His eyes flash, not with rage, but something else. Like he hates this just as much as I do, but not enough to stop it.
The other cadets step back, tension rolling off them. Even Finn. No one wants to get in the middle.
Talen’s attention snaps back to the baker, now unguarded by the door. “Luc,” he calls, voice tight. “Take him.”
Lucien moves, but Strannt’s already there, grinning like he’s been waiting for permission. He grabs the baker, pries him off his daughters, and hauls him out into the alley.
The baker’s fingers twitch in his grip, weak Threads flaring just once, but Strannt’s magic slams down faster. Cleaner. The movement dies before it can become anything more.
“Hand him over, Strannt.” Talen calls. “We’ll take him from here.”
“Finders keepers.” Strannt replies smug, “I think I'll add him to my tally for the month. Your list is getting too long.”
Too long? How many people has Talen Reassigned this month?Who is he?
A steady tapping approaches behind us as Talen’s fingers twitch at his side. He looks to the baker, then to Strannt, the gold in his eyes flashing bright. He takes a step forward?—
“Officer Veirmont. Officer Thornviel.” A dry voice follows that same slow tap of a cane on stone. “What seems to be the issue here?”
I spin as Professor Strannt, Weasel Senior, steps between us, blue robes dragging, expression unreadable. He glances toward his son—still gripping the baker by the arm—then past him to the doorway, where the man’s two daughters are still pressed back in the shadows.
“No issue, Professor.” Talen replies smoothly. “We’re detaining this citizen for questioning and Reassignment, assuming Officer Strannt is willing to hand him over.”
The Weasel’s dad smiles, all smooth edges and polished charm. “Looks like Officer Strannt has things well in hand, and I’m more than happy to escort our guest back to the Citadel myself. After all, Officer Veirmont, we would both be taking him to the same place.” He casts a glance toward the baker, still pinned, still silent, still white.
Talen’s jaw tightens, but then nods. “As you wish.”
Professor Strannt smiles again, shifting his weight on to his cane.
Behind him, the baker jerks hard against the Weasel's grip. Elbows flailing. Half a second of panic, wild and stupid—like he suddenly remembered he’s not supposed to go quietly. He doesn’t get the chance. Strannt’s elbow drives into his temple, brutal and efficient. The man drops like a bag of flour.
For a second, the professor reaches like he’s going to drag the body—fingers fisted in the collar, arms tensed. But then he sighs and flicks two fingers. The baker’s body lifts. Not far—just enough to float a few inches above the ground. Limbs limp, head lolled to the side like a broken doll. Then they turn, calm as ever, and disappear down the alley. The body drifting after them.
Crying erupts from the doorway, the two young girls scream, one tries to run after him, the other drops to her knees, crawlingacross the stone, but Talen moves, fast, catching them both, locking his arms around their flailing limbs. They thrash hard. Sobbing. Clawing.
“Take the cadets back to the Citadel,” he snaps to Lucien, as the girls in his grip start to calm under his touch. “I’ll deal with this shit-show.”
Lucien nods and steps up beside me, grabbing my arm—firm, no warning. His jaw clenches. So does his grip as he turns, leading us away.
Behind us, just barely audible.“Fuck,” Talen mutters under his breath.
The walkback through the tunnel is tense. No one speaks. It’s silent except for the sound of footsteps echoing off stone, like we’re all pretending we didn’t just watch a man get ripped from his daughters.
Lucien’s still got a grip on my arm. Not hard, but present. Like he’s waiting to see if I’ll run.
In front of me, Finn glances over his shoulder. I feel it. That sideways flick of his eyes, waiting for me to meet him halfway.
I don’t.
I can’t.
Because if I look at him, if I see pity—or worse, disappointment—I’ll lose it. Right here in the fucking tunnel.
Air doesn’t come right, my chest feels too tight, like my ribs are shrinking in around my lungs.
I just want to get through the routine interrogation and make it to my room before I break apart. But the way Lucien is holding me tells me there's nothing routine about what’s waiting for me.
Shit.
