Which is probably why I don’t slam the door in the exec’s face when he shows up three hours later.
He looks completely out of place—shiny boots, tailored jacket, augmented smile. I can smell the cologne from behind the security chain. “Miss Rin,” he says, already leaning into charm mode. “First of all, thrilled you’re alive. The studio’s been trying to find you for months. I’m Dalt Vens. Planetary Pictures.”
I narrow my eyes. “No thank you.”
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“You’re going to offer me something I don’t want.”
He grins. “A chance to tell your story. Control the narrative. HoloNet rumors are already painting wild versions of what happened in the Maze—cult infiltration, off-world espionage, even psychic warfare.”
I snort. “Not psychic warfare.”
“But wouldn’t it be great if it was?” he says with a wink.
I start to close the door.
“Wait—wait. Just listen. One holo-film. You write it, star in it, tell it the wayyoulived it. We’ll keep you in creative control. Think of it as reclaiming the truth.”
“I’m not an actress,” I snap. “I’m not a writer. I’m a?—”
And that’s where my voice catches. Because I don’t know what I am anymore.
Behind me, Pepper toddles into view, blinking up at the stranger with half her bacon still in one hand. The sight of her sends a spike of anxiety straight through my chest. Her eyes are dull brown under the inducer—but her posture, her focus, her stillness? All Reaper.
Dalt glances at her. “Cute kid.”
“Not for sale.”
He lifts his hands. “Gods, no. I’m not here for a family drama. I just want you. The Maze. The truth. It’s good holo. Powerful. Marketable.”
I close the door slowly.
Lock it.
Then press my forehead to the steel and let my breath shudder out.
I turn around.
My eyes land on the counter, where the bills are stacked like judgment. Past due notices. Power usage red-flagged. IHC inquiries about the forged ID work I’ve done to keep Pepper’s health records legal.
I shuffle to the couch and sit. Pepper climbs up next to me and tucks herself against my side like she can feel how heavy the moment is.
“I know you don’t understand yet,” I murmur into her hair, “but I can’t keep hiding you like this forever. The world’s gonna want answers. They’re gonna want blood.”
She makes a tiny noise and curls into me tighter.
The blinking red on her image inducer pulses in the corner of my eye.
And just like that, the decision’s made. Not because I want to. But because Ihaveto.
I reach for my comm and call the number Dalt left on the flier he tried to pass through the crack in the door.
He picks up immediately. “Miss Rin?—”
“I’ll do it,” I say.
A beat of silence.
