The room is silent for a long, dangerous moment.
Then a voice crackles from the mesh shroud. Filtered, androgynous, smooth.
“And what, Ms. Dawson, do you gain from this?”
I lean back, finally.
“Stability,” I say. “And the power to make damn sure no one ever sends a blade into my home again.”
Mirene tilts her head. “You speak with a Reaper’s voice.”
I smile. “I slept with a Reaper in my bed.”
She laughs, low and delighted. Vikar doesn’t.
“You understand what this means,” he says. “To bind us all by treaty is to shatter the very fabric of our leverage. There would be no coups. No untraceable hits. No recourse to chaos.”
“Exactly.”
The mesh figure finally nods.
“We will... consider.”
I tap the table once, hard enough to make the projection ripple.
“You have twenty-four hours,” I say. “Then I take the offer to the Nexari. And the deal becomes theirs.”
The room stills again.
Because that’s the thing they fear more than each other.
Irrelevance.
They laugh.
Not all at once. Not immediately. First it’s a scoff from Mirene—soft, sharp, like the crack of a poisoned whip. ThenVikar’s low, mechanical chuckle grinds through the room like metal against bone. The photon-shrouded figure doesn’t laugh, not exactly, but the air distorts around their hood like heat rising from a kill zone.
“This,” Mirene croons, chin resting on her palm, “is what you call leverage? A bureaucrat’s dream? Oh darling, you’re precious.”
“You think treaties and trust-nets can civilize warlords?” Vikar rumbles. “We don’t shake hands, Ms. Dawson. We slit throats.”
“I know,” I say, too calm. “That’s why I brought insurance.”
I reach into my coat and place a black vault chip on the table.
They quiet instantly.
The thing’s innocuous. Small. Flat. Looks like a data wafer from any Glimner alley vendor.
But it hums.
You can hear it, if you know what to listen for—a subliminal buzz like teeth grinding beneath silk. The encryption alone would cook an average console in under five seconds.
“What’s that?” Vikar asks, already knowing.
“My contingency,” I say, pressing my fingertip to the activation node.
The holo-table pings, then flickers to life—not with blueprints this time, but dossiers.
