"You're kicking out families." Her voice rises. "Seniors on fixed incomes. Small business owners who can't afford waterfront rent anywhere else."
The room erupts. People shouting agreement, others calling for order. The mayor bangs his gavel.
I stand.
The movement draws eyes. Silence ripples outward.
"I have tenancy," I say. The words come out rougher, too loud in the sudden quiet.
Vance turns. His smile falters when he sees me. I watch him calculate. Orc. Big. Potentially difficult.
"Legally," I continue, forcing the words into something resembling calm, "you can't evict without cause. I own this unit. I follow rules."
"We're not evicting anyone," Vance recovers smoothly. "We're purchasing properties. Your landlord is free to sell."
"Did he agree?"
"Negotiations are ongoing."
Which means no. Not yet.
"Then I'm not leaving." I cross my arms. The shirt pulls tight across my shoulders. "Not until he makes me."
Vance's jaw tightens. The smile stays fixed but his eyes go cold. "Mr?—"
"Olden. Grath Olden."
"Mr. Olden, I'm sure we can reach an arrangement that satisfies everyone."
"I doubt that."
Murmurs spread. Someone behind me whispers approval. Phones come out, cameras pointing.
Maris glances back. Our eyes meet. Hers are wide, startled, but there's something else there. Pride, maybe. Or shock that I spoke up.
I hold her gaze until she looks away first.
"This is a community forum," the mayor interjects, banging the gavel again. "Everyone will have a chance to speak. Mr. Vance, please continue your presentation."
Vance does, but his voice has lost its smoothness. The slides click past faster. Numbers blur together. No one's really listening anymore.
When it ends, the mayor calls for questions. Hands shoot up. The meeting dissolves into chaos. Arguments. People crowding the front.
I push toward the exit before I say something worse.
Outside, the night air is cool. Salt-edged. I breathe deep and try to unclench my fists.
Footsteps behind me. Light. Quick.
"That was stupid." Maris's voice.
I turn. She's standing on the steps, arms wrapped around herself against the chill.
"Probably."
"Definitely." She descends until she's level with me. Still has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. "You just painted a target on yourself."
"Good."
