“Minimum.”
“This place has no respect for warriors.”
“You work here.”
“Yes,” he said darkly. “A long-standing error.”
I ended the call before he could negotiate his way into a chair beside a radio and call that rest.
By the time I returned to my cabin, the sun had cleared the trees and the room had become hostile.
The bed was unmade. My shirt from the night before remained on the chair. The sheet had pulled loose on her side, a sharp diagonal across the mattress, but that was the only disorder she had left behind.
No hair ties. No discarded earrings. No accidental proof.
Juliette Wilder did not leave evidence unless she meant to.
The cabin had reset badly.
I stripped off the clean shirt and stepped into the shower. Hot water hit my shoulder and ran down my back, carrying the smell of smoke, sweat, and antiseptic into the drain. When it struck the bandage, pain flared white enough to empty my lungs.
I braced one hand against the tile.
Excellent. Arm still attached. Standards were slipping.
I changed the dressing one-handed and badly, because asking the clinic nurse to do it would involve a conversation about rest, and I had reached my quota of being correctly diagnosed by intelligent women before eight in the morning.
My phone lit on the sink.
SOFIA:r u awake?
The air in the bathroom changed.
I picked up the phone, thumb damp against the glass.
ME: Always. What’s wrong?
SOFIA: nothing. don’t do ranger panic
ME: That is not a thing.
SOFIA: dad
ME: I’m awake.
Three dots appeared. Vanished. Appeared again.
SOFIA: homecoming is oct 24
I leaned against the sink. The mirror had fogged around my reflection, leaving only a blurred outline of my face.
ME: Okay.
SOFIA: there is a parent thing before the game
ME: What kind of parent thing?
SOFIA: the kind with parents
