He claps me lightly on the shoulder—carefully, but still enough to make me wince.
His grin falters for half a second. “Still breathing, though,” he adds, softer. “That’s something.”
“Low bar,” I mutter.
“Still counts.”
I shift slightly, easing my weight back against the stone wall near the exit passage. The air here is cooler, a faint draft slipping in from the tunnel that leads up and out towards the bowling alley. It carries the scent of open air, dust, and something metallic coming through the reinforced entry beyond.
Close enough to the outside to feel it, but not close enough to see it.
“How long you been up?” Sonny asks, leaning back beside me.
“Ten minutes.”
“And you’re already wandering the tunnels like a problem?”
“Couldn’t stay in that room another second,” I say. “I was about to start counting cracks in the ceiling.”
“You say that like it’s not a legitimate pastime.”
“It’s not.”
“Debatable.”
I huff a quiet laugh, then shift my stance again, ignoring the pull in my ribs. “Where’s Varek?”
Sonny’s grin shifts. Not gone—just… tempered. There’s a flicker of something more aware behind it now. “Busy.”
“Yeah, I figured that much.”
“Rebellion and all that,” he says lightly. “Bit of a full-time gig.”
I glance past him towards the exit corridor. There’s more movement than I remember from years ago. People coming and going. Supplies being moved. Weapons being checked, passed off, adjusted.
It’s not chaos. But it’s close enough to tension that it might tip if something pushes it.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Sonny follows my gaze. “Same shit, different day,” he says. “Crown’s tightening patrols. More checkpoints in the city. More disappearances.”
My jaw flexes. “Figures.”
“Plus,” he adds, quieter now, “everyone’s a bit on edge after… you know.”
I raise a brow. “After the part where the Queen used me as bait?”
“Yeah, that bit.”
“Charming.”
“Right?”
I glance back at him. “And you’re all just… carrying on, pretending like everything’s normal?”
He snorts. “Thisisnormal.”
Fair.
