She pauses. “Rhea. The kid. They’re exposed now.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
Leena narrows her eyes. “You sure about this? You want me digging in that muck again, I’ll do it. But you know how the Combine reacts to ghosts.”
I let the silence answer.
Finally she leans back and breathes through her teeth. “Alright. I’ll ping old strings. But hear me, Valtron—your name’s not forgotten. And neither is hers. They remember what she leaked. What you broke. That girl’s not just a kid to them. She’s proof.”
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth groan.
“I appreciate it, Leena.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she says. “You’re asking for heat you can’t outrun. Better brace.”
The screen dies.
I stand in the blue-dark glow of the scrambler field for a moment. Just breathing. Listening. I feel the muscles in my shoulders twitch like I’m about to fight something that isn’t here yet.
Then I hear Rhea’s voice from down the hall.
Sharp. Confused.
“Quinn?”
I turn.
She’s back in the comm room, face pale, hand trembling as she holds her compad like it’s radioactive. Her voice cracks again.
“Quinn, slow down. What are you saying?”
I stride in, crouching low enough not to clip the doorway. Her hand flies up, silencing me.
“Yes. I remember the box. You said it was junk. You said it wasn’t worth—wait. Are you serious?”
She turns to me, eyes wild.
“It’s his brother,” she mouths.
Then: “Where?”
She listens. Nods. Her other hand fists in her blouse.
“Okay. Send me the coords. No, don’t come here. Stay low. Burn your feeds.”
She hangs up.
“Talk,” I say, already moving to shut the door and throw up a new jammer.
Rhea turns, skin tight across her knuckles. “It’s Quinn’s brother. He’s been sorting his stuff since... since they buried him.”
“Quinn the segment producer?”
“The one who helped get Argus’s packet to me,” she says. “The one they said died in an engine malfunction last year.”
I remember. Thin guy. Sharp. Too sharp. Dead too young.
