“I saw it,” I blurt out. “He—he killed someone! A micro fusion block, justmurderedhim?—”
“Name?” the first officer barks.
“Sable. Sable Jackson. I—I just wanted shoes?—”
“Take her in.”
I flinch. “Wait, what?! I’m thewitness!”
“You’re the only breathing person on scene,” the second one says, pulling a scanner out. “Let’s keep it that way.”
They don’t cuff me. They don’t have to. I’m too shaken to resist.
The next hour is a haze.
Bright interrogation room. Table that smells like sterilizer and old desperation. Commandant Lazarus appears on a screen—not in person, of course. Vakutan male, leaner than most, all ridged and polished and pissed off that he has to deal with me.
“Miss Jackson,” he says, voice like gravel soaked in bureaucracy. “You saw the execution?”
“I saw it all,” I say. “Through a fence. The guy begged. Then boom. He’s gone. The killer’s name is Saul—he said Otto sent him.”
Lazarus nods slowly, as if confirming something awful. “The Nine.”
“I don’twantto know what that means,” I mutter.
But I do. Idoknow. Everyone does.
The Nine run the kind of syndicate that makes other crime lords flinch. They’ve been operating on Novaria for decades, and most people pretend not to see it. But once you see it? You’re on their radar. And they never blink.
The room falls quiet.
Then Lazarus leans closer to the screen. “We’re putting you into protective custody.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re now the only living witness to a Nine-ordered execution. We’ll move you offworld, fake ident, deep cover. You’ll have a new job, new place, new?—”
“Stop.” I hold up both hands. “Absolutely not.”
“Miss Jackson?—”
“I said no! I’m not going into hiding like some damsel in a soap opera. I have alife. I have a job. Clients. Rent. Jacey will kill me if I bail on her. Do you know how hard it is to rebook wedding parties on short notice?!”
Lazarus’s brow ridges shift—maybe confusion, maybe constipation. Hard to tell with Vakutans.
“You’d rather be a dead stylist than a living asset?”
“I’d rather beme, thank you very much.”
There’s a silence. Then he sighs.
“You are legally permitted to refuse protection. But I’d advise you to reconsider.”
“Duly noted. Still no.”
Another officer leads me out.
Outside, Novaria’s lights feel colder than usual. Everything’s too bright. Too fake. Like the world shifted half a degree to the left while I wasn’t looking.
