"I—how did you—"
"Because I'm not fucking stupid." I finally look at him. His thread is spasming now, dark and frantic. "Did you think we wouldn't check? Did you think Discord—the intelligence house, the one that knows everything about everyone—wouldn't verify your horseshit story before paying you?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
"That's what I thought."
Renan is leaning against the far wall, arms crossed.
"So," he says. "Do we kill him or just take the hand he used to sign the false reports?"
The informant starts crying. Actual tears.
Gods, that's embarrassing.
"Neither." I'm already pushing back from the table. "He's not worth the mess. Dump him in the Waste Lands. Give Death something to do beside brood."
"Generous."
"I'm in a good mood."
I'm not in a good mood. I'm in the opposite of a good mood. I've been in the opposite of a good mood for six hours, and the pressure beneath my ribs won't fucking ease.
Seven blocks north. She's seven fucking blocks north and I can feel the distance in my chest. I know exactly where she is. Could walk there blindfolded. Could find her in the dark with my eyes cut out.
What the fuck is happening to me.
Kade drags the informant toward the back exit. The crying gets fainter.
Good.
I was about to gag him just to make it stop.
"You're staring north again," Renan says.
"I'm aware."
"That's the eighth time in the last hour. I've been counting."
"Then stop counting."
"Can't. It's entertaining." He pushes off the wall, crosses to stand beside me. "The interrogations were shit today. You know that, right? That one should have broken in four minutes. You let him ramble for twenty."
I don't answer. My attention keeps sliding—away from the reports, away from the maps.
"The mortal," Renan says.
My jaw tightens.
"The one from the Concord. The one you threatened Coin's representative over. The one you got hard watching take a hit."
"I remember who she is."
"Good. Because you've been thinking about her instead of working, and your distraction is making my job harder."
I turn. Face him fully. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to tell me what's happening." His voice doesn't change—still flat, still dry—but his eyes are sharp. "You've never been distracted. You're the most annoyingly focused person I've ever met, and today you let a shit informant lie to your face for twenty minutes before you corrected him."
