“Oh no,” Bren stiffens. “He’s not coming in.”
“It’s just a few hours,” I murmur. “Then I’m done.Free. Please. I don’t want Ezzy or anyone else getting hurt because of me, and I need the journals. They’re all I have left of my mum.Besides—”I glance at Talen, holding his gaze long enough to make the point. “He still needs everyone inside to believe this relationship is real, so he’ll be on his best behaviour.”
Talen doesn’t respond, only lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug. I turn back to Bren, tilt my head, soften my eyes, just enough. He hates when I do it. Hates that it works.
And for the second time today, Bren exhales through his nose... and nods.
Awkward doesn’t even beginto cover it. The size of the room doesn’t help. Ezzy, Finn, Bren, and I are crammed around his small kitchen table, knees bumping, elbows brushing. His place is barely a room—kitchen bench, table, one battered chair. The stairs to his loft creak if you breathe near them. I know this place too well, one too many nights I should’ve spent anywhere else.
Rowan stands by the door, arms crossed, jaw tight—wearing the kind ofI told you sothat isn’t smug, just pissed off. Don’t blame him, he warned us we’d get caught.
Across the room, barely two strides away, Talen sits back in Bren’s armchair like he built it for himself. One leg hooked over his knee, the package at his side. He’s spinning one of his daggers between his fingers, casual as anything. The second one sits on the armrest beside him—set down, not discarded. Like he doesn’t need both to make his point. And his gaze? Fixed on Bren, hasn’t even looked at me once.
I want him gone. I want those journals.But I can’t give him an excuse to drag me back, or worse, drag anyone else into this.
The silence holds a second too long—just enough to turn heavy—before Bren finally leans forward, elbows on the table, and cuts through it.
“So.” He taunts. “What brings a Citadel officer all the way out here? Reassigning innocent people for fun now?”
I shift under the table and kick Bren’s shin, just enough to sayDon’t make this worse.
Talen grins. “Yes, actually, five today, if you must know.” He dusts an invisible fleck from his sleeve, casual as hell. “Though I’ll admit, I was hoping for more. Could always make it six. Interested?”
Bren’s jaw ticks, but his voice stays even. “You don’t joke about that. Not here.”
“Why not?” Talen leans back in the chair. “Your people are practically handing it to us. Coordinating strikes on our supply runs. Patrol hits along the wall.” A beat. “We’ve lost cadets, officers. Every week this month, it’s escalated. And every week we’re back out here getting you lot back in order.”
Strikes? Patrol hits? My head jerks toward Bren. I hadn’t heard anything was kicking off—but then again, why would the Citadel broadcast any proof they’re losing control?
Bren doesn’t look at me right away. His jaw flexes, shoulders tight. Then finally: “A lot’s changed since you’ve been gone, Lyra.”
An uncomfortable thought coils through me, tight and unwelcome. Because I don’t even know how to answer that. A month ago, I would’ve loved hearing the Outerlanders were striking back. I would’ve called it justice. But now? Now I know cadets. People, friends, like Ezzy. Like Finn and Rowan. And the thought of us killing them… it doesn’t land the same.
So I don’t say anything.
Bren and Talen, however, keep throwing jabs, each one sharper than the last. It starts political, Outerlands, Innerlands, the Treaty, but it turns fast. Every word hits harder than the one before, until it's not about laws anymore. It’s personal.
Across the table, Ezzy and Finn keep exchanging looks, wide-eyed as if to sayAre we supposed to be here for this?Rowan stilllingers by the door, arms crossed, jaw tight—but he looks like he’s ready to bolt the second this turns worse.
Talen says something low and smug, it hits exactly the wrong nerve. Bren doesn’t flinch, but I see it. The shift. His jaw locks. Hands curl tight around the edge of the table like he’s holding himself in place. God, if either of them stands, this is going to turn into a fight.
“Enough.” My voice tight and clipped. “We’re not doing this.”
They both look at me. I meet Bren’s eyes first, then Talen’s. Not a threat. Not a plea. Just:Don’t.Talen exhales through his nose first and leans back like he’s being generous. In response, Bren eases his hands off the table, fingers flexing once before he looks away.
“He started it.” Talen mutters, dagger still in hand.
Beside me, Finn clears his throat, like he’s about to break the ice with something stupid, anything to cut the tension. I shoot him a quick look, enough to pin him quiet.But this has to end clean—Talen gone, journals in my hands, Bren and everyone clear of the fallout. But one punch and I’ll lose it all.
Across the room, I catch Rowan edging towards the door. I need to shift them fast, steer the conversation somewhere safer. Less flammable.
“How’s Rhiann?” I angle toward Bren. “And her boy? Charlie? God, they haven't had any Spice all month...”
His head tilts, like he’s not sure he heard me right. Then a flicker of softness cuts through the hard lines of his face.
“Still not good, though he’s getting better. But… Lyra—” His brow furrows, confusion clear. “Someone’s been dropping her Spice each week. He told Rhiann you’d arranged it? That you’d set it up ahead of time?‘Charming and drop-dead fuckable’were her exact words. She seems pretty taken with him. Which, for Rhiann, is saying a lot.” He hesitates. “It wasn’t you?”
“No... how could I have?” The words scrape out, but my brain’s already scrambling. How would I have set that up? Who the hell even—None of it makes sense. My eyes cut to Talen before I can stop them.
