“Somewhere the walls don’t report every word we speak. I’ll explain the rest—your mother, your brother, what the Ledger Master actually wants—when we’re not standing in a room he’s already watching.”
She hesitates. I don’t blame her. A few minutes ago, I was the enemy—the collector come to drag her before the Ledger Master. Now I’m asking her to trust me, to follow me into the dark streets of a city that wants her dead.
“You could still turn me in.” Her voice is quiet. Thoughtful. “Seven days. You could use that time to deliver me yourself, earn whatever reward the Ledger Master is offering.”
“I could.”
“Why aren’t you?”
The question cuts deeper than she knows. I’ve been asking myself the same thing since I walked through that door and found her crouched against the wall with a sigil burning on her palm. Why didn’t I take her immediately? Why did I hesitate? Why am I standing here now, preparing to betray everything I’ve been?
The answer isn’t simple. Isn’t clean. It’s tangled up in the way she faced me without flinching, the way her scent cuts through decades of numbness, the way she makes me feel like something other than a weapon.
“Because I’m tired of collecting debts that shouldn’t exist.” The words come out strained. Honest in a way I haven’t been honest in decades. “I’m tired of dragging people before the Ledger Master knowing they’ve been cheated, tricked, bound by terms they never understood.” I meet her gaze. “Your mother tried to fix something broken. And I let it stay broken.”
She should hate me for that. Turn away, refuse my help, take her chances alone in a city full of predators.
“Fine.” She pushes off the wall. Squares her shoulders in a way that reminds me of her defiance earlier, that same iron spine. “Take me somewhere safe. Tell me everything—about the Ledger Master, about my mother, about what I am. And then—” Her chin lifts. “Then we find my brother.”
Not a request. An ultimatum. She’s giving me terms, and I realize with something between surprise and admiration that I’m accepting them.
Family.
I haven’t had family in longer than most humans live. Haven’t had anyone worth protecting, anyone worth risking myself for. The orcs in the enforcer barracks aren’t family—they’re colleagues, tools, weapons housed together for convenience. The Ledger Master isn’t family. He’s a master. A chain around my throat disguised as purpose.
This woman is willing to walk into whatever comes next for her brother. A brother who got her into this mess, who signed her life away without asking. She’s either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Possibly both.
“Stay close.” I move past her, taking point. The external stairs are clear—I smell nothing but old wood and older fear. “Don’t speak unless I tell you it’s safe. Don’t touch anything. And if I say run?—”
“I run.” She falls into step behind me. “I understand how survival works, Enforcer. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
Enforcer. Not Rathok. Not even Grimshaw. She’s keeping distance with the title, reminding us both of what I am.
Smart. One of us should remember.
