“The name stuck.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s measuring the word against the man standing in front of her.
“Brody,” I add after a moment. “If you want the real one.”
Her lips part like she might say it, then she stops.
Like she knows names can make things mean something.
Smart.
“Thank you,” she whispers instead.
I nod toward the mug. “Drink your tea.”
She does.
I watch her while she does it. Her hands. Her breathing. The way her eyes jump when the wind taps the window.
She’s holding herself together with willpower and threads.
So I keep my voice steady.
Keep my body loose.
Keep my distance.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Tank:Moving. Will update.
Good.
Ruby’s eyes flick toward my pocket. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say. “But Tank’s good at what he does.”
She swallows. “You all are.”
That almost pulls a laugh out of me.
She has no idea what we are when we stop pretending to be polite.
I keep that part to myself.
“For tonight,” I say, “your job’s simple.”
Ruby looks at me cautiously. “What?”
“Breathe,” I tell her. “Finish your tea. Stay inside.”
Her shoulders rise with a shaky breath. “And your job?”
My answer comes out low.
“Make sure nobody ever puts you on a stage again.”
Her eyes sting with tears she refuses to let fall.
