The boss's office was colder than I expected.
Clean lines. No clutter. Just glass and chrome and a soft hum of electricity behind the walls, like the building itself was wired to watch you breathe. A wall of monitors blinked with quiet efficiency—feeds from every hallway, room, and holding bay in the compound.
He didn't look up when I walked in.
Just gestured for me to sit.
I didn't. I stayed standing.
"You've been doing good work," he said eventually, setting a tablet aside. "The hybrid's responding better than anticipated. The supervisors think you have a knack for this kind of thing."
I said nothing.
"But that's not your only job," he added. "You knew that."
I did. And yet hearing it aloud twisted something in my gut.
He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Tonight, you'll be accompanying a shipment. Just a ride-along. To observe. To learn the system."
My stomach dropped. "Drugs?"
"High-quality. High-value. Nothing you haven't seen before."
I flinched.
Because I had seen it before.
Mira. Her tiny hand wrapped around that ziplock bag. The confusion in her eyes. The way she'd smiled when she said she was just helping. That hollow terror when she realized she'd been used.
She hadn't known.
She was only four.
And I had stopped it. Stopped her.
But now—
I was going to do it myself.
"Consider it an educational experience," he said lightly. "Kol's crew will handle everything. You just observe. Ask questions. Learn. You're no good to us if you only stay locked in a room teaching emotional flashcards."
"I didn't sign up to be a mule," I muttered.
"No," he agreed. "But you signed up. And this is part of the package."
I stared at the monitors instead of his face. One screen showed the hybrid common room. Another showed a hallway I recognized from the east wing. Cameras. Always cameras.
"How long?" I asked.
"Couple of hours. Maybe more. The route's tight, but Kol likes to take the scenic path. You'll be back before dawn."
"And if I say no?"
He smiled. "You won't."
He was right.
I didn't have the luxury of refusal.
Not with Mira still at the shelter. Not with the eviction order still circling like a vulture. Not with the threat of inspections and legal shutdowns creeping closer by the day.
"You leave in an hour," he said. "Dress for the weather. And remember—this is just the beginning."
I turned to go, but he stopped me with a final note.
"Rhea?"
I paused, hand on the doorframe.
"This isn't about loyalty," he said. "It's about adaptability. You prove you can stomach the ride, we'll see where you belong next."
I didn't answer.
Just walked out.
Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.
I thought of Mira. Her giggle. Her stubborn pout when I tried to brush her hair. The way she'd clung to me like I was the only stable thing in her world.
I had promised to protect her.
And here I was, preparing to ride along with the very system I'd once torn apart to keep her safe.
"I stopped her from carrying drugs," I whispered, to no one. "And now I'm doing it myself."
Nyx was quiet a long moment.
Then, softly: "You're doing it for her. That's the difference."
"Is it?"
"Enough of one," she said. "Enough to survive."