“Do not apologize for him.”
“I was not there.”
“You were with Lenrog because you were trying to protect us from exactly this kind of thing.”
“I failed.”
Her grip tightens painfully for a human hand. “No.”
“Evie—”
“No. I’m going to say this once, and you are going to listen with all four lungs.” Her eyes shine, but her voice stays firm. “Ron did this. Lenrog built the ugly little kingdom that made Ron possible. The gang helped. The city ignored. You did not kidnap me. You did not hit me. You did not hurt Darlene. You came for me.”
The skiff arrives before I can answer, washing us in white light.
She stands, still holding my hand. “Come on.”
The ride back to Halo feels suspended outside normal time. Few passengers speak. A drunk man snores near the rear. A woman in work scrubs watches Evie’s bruise, then looks at me and quickly looks away. I want to tell her I am not the reason for it.
I do not, because in some ways I am part of the reason.
Evie rests her head against my arm midway through the ride. Not asleep. Just tired enough to choose me as support without asking permission from fear.
The gesture nearly breaks me.
When we reach Sweet Tooth, Darlene is waiting outside under the rear awning with a plasma wrench in one hand and a bandage wrapped around her shoulder.
Evie rushes forward. “Darlene.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.”
“I am seventy-one. Fine is a rumor.”
“You’re hurt.”
“And you’re kidnapped less than expected, so we’re both ahead.”
Evie throws her arms around her carefully. Darlene makes a grumbling sound but holds her tight with her good arm.
Her eyes meet mine over Evie’s shoulder.
“Anyone dead?” she asks.
“No.”
“Shame, but mature.”
“Ron is being removed from Halo.”
Darlene’s mouth twists. “By his father?”
“Yes.”
“That’ll go great. Nothing bad ever happens when powerful men punish sons in private.”
Her instincts are unpleasantly accurate.
