Renn leans against the wall, his breathing uneven as his eyes dart between us.
“I told you, I don’t know anything,” he says, his voice cracking.
I turn back to him.
“You’re scared,” I say. “That means youdoknow something.”
“I don’t?—”
“You do,” I press. “And whatever you’re afraid of is worse than us.”
That lands.
I see it in the way his expression falters, the way his gaze drops for a second before snapping back up.
Hrask steps closer, his presence filling the space behind me.
“She’s right,” he says. “And if you keep stalling, you’re going to run out of chances to prove it.”
I shoot him a look.
“That’s enough.”
“What?” he says. “I’m agreeing with you.”
“Don’t twist it.”
“I’m not twisting anything,” he replies. “I’m just saying it in a way he understands.”
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair as I look back at Renn.
“What did you see?” I ask again, quieter now.
Renn hesitates.
Then—
“They move people,” he says.
The words come out fast, like he’s trying to get them out before he can stop himself.
“Through the blind zones,” he continues. “Between sectors. No records. No logs.”
My chest tightens.
“Where do they go?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I swear, I don’t. I just move the crates. Sometimes they’re heavier than they should be.”
“Alive?” I press.
He swallows hard.
“Sometimes,” he says.
Silence settles heavy in the room.
I feel Hrask shift behind me, the tension in his posture tightening.
