A harsh electronic buzzer sounds, vibrating in my jaw and cutting through the whine still ringing in my ears.
I jump.
Cassian sighs, the sound rattling deep in his chest. He glances at a wall panel near the bed.
“Report,” he says.
The intercom crackles.
“Perimeter is re-secured,” Varro says. His voice sounds warped, like he’s speaking underwater through a blown speaker. “We found the breach point. They cut the hardline at the north junction.”
“The bodies?” Cassian asks.
I flinch. The word hangs in the air, ugly and real.
“Twelve tangos,” Varro reports. “Plus Kirill. We’re bagging them now. The cleaners are five minutes out to scrub the antechamber.”
I wrap my arms around myself. Cleaners. Like they’re talking about a spill on a rug, not thirteen dead men.
“Ours?” Cassian asks, his voice lower.
“Six dead,” Varro says, somber. “Plus four in medical. I’ll handle the transports personally.”
Cassian’s jaw tightens. “See to their families. Keep the comms dark. Wake me only if the sensors trip.”
“Copy. Out.”
The intercom clicks off.
Cassian watches me, gauging my reaction.
“This is your world,” I whisper. “This is normal for you.”
“Nothing about tonight is normal,” he says. “But the cleanup? Yes. You get used to it.”
“You talk about them like they’re garbage. Bagged. Scrubbed.”
“They came to put us in the ground,” he says. “They forfeited their humanity the moment they breached that door. I beat them to it.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. But the absolute coldness of it still turns my stomach.
It makes my frantic snooping through the library before the siege feel incredibly naive. I’d been looking for physical files—a paper trail or a printed dossier on Elias Vane that I could actually read and understand. I didn’t find anything. I realize now how stupid that was. Whatever caused this slaughter, whatever they are fighting over... it isn’t a stack of paper in a filing cabinet. It has to be whatever Varro shoved into Cassian’s pocket at the elevator.
“I need to clean you up,” I say, changing the subject before I spiral. “The soot... It’s everywhere. It’ll get into the bandage.”
“Iris, leave it. You need to sleep.”
“I can’t sleep. Not yet.”
I can’t close my eyes. If I do, I’ll see the black bore of that rifle again. I’ll see the blood spraying across the stone. I need to be useful.
Turning back to the sink, I find a clean washcloth and wet it with warm water. I return to the bed, hesitating as I step between his spread knees.
“Let me.”
He watches me for a long beat. Then, he tilts his head back against the wall, exposing his throat.
I step closer.
