"Tribute," Alexei repeated from three feet away, voice like a butter knife. "Your list was generous: trucks, supplies, and the woman."
The man flinched. "We don't choose the list."
"Who does?"
"The General's people," he blurted again, eyes flicking to the black flag like the paint might hide behind it. "Dogs South brings it through. We just—"
"Hold and bleed," Elias finished for him without looking up.
Zubair crouched on Sera's other side and let heat tick the kid's face without burning. "Where next?"
"Next?"
"The place you push everyone after this point," Sera clarified, patience a blade she sharpened with each syllable. "You drive men with trucks and women with pulses. Where do they go?"
The kid's throat worked. "Gate Nine."
"Describe it."
"Big," he whispered, like the word had size. "Concrete. Two towers. You pull into lanes and give what you have left. If you don't have enough you… you don't go on."
