Page 307 of Reaper Said Mine

"That's a lot of assholes."

"Professional assessment?"

"Extremely."

I laugh, and the sound feels unfamiliar enough that it catches my attention. I haven't laughed much lately. Between investigations, injuries, and near-death experiences, humor has become a luxury.

Rana points toward one section of the display.

"Dawson's people still trying to pressure sources?"

"Constantly."

"Threats?"

"Some."

"Bribes?"

"More than some."

She nods thoughtfully.

"Good."

I turn toward her.

"Good?"

"It means they're scared."

She takes another sip of caf and shrugs.

"If they weren't scared, they wouldn't be scrambling."

I hate how reasonable that sounds.

The room's main entrance slides open with a soft mechanical hiss. Several analysts glance up immediately. I don't bother. The shift in atmosphere tells me everything I need to know before I even look. Conversations quiet. Attention sharpens. Tension spreads through the room with remarkable speed.

Only one person creates that reaction.

Dawson.

Of course.

My former mentor enters surrounded by two assistants and enough confidence to qualify as a navigational hazard. He looks immaculate, as always. His suit is perfectly pressed. His posture is flawless. His professional smile appears carefully calibrated to inspire trust and authority. He looks like someone who has never had to crawl through a damaged ship while under fire, and somehow that detail irritates me more than it should.

His eyes find mine immediately.

Not surprising.

He came here for me.

Wonderful.

Rana notices him too.

"Oh look."