And so is the cage.
57
ARMEN
The work hubgoes quiet the moment Vi walks in.
I’m not surprised she elicits this reaction from people. She probably always has.
I watch from my usual spot near the supply coordinator’s station, arms crossed, tracking her movements. She’s limping worse today, bad knee protesting after too many stairs yesterday, but she keeps her head up, shoulders squared. Doesn’t try to hide it.
The older woman with the shaved head glances up from her station, eyes following Vi for half a second before returning to her work. A few other Runts pause mid-motion, then resume. Whispers start near the far wall, low, quick, then die when I shift my weight.
I’m about to turn back to the coordinator when movement catches my eye.
The troublemaker.
She’s at the far end of the hub, near the water filter station.
She starts walking. Straight toward Vi’s table.
I push off the wall, already moving, but I don’t rush. I need to see what she does. How far she’ll push.
The girl stops a few feet from Vi’s table, close enough to be noticed but not touching. She doesn’t speak at first. Just watches.
Vi stiffens but doesn’t look up. Keeps sorting. Hands steady.
She leans in slightly. “Heard you turned down Jax’s invitation. Kind of rude of you to refuse. I wish he’d invite me over.”
Vi’s hands slow but don’t stop. She sets a gauze packet down carefully. “What do you want?”
“Nothing.” The girl shrugs. “Just checking in. Making sure you’re still... intact.”
Vi finally looks up. Her gaze is flat, controlled. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” The girl’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Because I’d hate for something to happen to you. Accidents happen down here. All the time.”
The threat is clear. Public. Deliberate.
Vi’s hands curl into fists at her sides.
I’m already halfway across the hub when the girl makes her mistake.
She steps forward, too close, and shoves Vi’s crate off the table. It hits the floor with a sharp crack. Gauze packets scatter across the tile.
The hub goes completely silent.
Vi stares at the mess, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Pick it up,” Vi says.
The girl laughs. “Make me.”
Vi moves fast, faster than I expect. She lunges forward, grabs the girl by the front of her shirt, and yanks her in close. Their faces are inches apart now, breath mingling.
“I said pick it up,” Vi repeats. Voice low. Dangerous.
She grins. “Or what? You’ll hit me? Go ahead. Your boys aren’t here to save you this time.”
Wrong.
