By the time they stepped into Scrap Corner, the sky had melted into deep indigo, dotted with faint, dusty stars. Fires crackled in metal barrels, casting shaky orange light over patched tents, rusted stalls, and figures huddled in shadows. The air smelled of smoke, burnt stew, and engine oil—warm, rough, and alive in a way the empty Wasteland never was.
This wasn't a fancy safe zone with walls and guards.
This was a scavenger's market.
Small. Quiet. Unregulated.
Perfect for Aris's kind of business.
She kept a lazy grip on the rope tied around Kael's wrists, strolling through the narrow paths like she owned the place. To anyone watching, she looked like just another scavenger with a dangerous-looking captive—common enough here that no one stared too long.
Good.
Aris hated attention.
Attention brought questions.
Questions brought trouble.
Trouble was terrible for profits.
"You're oddly calm for someone about to sell a warlord," Kael muttered low enough only she could hear.
Aris glanced at him, eyebrows lifted.
"Why wouldn't I be calm? I've got high-value merchandise, a reliable buyer lined up, and zero intention of getting stabbed tonight. That's a winning day in the Wasteland."
"Buyer?" Kael's voice sharpened. "You already have someone in mind?"
"Of course I do," she said like it was obvious. "I don't just wander into markets and yell 'sell' like an idiot. I plan. I prepare. I make sure I get paid before anyone changes their mind."
She stopped in front of a dimly lit stall covered in piled electronics, cracked tools, and stacks of frayed wiring. Behind the counter sat a woman with cropped gray hair, a scar across her jaw, and eyes sharp enough to cut metal.
Mara.
Owner of Scrap Corner's most reliable trade post.
No questions.
No judgments.
No snitches.
The woman looked up, eyes flicking first to Aris, then locking onto Kael. Her expression didn't change, but a faint, interested glint entered her eyes.
"Aris," she said, voice rough but neutral. "Haven't seen you in weeks. Brought me something interesting?"
Aris smiled, sharp and businesslike.
"Something very interesting. Strong. Skilled. High-quality. Not the kind you find every day."
Mara leaned forward slightly, studying Kael like she was appraising a weapon.
"He's armored. Looks military. Warlord material?"
"Worse," Aris said casually. "Lord of the Black Fort. Or he was, before his people betrayed him. Crashed right in my salvage route."
Mara's eyebrows shot up—shock, for her.
Black Fort wasn't just a name.
It was a legend.
A fortress stacked with weapons, water, and enough power to crush half the Wasteland.
"You captured the Lord of the Black Fort?" she repeated, disbelieving.
"Found him half-dead," Aris corrected. "Tied him up. Kept him alive. Now he's salvage."
Kael's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.
Smart man.
Talking only lowered his value.
Mara leaned back, steepling her fingers.
"Black Fort loyalists are hunting him. Raiders. Mercenaries. Half the Wasteland wants his head. Selling him here is risky."
Aris nodded calmly.
"Risk is why the price is high. I'm not asking for pocket change. I want clean water, three full vials. Two crates of non-rotted dried meat. Ammunition for a pistol. And four hundred coins."
Mara's eyes narrowed.
"Steep."
"Worth it," Aris said without hesitation. "You sell him to the right buyer—someone who wants Black Fort connections—and you triple your investment. He's not just a fighter. He's a key."
Mara studied Kael again, then turned her gaze back to Aris.
The two women stared at each other, silent.
In the Wasteland, deals were made with looks, not words.
Finally, Mara grunted.
"Water and meat I can do immediately. Ammunition and coins will take an hour. I need to fetch them from my back storage."
Aris's smile widened.
Deal.
"Good," she said. "I'll wait. But if you try to double-cross me—"
"I don't double-cross people who bring me profit," Mara cut her off. "Bad for business. Stay here. I'll be back."
She stood and vanished into the back of her tent, leaving Aris and Kael alone.
Aris turned to him, looking pleased.
"See that? Professional negotiation. No yelling. No stabbing. Just profit. You could learn a thing or two."
Kael stared at her, expression unreadable.
"You're not even slightly worried I'll escape? Or that Mara will betray you? Or that raiders will burst in at any second?"
Aris blinked at him like he was speaking nonsense.
"Worrying doesn't stop bullets. It just gives me a headache. I plan. I prepare. I assume everyone will betray me until they pay. That's how you survive."
She leaned against the stall, crossing her arms.
"Besides. If you escape, I hunt you down. If Mara betrays me, I burn her stall down. If raiders come… you fight them. You're my bodyguard, remember?"
Kael closed his eyes briefly, as if praying for patience.
"You are impossible."
Aris grinned.
"Impossibly good at making coins. You'll thank me later. Probably not, but it sounds nice."
She fell silent, listening to the soft hum of the market.
For a moment, everything felt calm.
Quiet.
Safe.
Then a low, familiar sound drifted through the air.
The distant rumble of engines.
Aris's smile vanished.
Her hand dropped to her knife.
Her entire body tensed, sharp as a blade.
No.
Not here.
Not now.
Not when she was ten minutes away from getting paid.
Kael's eyes darkened.
"Raiders," he said flatly.
Aris nodded, jaw tight.
"The same ones from the market. They tracked us here."
She glanced at him, voice sharp and urgent.
"Plan changes. You're not getting sold today. We're running. And if you slow me down—"
"I won't slow you down," Kael cut her off, golden eyes flaring with dangerous focus.
"Untie my hands. Now."
Aris hesitated for half a second.
Trusting him was stupid.
Reckless.
Suicidal.
But the engines grew louder.
Closer.
She made her decision in an instant.
"Fine," she snapped, pulling a small knife from her boot and slicing through the rope around his wrists in one quick movement. "But if you betray me, I will hunt you to the ends of the Wasteland and sell your bones. Understand?"
Kael rubbed his wrists, gaze locked on the entrance to Scrap Corner.
"Understood."
Aris stepped back, watching him.
For the first time since she'd found him, Kael looked exactly like what he was.
A warlord.
A warrior.
A danger.
And for the first time, Aris wasn't sure if she'd just made a profit…
Or a terrible, terrible mistake.