Then she reaches over and shifts the knife further from the pillow—just a few inches.
But enough.
My breath catches in my throat.
Because maybe that future I pictured—the one with warmth and cracked coffee cups and peace—maybe it’s not just a dream.
Maybe it’s the next move.
I think we might live long enough to reach it.
CHAPTER 24
KELSEA
The message blinks in just past dawn, slotted in like a ghost transmission—low priority, low clearance, but it stinks of power.
Roja catches it first. I’m still curled up in the corner, blanket twisted around my legs, when his breath stutters hard enough to pull me out of whatever shallow sleep I was pretending to have.
“What is it?” I ask, voice rasping.
He doesn’t answer right away, just stares at the pad like it might catch fire in his hands.
I sit up, the cold floor biting my palms as I push myself upright.
“Roja.”
“They called an inquiry,” he says finally. His voice is all gravel and fury. “Coalition command.”
I blink, brain still fogged. “For what? Damage control?”
“For him. For the cleric.”
The word hits like a slap. I’m on my feet now, grabbing the pad. Roja lets it go reluctantly, like it’s poison he can’t stop drinking.
It’s all there in sharp white text against black:Coalition Command has announced a full-scale inquiry intoadministrative misconduct, citing "irregularities in oversight and protocol."
Beneath it, smaller, colder—Cleric Vasso detained pending emergency inquiry.
No appeals. No delay. Execution to be broadcast across all public nodes within the cycle.
“They’re feeding him to the crowd,” I whisper. “Like it’ll fix everything.”
“They think it will,” Roja growls, pacing now, his boots thudding against concrete. “They think one dead monster will silence the screams. Your video forced their hand, but they’re trying to control the bleeding.”
I shake my head. “It’s not justice. It’s spin. They’re cutting off the limb to save the body.”
“It’s a damn insult,” he snaps. “They hand him over, they keep their hands clean, and we’re supposed to clap?”
Then another ping. Another file. A formal offer. Coalition seal at the top.
Words that feel like shackles:Immunity. Relocation Assistance.
Roja reads it, then laughs. It’s not a good sound.
“They want to bury us now. Let us disappear. Convenient ends to a messy story.”
“They’re giving us a way out,” I say, reading the terms.
