Otto leans forward, his elbows sinking into the velvet cloth like anchors. His voice drops, low and syrupy.
“No games tonight, my friend. I’m here to talk business. Real business.”
I grunt again, noncommittal.
“You see,” he says, steepling his fingers, “we both know this is a losing battle. The Nine—” he lowers his voice, like it matters in a place wired tighter than a military vault, “—don’t like loose ends. And your client? She’s not just a loose end. She’s a frayed fuse sitting next to a powder keg. One word from her in front of a tribunal and half the Syndicate goes down in flames.”
He sighs, like this all just pains him.
“I’m not here to gloat, Voltar. I’m here to make a deal.”
I tilt my head. Let my eyes narrow. “You already made an offer. I turned it down.”
“You were hasty. I get it. First instinct’s always to growl and posture.” He waves a hand like swatting away an annoying pet. “But think about it—really think about it. This girl? She ain’t your type. She’s soft. Civilian. Fragile in all the places you’re made of steel. And she’s got a mouth on her that’s gonna get her killed whether you protect her or not.”
I don’t move. Don’t blink. My muscles coil under the table.
“But here’s the thing…” Otto leans in closer. I can smell the imported synth-whiskey on his breath. “All you gotta do is… go for a walk.”
I raise a brow ridge.
“Walk?”
“Yeah. Say, fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. Head down to the bar. Let her be alone long enough for my associate to pay her a visit. You don’t have to do nothin’. No guilt. No mess. You’re not a traitor. You’re just… distracted.”
“And in return?”
Otto’s grin widens like a slice through warm meat. “One billion credits. Untraceable. In whatever format you want. Chips. Gold. Galactic bonds. You could buy your own moon, Voltar. Hell, buy two. Make them kiss.”
I let silence stretch between us like a taut wire. His eyes are dancing now, teeth flashing like cheap neon. He thinks he’s winning.
I lower my gaze. Rub my jaw like I’m chewing it over.
“A billion, huh?”
“Clean. No strings.”
I lean back slowly, pretending to weigh it. Pretending to be the dumb brute they always think I am.
“And all I gotta do is… not be there.”
He spreads his arms. “Exactly.”
There’s a beat.
Then I grin.
Wide. Wicked.
“Done.”
His reaction is immediate. His whole body relaxes. He slaps the table once, hard enough to rattle the silverware that nobody’s using. The tension in his shoulders melts into something close to relief.
“I knew you were smarter than you looked,” he laughs. “Stars, Voltar, I knew it!”
I chuckle too. Just enough to sell it.
“Timing?” I ask.
