dark, and the weight of his arm holding me to the world.