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“You don’t know my brother.”

“Whole quarter knows your brother.” Which is true. That’s why the cake is in my hand and why nobody on this crew has ever logged the shifts I’ve cut short to get Onyx to the clinic.

They cover it, and I cover theirs. I guess that’s the closest we have to fairness on Calder.

“Mercer!” The foreman’s voice cuts through the mine noise. He’s standing on the catwalk above us, one thick hand wrapped around the railing. “Boss wants to see you.”

Everything inside me goes still. Kellan’s hand drops from my shoulder. “...Now?”

The foreman nods. “Now.”

The debt.

Mrs. Varga was right. Vasco didn’t send men to the apartment just to be polite.

I toss the rag aside and hand Kellan the wrench. My stomach has already started doing the math. We don’t have enough. We don’t have enough. “If I’m not back before shift change, finish the south scrubber.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back.”

Following the foreman, I shove the fear down. Men like Vasco smell panic before they smell anything else. I won’t give him that.

Crossing the catwalk above the main shaft, drills bite into the rock far below, sparks flashing through red dust. Conveyor belts rattle beneath us under the weight of fresh ore, while heat rolls up from the lower levels. At the far end, dark-glass offices overlook the mine from polished concrete, watching men who go home the color of rust.

The foreman scratches at the back of his neck without looking at me. “You hear the rumors?”

“What rumors?”

“They say Vasco lost the company.”

I glance sideways at him. “He lost it?”

He shrugs. “Gambled it away, apparently. Half the shift says it’s bullshit. The other half reckons some rich bastard from Tempest cleaned him out in one night.”

Hope punches through before I can stop it.

Could it be true? Could Vasco really be gone? Would what I owe disappear with him?

Then reality catches up. Debt always outlasts the owner.

We stop outside the office door, and the foreman raps against the frame. “Sir? Mercer’s here.”

A voice answers from inside. “Send him in.”

The foreman steps aside and gives my shoulder a single pat. “Good luck, Mercer. Don’t let the bastard get to you.”

“Thanks.”

Drawing a slow breath, I open the door. I’ve been here before. Vasco prefers people to climb the stairs to him, standing exactly where I am now as he reminds them what they owe. And I owe a lot. On the walk in, I search for another excuse, another promise, another week. Anything that buys Onyx a little more time.

Then I catch cedar and clean soap where only dust and machine oil should be. My eyes lift from black trousers to the hand resting on the desk, then to broad shoulders and dark hair, until I’m staring at the man from the cave standing behind Vasco’s desk.

Asher Clement the Third.

Another man sits off to one side. I recognize him too. He was with Asher at the hospital, standing behind him when he came after me.

My gaze returns to the man who’s been hunting my dreams since Tempest. His head is bare now, no visor to hide the hard lines of his face. No rain darkening his hair. No blood. Just a crisp black suit, fitted across broad shoulders, the collar open at his throat.

“Wh-what are... you doing here?”