“I do now,” I said. I looked down at my bandaged arm.
Simon had rewrapped it with surprisingly steady hands. The skin underneath already looked better. It was less angry, less raw.
“You know, sit by the sea, have a drink, think about my life choices,” I continued.
“Are you drunk?” she demanded.
I smiled faintly. “Maybe. A little.”
“Kit.” Her tone dropped, the kind of voice that had cowed rookies and terrified fresh recruits. “The Guild has tolerated your erratic behavior because you get results. But you’ve missed two reports and gone off-grid for forty-eight hours. You know what that means.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be on probation.” I let the words roll off my tongue like they didn’t matter.
“You don’t sound concerned.”
“I’m not,” I said.
Another pause. Longer this time. “When will you be back for active duty?” She asked, her tone clipped.
I let out a quiet laugh. “We’ll see.”
“Kit.”
“I said, we’ll see.”
There was a hiss of frustration through the speaker, followed by the sound of keys clacking. She was probably typing up my reprimand in real time.
“You’re on thin ice, Hunter 1179. One more failed mission and you’re done. No pension, no reinstatement. You’ll be blacklisted. Do you understand me?” Margaret demanded.
“Loud and clear.”
“Then file your report. Now.”
Click. The line went dead.
I stared at the phone for a long time, thumb hovering over the screen, watching the faint reflection of my own face on the darkened glass.
The Guild’s logo blinked once before disappearing, leaving me with nothing but my distorted reflection and the quiet pulse of my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
The threat of losing my rank and my purpose should’ve hit hard.
A year ago, it would’ve gutted me. A year ago, I would’ve sat here replaying every word, trying to figure out how to fix it, how to prove them wrong.
How to scrape together enough pride to keep pretending I was still the same man I’d been before everything went to hell. But now? I felt nothing.
Just a faint, tired hum somewhere deep beneath my ribs, like an echo of a song I used to know. Maybe that was what scared me most.
Not the Guild’s threat. Not the idea of being finished. But the realization that it didn’t hurt anymore. It should’ve. I should’ve felt something. Anger, fear, or shame. Something.
But all I could think was that maybe I’d already lost whatever made me care.
Maybe it had slipped away months ago, back when I stopped sleeping properly, when I started getting assigned the missions no one else wanted. Haunted houses, backwater towns, fake calls.
Things no one would notice if I didn’t come back from.
The silence of the house pressed around me, thick and heavy, broken only by the faint creak of old floorboards settling. I rubbed a hand over my face, the stubble rough under my fingers.
The phone still sat in my lap, screen gone dark, its weight oddly final. Like the Guild had just closed a door I wasn’t sure I wanted open anymore.
