When she presses the synth-seal to my skin, I hiss.
“Baby,” she teases.
“Brutal.”
She shrugs. “I aim for balance.”
I catch her wrist gently before she pulls away.
“You ever think about what this is now?” I ask. “What we’ve become?”
Her eyes flicker. “Sometimes. When it’s quiet.”
“Does it scare you?”
She exhales slowly, then nods. “Yeah. But in a good way. Like I’m standing on a ledge Ichoseto climb.”
“And if it breaks?”
She smiles crooked. “Then we build again.”
A message comesthrough during evening meal—a new contract request. Standard offer. High credit. Extraction with moderate threat. But tagged to me.
Justme.
My jaw tightens.
She notices instantly. “What?”
“They want the old model,” I say. “Me. Alone.”
Roxy’s lips press into a thin line. She waits.
“I’m not taking it.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “That’s not who I am anymore. I don’t move alone. And I don’t want to.”
She relaxes a little. “Good. Because I already blocked it.”
I raise a brow.
She grins. “Preemptive autonomy. You're welcome.”
I shake my head, laughing. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing,” she says. “Just keep choosing me. That’s enough.”
And I do. Every damn day.
We landon Syfer again two weeks later, the port authorities nodding us through like clockwork.
But it’s different this time. Not because of the route. Because of thereputation.
We walk together, no flanking. Equal stride. Syndicate eyes follow us, but not with fear.
Withrecognition.
