“Which is also personal.”
“Yes,” he says. “Just for a different reason.”
I press my hands flat against my thighs.
The old Alliance was volatile, loud, and they operated through fear, presence, and the brute fact of their willingness to escalate. This version is more patient. Sending numbers through back channels and waiting to see what moves, like they already know they can outlast you if they wait long enough.
“They think we’ll sell,” I say. It’s not a question.
“They think pressure makes people practical,” Sin replies. There’s no judgment in it, just the flat, honest recognition of howit must look from the outside. To someone watching through a shell company three layers deep, it probably reads like an opportunity. A woman stepping into a mining company, timing that lines up a little too neatly.
They don’t know the real reason.
They don’t know that the only reason I have to step up is that my father is dying.
And even if they did…
Even if that’s exactly why they’re coming for us.
Theydon’tknow my father.
Theydon’tknow what he built, why he built it, what it cost him, and what he put inside the walls of it that can’t be extracted, valued, and routed through an offshore account. They don’t know I’ve watched him show up for that mine for fourteen years, through bad yields, hard winters, and the loneliness of building something for someone who isn’t there to see it anymore.
“We’re not selling!” I say.
Sin holds my gaze, and something in his expression settles. “No,” he agrees. “We’re not.”
I stand up.
The decision doesn’t feel dramatic or like a declaration. It just feels like the only available truth, the same truth my father has been living every morning before sunrise for nearly two decades, the only response to being faced with the weight of something that matters.
You show up anyway.
“Will’s taking you home,” Sin says.
“I know,” I reply.
I walk back out into the noise of the clubroom, and the ordinary warmth of it hits me first, and somewhere across the room, Will is already watching the door. He’s leaning against the far wall, helmet hooked over one wrist, his gaze scanningthe room in that deliberate way he has when he’s waiting for something specific.
For someone.
For me.
The moment he spots me, his posture changes, subtle but unmistakable, like a line drawn taut inside him has just been released.
Will crosses to me without urgency or hesitation. “You ready?” he asks.
I search his face for a beat longer than the question requires. “You know?” I say hesitantly.
Of course, Sin informed him of the Alliance’s bid on the mine before he told me.
His jaw tightens just enough to answer, “Yeah.”
A small exhale leaves me, something between relief and resignation. “Okay.”
Will doesn’t ask what was said. He doesn’t offer reassurances he can’t back up. He simply rests his hand briefly at the small of my back, a steadying pressure that feels less like comfort and more like alignment.
We say quick goodnights that blur into the background. Deek calls something out that might be a joke. Ro lifts a hand. Marley smiles at me as if she knows more than she’s saying.
