“There’s a transfer point,” I say. “Unmarked. Hidden in the blind zone.”
His expression sharpens immediately.
“Moving what?” he asks.
“People,” I reply.
That lands.
“Alive?” he asks.
“I didn’t get close enough to check.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That makes sense.”
I study him for a moment, something shifting in my chest that I don’t like.
“I needed that distraction,” I say.
“I figured.”
“You didn’t hesitate.”
“No,” he says.
“Why?”
He tilts his head slightly, like the answer should be obvious.
“Because you asked,” he says.
That shouldn’t matter.
It does.
I look away first, forcing my attention back to the line, back to the routine that’s starting to feel more like a cover than a job.
“This just got bigger,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “It did.”
I hesitate, then add, “I couldn’t have gotten that without you.”
The words feel heavier than they should.
He doesn’t respond right away.
When I glance back at him, his expression has shifted, just slightly, something quieter settling behind it.
“Don’t get used to it,” he says.
“Wasn’t planning to.”
But as I move down the line again, my focus sharper, my awareness split between the fence and the space beyond it?—
I realize I already am.
CHAPTER 8
