“Lock talk to you this morning?”I asked.
Ember glanced at me over the rim of her mug. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Just wondering.”
She held my gaze for a long second. “He told me to keep you close today.”
“Because?” I asked.
“Because he’s Lock…” She sighed. “…and because things are moving.”
My stomach tightened. “Moving how?”
“Not my lane to explain.”
I pushed off the counter. “I don’t like being the last to know.”
Her expression softened
“I know,” she said. “But you’re not in the dark completely.”
“That’s comforting,” I muttered.
At least she didn’t point out that captives weren’t really told what was happening.
She smiled faintly. “You’ll live.”
We didn’t talk much after that. She handed me a plate, pointed me to a seat, and went back to her coffee. I ate because my body needed it, even though my appetite came and went with every thought about Lock, Rowan, the cut on my shoulders, and the way people kept recalculating me in real time.
Halfway through my eggs, I heard it.
Not directed at me. Not meant for me.
“…Rowan’s not known for patience.”
“…Prez’s playing it tight.”
“…Reapers won’t sit on their hands forever.”
My fork paused halfway to my mouth.
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t make it obvious I was there, or listening.
A man I didn’t recognize leaned closer to another near the sink, voice low. “If Reapers think Lock will let this go, they’re idiots. Clock’s ticking and Prez doesn’t fuck around.”
That was it.
It was like they realized I was there, so they stopped speaking completely.
But I’d heard enough.
Whatever deal Lock had made, it wasn’t open-ended.
It had an expiration date.
And it was close.
I finished eating and stood, dropping my plate in the sink. Ember caught my eye immediately.
