I was so grateful for my friends in that moment, more than words could ever express. They gently steered me into a narrow alley, away from the street, and wrapped their arms around me as I let everything pour out. My tears fell freely, and each sob stole my breath like a punch to the gut. Morgana pulled me into her chest, her fingers threading through my hair as she whispered, “Let it out, just let it all out.” Dillon stood beside us, rubbing my back and murmuring reassurances that everything was going to be okay.

  And for the first time in a long time, I believed him.

  Being this vulnerable would’ve terrified me once. But here, in their arms, it felt safe. Soothing. Healing. Especially when I thought about the reason I was crying in the first pce. The contrast between their warmth and the cold violence of my father hit me like a second wave. I sobbed harder. Not just because of what happened, but because I knew what I’d been missing my whole life. Just a moment of this kind of compassion from him would’ve changed everything.

  How different would my life be if I hadn’t been raised by a bully? If I’d been shown even a fraction of the love Morgana and Dillon gave so freely?

  I don’t know how long I cried. Time seemed to dissolve into the comfort of their presence. Eventually, though, the sobs tapered off. My breathing evened out. My throat was raw and my face felt like it had been through a sandstorm, but the tears had run dry. More importantly, I felt… whole again. Not fixed. But in control.

  “You feeling better?” Morgana asked softly, her voice low and kind.

  I wiped at my nose with the back of my sleeve. “Yeah. Thanks, guys. Sorry for… all that.”

  Dillon gave me a light punch on the arm. “Don’t be stupid. You earned that cry. It’s been a heavy day, and that was a heavy moment.”

  I gave a small ugh, half embarrassed, half grateful. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I appreciate both of you.”

  “Aww,” Morgana said, and gave me another tight squeeze.

  I slowly got to my feet, feeling the ache in my legs as I stretched them out. I wasn’t even sure when I’d hit the ground. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was standing again.

  “We’ve still got time to get to Marky’s, right?” I asked, gncing at the street beyond the alley’s mouth.

  “I think so,” Morgana replied. “But we can go home first, if you want.”

  It was tempting. The idea of colpsing into the hideout and letting this day fade into memory had its appeal. But I shook my head. I wanted this done. We’d come this far, and the sooner we handed off the goods, the sooner we could begin whatever came next.

  “Nah. Let’s get to Marky’s and wrap this up.”

  Morgana gave me a gentle side hug as we stepped out of the alley, and Dillon nodded with a quiet smile. No more words needed. Just steady footsteps toward the final leg of this long, strange day.

  We reached Marky’s pawnshop a little past midnight. The streets were nearly silent now, shadows clinging to buildings like they didn’t want to be disturbed. But we knew Marky. He was a night owl through and through. We’d often joked he might actually be nocturnal, or some kind of nocturne spirit in disguise. We even had bets on whether he actually slept or just closed his eyes to recharge like a relic mp.

  As we approached the door, I paused and turned to Morgana. “Do I look okay?” I asked. “I don’t want him to know I’ve been crying.”

  She leaned in, squinting, but then shook her head. “It’s too dark to tell. Besides, who cares what he thinks?”

  She was right. It didn’t really matter anymore. I’d already made up my mind: I was leaving this life behind. That included Marky. I didn’t want to py pawn to someone else’s games anymore. I wanted to build something of my own. Something honest. Something my mother would’ve been proud of.

  With that thought in mind, I stepped up and rang the bell.

  The door opened half a second ter, before the chime had even faded.

  Marky had been waiting.

  “Well, well, well,” Marky drawled, stepping aside with a grin that could cut gss. “If it isn’t my favourite little troublemakers. Come in, come in. We’ll talk in the back.”

  We filed into the shop, careful not to bump any shelves or knock over his precious stock. Marky’s pawnshop was packed with junk disguised as treasure, and I knew better than to brush up against anything. If I so much as grazed a chipped vase or tilted a trinket the wrong way, he’d cim I broke it and demand payment. Slimeball that he was, he never missed an opportunity to earn.

  He led us through the shop into the back office, where we colpsed into our usual spots on the mismatched sofas. We slung the heavy bags onto the coffee table with a satisfying thud.

  Marky’s eyes locked onto the bags like a hawk spotting prey. Then he looked at us – really looked – and his grin stretched wider than I’d ever seen. Without a word, he pulled a pouch from his jacket and tossed it my way.

  Normally, it would’ve been rude to count the payment in front of him. It implied mistrust, and Marky was prickly about etiquette when it came to deals. But this time? The way he smiled, the way he watched me with amusement in his eyes, I could tell he wanted me to open it.

  I shifted one of the bags aside and untied the pouch, letting the coins spill onto the table. My eyebrows rose immediately. There were far more than thirty coins here. My best guess? Close to a hundred.

  Marky ughed at my expression, clearly pleased with himself. “There’s ninety-nine,” he said before I could ask. “I was gonna make it a clean hundred, but I figured you three would fight over that st one, and you know how I feel about chipped coins.”

  “Why so much extra?” I asked, still staring at the pile. “That’s more than triple what we agreed.”

  He raised his brows and gave a mock gasp. “Oh no, do you want me to take it back?” He reached out as if to grab the pouch again.

  “Whoa, I didn’t say that,” I said quickly, snatching it back protectively. “We’re… very grateful for the bonus. Just surprised, is all.”

  “You kids did well,” he said simply. “Very well. We all know this job had yers, plots within plots and all that. The mess you made served me nicely, and that kind of chaos deserves reward.”

  He sat down on the edge of his desk, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. “I’m a tight old bastard, sure. But I’m not a stupid one. Nor have I gone soft.” He pointed a finger at us, his tone sharpening. “What I’ve learned in my long life is that there’s a minimum a person can be paid before they become… disgruntled. Some workers, you can treat like trash and it won’t matter. They’ll keep coming back. Those are the ones you can repce with a snap of your fingers.”

  He looked at me directly. “That was you, when you first started.”

  It stung a little… Until I realised he wasn’t wrong. Back then, we were just another group of hungry kids looking for scraps of opportunity. We had nothing to offer but avaibility.

  “But today,” he continued, “you showed me something different. You showed me you’re not the muck anymore. You’ve got skill. Nerve. Value. That makes you dangerous in the best possible way.”

  He stood and began pacing lightly in front of the desk. “Despite my reputation, I like to think I’m an honest man.”

  Of all the things Marky could’ve said, that was the one I found myself agreeing with the most.

  Not that he was virtuous. Far from it. But there was an honesty to his dishonesty. You knew what you were getting with Marky. He didn’t pretend to be your friend. He didn’t pretend to be fair. He tried to haggle you down, mislead you with omission, even sell you bad information. But he never lied about who he was.

  There wasn’t a twist with him. No mask. He was a crook, and he’d tell you so before he picked your pocket. That, in a weird way, made him more trustworthy than most.

  “And so, I’ll be honest with you here,” Marky said, twirling the dagger between his fingers. “You three have made me a lot of money.”

  He paused to let that settle in.

  “More than you’re thinking right now. But you’re smart. You’ll piece it together soon enough. There’ll be rumours. Gossip. Bits of news, drips of information. It’ll all start coming together, and then–” he pointed the dagger at Dillon “--you’ll realise the part you pyed. Not the biggest part, mind you. But important.”

  His voice took on weight. Gone was the jovial bonus-giver from earlier. This was the Marky the underworld knew. The one who’d earned his reputation in blood and coin.

  “And then you’ll start thinking. About your cut. About your retionship with me. About your future in this business.”

  He flipped the dagger in his hand, catching it by the hilt. The steel glinted under the hanging light.

  “There are usually two ways this goes. The first is the easy route. The one you use when the muck starts to stink.”

  He turned the dagger toward Morgana.

  “And what do you do when the muck starts to stink up the pce?”

  Morgana swallowed. “You… you take it out.”

  Marky smiled, and it wasn’t the charming kind he used to disarm us. This was the smile of a man who had buried people and slept well after doing it.

  “That’s right. You take it out.”

  Silence fell like a curtain. My muscles coiled. Just as I began to think I might have to make the first move, he continued.

  “The second way?” he said, now pointing the bde at Dillon again. “That’s the one you use with people who are valuable. People who’ve earned their pce. People who might actually make me more money alive than dead.”

  He gave a softer smile now. Still sharp, still calcuting, but no longer threatening.

  “You’ve proven yourselves today. And I don’t want to have to take the first route. So let’s take the second. That means when you do finally figure out what all this was really about, there won’t be any compints about being underpaid. Got it?”

  This time, the bde swung toward me.

  I met his eyes. Held them.

  I don’t know what made me do it. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was principle, maybe it was my own ego. Whatever it was, I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. I looked straight into the predator’s eyes and said, “Then it sounds to me like ninety-nine coins isn’t going to cut it.”

  I heard both Morgana and Dillon inhale sharply. The cushions shifted as they instinctively leaned away. I knew they were worried, but I wasn’t bluffing. Marky didn’t talk like this if all he made was pocket change. This was a negotiation. One wrapped in threat, sure, but a negotiation nonetheless.

  Marky didn’t blink either. For a long, long moment, we just stared.

  My eyes began to sting.

  Then his grin bloomed again, and he barked a ugh.

  “See? No longer muck.”

  He stood, crossed the space between us, and cmped a hand on my shoulder. His grip was like iron.

  “You ever stare me down like that again,” he said, his voice low, “and I’ll bury you. Understood?”

  I nodded. Fast.

  He let out another ugh and shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you had the guts to pull that. Today’s got your blood pumping, huh?”

  “Something like that,” I replied, exhaling.

  “I’m open to renegotiating,” he said, still grinning. “What number did you have in mind?”

  “How much did you make today?” I asked.

  He raised a brow. “Not telling you that. I’ve already been far too generous.”

  Dillon, quiet until now, finally found his voice. “H-how will we… know if it’s fair if we don’t know what we’re working from?”

  Marky shrugged. “That’s the game. I’ve made my offer. You can take it or not. I’m not in the habit of giving away all my profit.”

  An idea hit me, one that would py into our long-term pns but before I could speak, Dillon beat me to it.

  “How about better rates for the goods we brought in today?” he asked.

  Brilliant.

  Normally, Marky lowballed us hard when we sold him loot. That was just the deal. We both knew there was nowhere else for us to go with our stolen goods so we didn’t have room to negotiate. But if we could improve our take on what we were turning in now, and even get a boost on future sales? That would stack up quick. Dillon, who’d done most of the looting, must have a rough idea of how valuable this batch really was.

  Marky narrowed his eyes, looking at the bags again. I could see the wheels turning.

  Dillon didn’t let up. “We all know you sell everything for at least four times what you buy it for. You’ve got wiggle room.”

  Marky gave him a long, calcuting look. “How much extra are we talking?”

  “For this lot? Double our usual rate,” Dillon said confidently. The fledgling businessman comfortable now he had leverage. “And one and a half times for future sales.”

  Marky ughed. “Double? No chance. Storage space isn’t free, you know. Have you seen how much crap I’ve got out there? Some of it’s been sitting for years.”

  Dillon nodded, undeterred. “Take a look. This haul isn’t the usual junk. It’ll sell fast. You might even be able to offload it in Hansen.”

  This was Dillon in his element. Rexed posture, steady voice, that slight smile like he was holding all the cards. Gone was the shaky kid from minutes ago. This was a trader negotiating from strength.

  Marky grabbed one of the bags. I quickly scooped the spilled coins off the table, just in case things got messy.

  He opened the bag and started pulling items out, one by one.

  Fine jewellery. Silks. A solid silver snuffbox. An ivory comb. A couple of items I didn’t even recognise but judging by the way Marky’s eyes widened, he did. His expression shifted with every piece, the gleam of greed growing brighter.

  “And here was me thinking I was the one who hit the jackpot today,” Marky said with a grin.

  “The way I see it, you are,” I replied. “You’ve got whatever this mysterious job paid, and now you’re double-dipping with the loot.”

  Marky let out a genuine ugh. “I still can’t believe it. You three fought your way through an entire train and evaded multiple ptoons... all while lugging these bags?”

  “Multiple ptoons?” I asked, frowning. “You serious?”

  He chuckled. “Ha! You didn’t even notice? Maybe that’s thanks to Erick. But yeah, hundreds of soldiers patrolling the streets, checkpoints everywhere, all of them trying to sniff you out. And after seeing this haul? I get it. Honestly, you’re probably going to have bounties on your heads by morning, given the size of the search.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  I wasn’t exactly a stranger to ying low, but bounties were a different game. A well-drawn likeness, a couple of persistent hunters, and life got complicated fast. Still, if we pyed it smart, kept our heads down, and let time do its work, the heat would cool. It usually did. Most bounties fizzled out after a month or two when easier prey came along.

  “Do we have a deal, then?” Dillon asked, steering the conversation back to the goods.

  Marky looked up at him with a wide smile. “Yeah, why not. I’m in a generous mood, and you’re right that this stuff will move quick. Quality like this? I’ll clear most of it in a week, easy. Might even flip a few pieces back to the original owners for a premium. People’ll pay anything for sentiment.”

  Dillon grinned and stuck out his hand. They shook on it, sealing the deal.

  I still didn’t know the full value of what we’d lifted, but judging by their exchange, and Marky’s face, we were all about to get very rich.

  “You’ve got a lot of bits and pieces in here,” Marky said, nodding at the bags. “It’s going to take time to sort out pricing. And I already know you’re going to argue with me about some of it,” he added with a gnce at Dillon.

  He wasn’t wrong. Dillon’s sharp eye and relentless bartering made him a pain to haggle with and Marky already knew it.

  “It’s te,” Marky continued, “and I can see the exhaustion written all over Brandon’s face.”

  I instinctively sat up straighter, like I could somehow deny it through posture. That just made him ugh harder.

  “Go home. Get some sleep. Come back tomorrow and we’ll price everything properly. Before you ask – no, I won’t be taking anything without your knowledge, and no, you’re not getting colteral. I’ve been more than generous tonight. You’ll have to trust me.”

  Dillon grumbled, but didn’t press. None of us really thought Marky would rob us but I knew Dillon would’ve loved the symbolism of walking out with a piece of colteral. To him, that would’ve been like nding a solid jab in a fight. A little moral victory.

  We said our goodbyes and stepped back into the night.

  It felt good to walk without the weight of the bags. With our hands free, we took the quicker routes. Scaling fences, hopping rooftops, cutting through hidden alleys. It was like stretching after being cramped up for too long.

  Despite the excitement bubbling under the surface, we kept mostly quiet. Something about the silence at this hour, the way the city seemed to breathe slower… it made you want to whisper, if speak at all. That, and the bounty talk. We didn’t want to draw any more attention than we already had.

  When we reached the tunnel, I didn’t say a word. I was done. Utterly spent.

  I dropped onto my mattress and let it swallow me.

  The st thing I heard was Morgana and Dillon whispering in the corner. I could feel their eyes flick to me now and then, probably checking if I was still awake. They were trying not to disturb me, but I knew exactly what they were whispering about.

  The future.

  Our future.

  Our pockets were full. Our hands were free.

  I fell asleep with a smile on my face, safe in the knowledge that our lives were about to change forever.