The Veins pulsed with a low vibration, like the walls themselves were breathing secrets. The glow of half-dead screens flickered across jagged steel, each monitor caught between dying sparks and stubborn life.
whirr… buzz…
Kara leaned against the console, bandaged arm folded tight across her chest. The bruises had darkened along her jaw, but her eyes carried that same defiant fire barely controlled. "You can't keep running plays in the dark forever," she said. "If you want this to work, you're going to have to trust me."
I smirked, letting the words roll out smoothly. "Funny. The last person who asked for my trust didn't make it through the week. You volunteering for the same slot?"
clink… drip…
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't flinch. That was the problem with survivors they always thought scars made them invincible. They mistake endurance for strategy, pain for wisdom.
"You think this war is going to end with just you and your riddles?" she pressed. "The factions are cracking. If you want leverage, you need someone inside the gaps. Someone who can move where you can't."
I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch until it pressed on the air like weight. The sound of gears grinding faintly in the walls filled the space she was so desperate to occupy.
grind… hum…
Push for trust is predictable. Same move, different player. Rook taught me early everyone who pushes for trust has already rehearsed the betrayal.
"You want inside the gaps?" I asked, my voice low, amused. "Careful what you wish for. Holes tend to collapse. And the ones inside usually get buried first."
Her glare sharpened, shoulders squaring like she was ready to throw a punch just to prove she wouldn't break. But beneath it, there it was that flicker. Curiosity laced with defiance. Perfect.
I pulled a coded fragment from my jacket and slid it across the console. The paper's edges were jagged, burned in places for effect. Something real dressed as broken. "Decipher that. If you can tell me what it means, maybe you'll get your trust."
clatter… faint hiss…
She didn't hesitate. That was the tell. Too eager, too quick to believe she was already peeling back the curtain. Eagerness meant she thought she had the upper hand. Which meant control was already mine.
Internal monologue: Let her think she's earning it. Layer the lie, bury the real thread underneath. By the time she finds the edges, I'll be three steps ahead. Always.
Her boots echoed sharp against the metal as she turned, the fragment clutched in her good hand. She didn't look back, not once. That was her other mistake.
tap… tap… fade…
The Veins hummed louder as the silence closed back in. The machines breathed steady, patient, waiting for the next play. Another piece on the board. Another blade within reach.
And every blade, if angled right, cuts exactly where I want.