People who like the mask but don’t carry the restraint.
“And if you stay visible?” he asks quietly.
“Then I feed it.”
We sit in the glow of the console for a long moment.
The bond between us hums—not reactive, not alarmed. Steady.
He finally says, “This was her last move.”
“Yes.”
“She turned belief into artillery.”
“Yes.”
“And now we have to decide whether to dismantle it… or wield it.”
The words settle heavy in my chest.
Outside the viewport, Syfer’s trade lanes glow like veins.
Somewhere out there, someone is telling a story about me that isn’t mine anymore.
And the worst part?
They believe it.
I look back at the projection.
At the name.
At the myth.
And I understand something I didn’t before.
The Butcher isn’t just reputation.
It’s infrastructure now.
And infrastructure doesn’t disappear quietly.
CHAPTER 37
VROK
Iknow a trap when I see one.
Even dressed up in myth and shadow, even if it doesn’t come with teeth and blood and a kill box on the other end—I still recognize the shape of it.
What Roxy just found?
It’s the most dangerous battlefield we’ve been on yet.
And it’s not even made of steel or fire.
It’s made ofbelief.
