The transport was moving fast. I could feel it in my bones — the hum of the engine, the vibration of the floor, the way the walls shook when we hit a bump. Heading east. Toward Sector 1. Toward Malachi.
Kang was pressed against the far wall. Sweating. His empty rifle lay on the floor between us. He kept looking at it, then at me, then at the door. Like a rat choosing between three bad options.
Silk sat on a bench bolted to the wall. Legs crossed. Hands folded in her lap. Silk gloves covering the burns on her fingers. Calm. Patient. The kind of calm that came from knowing exactly how the story ended because she'd written it herself.
"You set this up," I said.
"I set this up," Silk agreed. No shame. No hesitation. Just a fact. Like saying the sky was grey.
"The factory. The drones. Kang running. All of it was bait."
