“It already threatens her,” he says calmly. “That is why cooperation is advisable.”
My claws flex.
The representative notices and continues speaking anyway, which means either courage or excellent life insurance. “Mr. Lenrog has no current hostility toward Miss Evie. Quite the opposite. He admires community fixtures.”
“That sounds like extortion wrapped in compliments.”
“Vedder City runs on relationships, Mr. Kauss. You know this better than most.”
I take the card.
Not because I agree.
Because refusing changes nothing tonight except the body count.
“Excellent,” the man says softly. “Enjoy the remainder of your evening.”
I watch him walk away without hurry. The other observers drift separately toward different exits, invisible once I know where to look.
Professionals.
Which means Savio Lenrog is interested enough to spend money.
That is never good.
I stand there for several seconds after they leave, staring down at the data card in my palm. The plastic edge bends slightly beneath my grip before I force my hand to loosen.
The date is still alive behind me.
Barely.
I breathe once and turn back toward Evie.
She meets me halfway across the platform, worry written openly across her face. “Who was that?”
“Someone asking questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Work-related.”
She stops walking. “Kauss.”
I hate lying to her.
The realization lands with ugly force because I have lied before. Military necessity. Survival. Interrogation resistance. Operational secrecy. Those lies never felt like betrayal. This one does.
Still, I hear myself say, “Nothing important.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “You look like you’re about to punch architecture.”
“That is temporary.”
“That man scared you.”
“No.”
“Don’t do that.”
