“You fixed Mr. Eddison’s heater for free.”
“He would have frozen.”
“You walked a lost kid home in the rain.”
“He was six.”
I grin. “Case closed.”
Kauss looks down at me with that same helpless expression he gets whenever I corner him emotionally. “You weaponize observation.”
“You make it easy.”
The front bell rings hard enough to cut through the moment.
Not the normal cheerful jingle.
A violent metallic slam.
Kauss goes still instantly.
So do I.
The bakery quiets by degrees as the Poison Memories walk inside.
Five of them this time.
Not Ron.
Worse, somehow.
Ron arrives loud and theatrical, all ego and performance. These men enter calm. Smirking. Purple gang colors hidden beneath coats but visible enough for everyone in Halo to recognize. The customers nearest the door stop talkingimmediately. Mrs. Pell grips her coffee mug tighter. Al’s face hardens near the booth.
Kauss steps slightly in front of me without conscious thought.
The leader grins when he sees it.
“Well, damn,” he says loudly. “Bakery got itself a guard dog.”
No one answers.
The gang members spread out slowly through the room, not openly violent yet, just contaminating the atmosphere with threat. One knocks a tip jar sideways with his elbow and laughs when coins scatter across the floor.
Darlene crushes her cigarette into a tray. “You boys lost?”
“Nah.” The leader’s eyes slide toward Kauss. “We came to see the dragon.”
Kauss’s entire body tightens.
I touch his arm lightly. “Kauss.”
He does not look at me.
The leader strolls closer, hands in his pockets. Young. Human. Thin scar across his chin. Too much confidence for someone standing this close to a Vakutan heavy assault veteran.
Then I remember.
Lenrog.
