"What about her?"
"Organizing medical supplies. Made infection salve for Davis. Convinced Tooth to eat vegetables." Pause. "Your shadows keep drifting her way."
They are. Right now. I force them back. They resist.
"Your point?"
"No point. Observations." She stands. "Dock Street warehouse?"
"How did you—"
"Voices carry." Already moving. "Strike team?"
"Just us. And Grimm."
"Against fifteen?"
"Sixteen."
She studies me. The blood. The exhaustion. The way my shadows pull toward Olivia's corner.
"When's the last time you slept?"
"When's the last time you minded your business?"
"Twenty years ago." She heads out. "She made flatbread earlier. Ridge saved you some."
The flatbread's burnt on one side, raw on the other. Ridge guards it like it's precious.
"She said you needed to eat."
"She says many things."
"She was right about the infection."
I eat it. Char and flour. Then I remember—Asha asked about flatbread yesterday. Wanted to learn. Her mother never taught her. Olivia promised to show her when things settled. Now Asha's wrapped in sheets upstairs.
"Ready." Grimm appears, wiping his blade.
We dissolve into shadow roads. Copper and ice. My body protests. I push through.
The warehouse sits where Corven said. Poorly guarded. Desperate.
"Silent entry."
Guards die before they scream. Shadows solidify in their throats. Expand. Bodies drop.
Inside, I let them see me first. Let them think they know where the threat is.
Grimm takes left. Four rush him. Water wraps his legs, pulls him down. Miscalculated—
Joss moves. Two down before they know she's there. Ice spear through her shoulder. She doesn't pause. Opens him from groin to sternum.
I take center.
First one gets water up in a spiral. Pretty. Useless. Shadows punch through him. Blood paints the wall.
Two more rush together. Their water merges. I split into shadow. Pure darkness.
