The streets gave way to the industrial district, the air thick with the scent of oil and metal.
A faded sign loomed ahead— Inky's Ceramics Warehouse—its letters peeling, the building squat and shadowed, its windows dark.
Rhea paused, raising a brow. "We getting new toilets?" she asked, her tone dry, a playful jab.
Kael chuckled, low and cryptic.
"Not yet." His arm slipped from her shoulders, his hand moving to her neck, fingers brushing the collar that hummed faintly, its tech suppressing her flames.
With a soft click, he unlocked it, the device falling into his palm, leaving her neck bare. Rhea's eyes widened, her hand flying to her throat, feeling the absence, her pulse quickening.
"What—why?" she stammered, her voice rising, panic flickering in her amber eyes.
"You're leaving me here? You said I had a month left—I don't even know the way back!" Her words tumbled out, her body tensing, fear and betrayal flashing across her face.
