“You triggered something,” he says.
Clint swallows. “Yeah.”
Lonari’s gaze shifts to me. “We have incoming.”
My heart clenches. “Define incoming.”
Lonari’s voice is calm, which is somehow worse. “Nine agents. Entered Gur disguised as trade reps. They’ve checked into three hotels near the industrial ring. They’re asking questions.”
Clint’s face drains of color. “About what?”
Lonari’s eyes lock on mine. “About you. By name.”
The room goes very still.
My skin prickles as if the name itself is a beacon.
Clint whispers, “They know she’s here.”
“They always knew she was on Gur,” Lonari replies. “But now they’re hunting with intent, not rumor.”
Because we rang the bell.
Because we reached for High Lantern and the system heard us.
I exhale slowly through my nose, forcing my panic into a box.
A small box. For later.
Lonari watches me like he’s waiting for me to say,Hide me. Protect me. Put me in a bunker.
Instead, I straighten.
“No,” I say.
Clint blinks. “No what?”
“No bunker,” I say. “No hiding in a hole while they circle.”
Lonari’s eyes narrow slightly—half approval, half warning. “Jordan?—”
“I’m not being stubborn for fun,” I cut in, voice sharp. “If we hide, they’ll tighten. They’ll take hostages. They’ll hit civilians. They’ll squeeze Kaijen until someone offers me up.”
Clint’s jaw tightens. “She’s right.”
Lonari’s gaze flicks to him briefly, surprised, then back to me. “What are you proposing?”
I swallow hard. My mouth tastes like metal again, like fear is a coin I keep chewing.
“We bait them,” I say.
Clint’s eyes widen. “Jordan?—”
I hold up a hand. “Listen. They’re asking for me by name because they think I’m the lever. Fine. Let them think that. Let them move openly.”
Lonari studies me, silent.
I keep going before my courage has time to evaporate.
