Not because we’re afraid to speak.
But because for once, we don’t have to.
CHAPTER 14
ROJA
The summons comes just after shift change. Plain message. No name attached. Just: “Security review. Report immediately.”
I know what it is.
It ain’t a review. It’s a leash check.
I walk into the admin wing still covered in grease. Don’t bother changing. Let ’em see the grit, the burn marks. I’m not here to impress anyone.
Room’s cold. Clean. Smells like recycled air and sterilized metal. I clock the two guards posted at the door. Not standard. Not for a security “review.”
Inside, a man waits. Thin, grey-jacketed. Too polished for a yard like this.
He doesn’t ask me to sit. Doesn’t offer a name.
I stay standing.
“You’ve been working here… eighteen months?” he asks.
“Closer to nineteen.”
“You were reassigned from Kosha Yard. No reason listed.”
“Not my choice.”
He flips through a tablet like he’s reading tea leaves. “You’ve clocked every shift, no tardies. Quiet. Efficient. You blend well.”
I say nothing.
He sets the tablet down. Folds his hands.
“But something’s changed.”
I lift a brow. “You tell me.”
He doesn’t smile. “We’ve had reports of irregular movement. After hours. Near dock five. Surveillance blind spot.”
I shrug. “Hard to sleep sometimes. Walk clears the head.”
“Your record with the Coalition… it’s sealed. But not erased.”
His eyes sharpen as he says it. Like he expects me to flinch. Like he’s waiting for the old Roja to show his teeth.
But I keep my voice even. “Then you know I know how to keep my head down.”
“You’re not keeping it down enough.”
That’s the tell. This ain’t just routine. Someone’s rattled. Someone’s worried enough to poke the bear.
“We’ll be increasing oversight,” he says. “For your safety, of course.”
“Course.”
