The anger in her voice was controlled, refined into something sharp enough to cut. Jameson recognized it—the same rage that had been eating him alive since childhood.

“Our people,” he corrected, meeting her gaze head on.

“It’s not just that.” She leaned forward, her feet landing on the ground with a loud thud as she lowered her voice. “The Heart isn’t just tightening control on rations, they’re preparing for something. Something big. Veyra presence has doubled at all Cardinal checkpoints. The Cardinal workers assigned to weapons manufacturing posts on the base have not come back for ten days now. They have never kept them overnight before this.”

“Do you know if they are still alive?” Jameson asked.

“Yes.” Her eyes flicked to the window then back to him. “My sources say they are developing something new, something they do not want anyone to know about, so they are quarantining them until it's done.” She swallowed. “But I suspect they will never leave that base alive now that they’ve seen whatever it is with their own eyes.”

Jameson stayed quiet for a long moment, watching as she crushed the remainder of her cigarette. “Cardinal needs to join with us,” he said finally, turning to fully face her. “Your ring has access we don’t—entry points to the Heart, technical expertise, numbers. Combined with Boundary muscle and our network of smugglers . . .” He let the sentence hang.

“You’re talking about open rebellion.” Farrow’s voice was neutral, but her brown eyes were sharp, assessing.

“I’m talking about survival.” Jameson held her gaze. “How long before whatever they’re building at that base is turned on all of us? How many more public executions are we willing to endure? The Boundary’s been fighting back for decades, but we’ve been doing it alone. Imagine what we could accomplish together.”

A holo-ad for Heart-approved entertainment flashed particularly bright, momentarily bathing them both in artificial daylight. In that flash, Jameson caught the full measure of exhaustion in Farrow’s face. She was beautiful. Golden blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, olive toned skin with freckles scattered over its surface, scars covering her body like the rest of them had. That beauty was what made her dangerous, among many other things. She knew how to use it to get into the right rooms, to manipulate men in her favor. Right now, beneath that beauty, all Jameson could see was the pain written in the way she held her shoulders, the exhaustion from carrying the weight of her ring’s suffering. They had that in common.

“I have something to add to your intelligence,” he said, reaching into his pocket and placing a small object on the table—a drone chip no larger than his thumbnail.

Farrow picked it up, examining it closely. “Heart technology, but I have never seen one this small before.”

“That’s because it’s from a new kind of drone. They can collapse in on themselves to get through tight spaces. They’re mapping the Boundary,” Jameson explained. “They started following me a while ago and I’ve seen them every day since. Each one we’ve shot down has the same type of data. They are cataloging every building, every tunnel, every hidden passage. Creating a complete three-dimensional rendering of both rings.”

“For what purpose?”

“That’s the question that keeps me awake at night.” Jameson ran a hand over his face. “You don’t map territory this thoroughly unless you’re planning to do something with it. My guess is whatever they are creating on that base has something to do with it.”

She stayed silent.

“We have to do something.” Jameson leaned closer, urgency bleeding into his voice. “Together we’d have a chance. Real coordination, not just parallel resistance. Your workers could sabotage production lines, create shortages the Heart can’t ignore. The Boundary could hit their patrol and supply routes, their security checkpoints. Force them to spread their resources thin.”

Farrow tilted her head, that birdlike gesture that meant she was truly listening. “And what makes you think the Boundary would follow your lead on this? The Daggermouths have their own agenda.”

“Because the Heart has one of their own.”

“Ah.” Farrow’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “The infamous Shade. The Heart’s newest acquisition happens to be your—what should I call her? Lover? Partner? Weakness?”

“Don’t.” The warning in his voice was clear.

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m simply pointing out that personal vendettas make poor foundations for revolution.”

“This isn’t personal.” A half-truth.

“Everything’s personal when you’re watching your people die.” She leaned back, studying him. “But perhaps that’s what we need. Someone stupid and brave enough to actually pull the trigger.” A pause. “Everyone knows what she did. It’s not spoken of openly, but everyone is singing. Everyone is whispering.”

“I know,” Jameson sighed.

“What’s your plan for her?” Farrow asked, rolling her neck.

A muscle in Jameson’s jaw twitched. “We are going in tonight. Jaeger, myself, plus a small Daggermouth unit.”

“That’s fucking suicide, Jay.” She couldn’t hide the shock from her face. “You’ll die before you make it to the first checkpoint out of the Cardinal.”

“I’m done arguing this with everyone,” Jameson snapped. “It’s happening. I won’t let her rot away in the Heart.”

“Touching.” Her tone was dry, but something in her expression softened fractionally. “I’ll consider your alliance proposal. If you survive tonight’s stupidity, we’ll talk terms.”

She stood, moving toward the door. “I’ll try to get additional shipments to the Boundary in the meantime. Food, medical supplies, water. But I can’t promise anything.”

Jameson rose, checking his watch. six hours until the extraction. Until he either had Shadera back or died trying.

“Kes.” She paused at his voice. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. If you die tonight, I’ll have to work with Rook, and neither of us wants that.” She pulled the door open as Jameson smiled at the comment. The two of them had never seemed to get along, even when they were running the streets together decades ago. “Be careful. The Heart is changing. Becoming more unpredictable.”

“Dying beasts often are,” he replied, then slipped past her out of the room.

The rooftop gardens of Serel Tower existed in defiance of the ugliness they grew above. Greyson sat on a bench between their perfectly maintained rows, watching the surveillance drones above circle in predictable patterns. He counted them out of habit—seventeen visible from this vantage point, another thirty hidden between buildings.

His eyes fell to his boots where blood was still splattered from the morning’s duties. He flexed his hands, feeling the phantom weight of his gun, hearing the echo of his voice pronouncing the sentences. Three more families shattered. Three more reasons the rings would celebrate his death. His uniform chafed against his injured shoulder, the fabric stiff and unforgiving. He should have changed, but after the platform, after watching the light leave those men’s eyes—he needed air. Needed distance from his world.

This was the farthest he could get.

Greyson closed his eyes, trying to push away the image of the young man barely out of his teens, executed for “association with dissident elements.” No evidence presented. No defense permitted. Just another body falling to the platform floor as he pulled the trigger.

Slowly he pushed his eyes back open, focusing on the gardens instead of his thoughts. Like him, they existed in an artificial environment, sustained by resources stolen from others.

He hadn’t spoken to Shadera since she’d cleaned his wound, since her fingers had traced the Executioner’s mark on his back, since she’d seen the evidence of his father’s lessons mapped across his skin. The memory of her touch lingered, unwanted but persistent. The gentleness in those hands that had tried to kill him.