Page 240 of Reaper Said Mine

He looks pleased, then immediately ruins it by speaking again. “The question is whether he knows it’s a leash.”

“He does.”

“Then maybe that matters.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe is better than nope.”

I sip the caf. It is truly terrible. Bitter, thin, and somehow grainy.

“God, this is awful.”

“I promised terrible caf.”

“You delivered.”

“Journalistic integrity.”

I rest my head back against the wall and close my eyes. The rain keeps falling. The office behind us keeps humming. Somewhere across the galaxy, Guyver Station holds its breath under treaty banners and shield light while Alliance planners draw routes through contested space.

The war is still coming.

My exposé is still incomplete.

Gnash is still making decisions I may not see until the galaxy announces them for him.

And I am still here, holding evidence in one hand and heartbreak in the other, trying to decide whether understanding someone means knowing what they will do or knowing why they did the thing that wounded you.

I open my eyes.

“Bellamy.”

“Yeah?”

“Get the intervention packet ready.”

His expression sharpens. “You want to go after the Alliance next.”

“I want to go after every lie in the room.”

“That is a crowded room.”

“Then we’d better speak loudly.”

He pushes away from the wall, tired grin returning. “There she is.”

I follow him back toward the office, where screens wait, threats wait, and the next version of the truth waits to be dragged into light.

Before I step through the door, my compad vibrates one more time.

Gnash.

Whatever they say, little reporter, do not let them make you doubt your own eyes. They are sharper than mine.

I stare at the message.

For one fragile second, I let myself love him without solving him.