Marcus stepped onto the tarmac, the smell of fuel and sea air mixing in the night breeze. The private airstrip was quiet—just a single plane idling, its engines humming low. A transport job, by the look of it. Probably for another clan, the Vazaris, perhaps? It didn’t really matter. He just needed to be on it.

  Sasha was already waiting by the hangar, arms crossed, eyes scanning the area. “You sure about this?” she murmured.

  Marcus forced a grin. “Absolutely not.”

  Isi had left on a da Silva plane earlier. She’d had to get out immediately. It was harder to hide a person than paper. But now, he and Sasha had to make their own way to where Siera was setting up shop with the pages stolen from Novem.

  They approached the plane, where a middle-aged pilot with a shaved head and a tired scowl leaned against the stairs, checking his watch. The second he saw them, his expression hardened.

  “Runway’s closed,” the pilot said. “Private charter. No passengers.”

  Marcus didn’t hesitate. Confidence was everything. “Yeah, about that,” he said smoothly. “Dante sent us.”

  The pilot squinted. “Dante?”

  Marcus exhaled, shaking his head like this was a problem he’d encountered before. “Unbelievable. He didn’t tell you? Typical. I swear, every time.” He turned to Sasha. “I told you he’d forget.”

  Sasha, to her credit, caught on fast. She huffed, exasperated. “Told you he’s a dangerous idiot.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Marcus had to hold back his grin. That was better than her usual improv. He turned back to the pilot, all casual frustration. “Look, I get it, you’re busy, you don’t wanna deal with this. Neither do I. But we both know Dante doesn’t like when things get complicated. So how about we make this simple?”

  He pulled a thin stack of cash from his pocket. It wasn’t a bribe, just enough to sell the act, enough to be an arranged payment. He placed it in the pilot’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  The pilot frowned, flipping through the bills. “I don’t—”

  “Don’t think too hard,” Marcus interrupted, keeping his voice light. “You’re heading out anyway, right? We’ll sit in the back, stay out of your way, you never saw us. And Dante? He never has to hear about this little miscommunication.”

  Silence stretched. For half a second, Marcus wished the pilot was someone else, someone with a bad habit of talking through every landing, but beggars didn’t get to be choosers. He just needed this one to take the money.

  Finally, the pilot tapped the edge of the bills against his palm. Then he sighed, tucked it into his jacket, and jerked his head toward the plane. “Stay outta sight.”

  Marcus flashed an easy grin and grabbed Sasha’s arm, pulling her up the stairs.

  Once inside, Sasha slumped into a seat, exhaling. “Dante?” she whispered.

  Marcus shrugged, taking the far side of the three seats. “Sounded like a guy who’d make someone nervous.”

  She shook her head. "You pulse first, think never."

  Marcus’s smile flickered, just for a second. Not enough for Sasha to call it out, but enough that he had to force it back into place. “We’re on the plane, aren’t we? Besides, if that were true, Jeron would have won earlier. I plan plenty.”

  Sasha snorted, and Marcus settled in. Only now there was nothing to plan, just his thoughts. That made him antsy. Made him want to visit his brother—the one who didn’t ask questions, not the one he’d just hurt so badly.

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t drop everything and disappear. He had to manage the fallout. Had to make sure Isi was all right. Had to make sure everything didn’t explode after stealing Trevor’s drive.

  After hurting Teorin.

  No. Don’t think about it. Sleep. That was better. It was better than dwelling on Teorin. On everything that had gone wrong. So he closed his eyes, pretending it would help.

  It didn’t.

  [Lev] Here is my rent. I would like to note that I am paying under protest of unjust treatment, specifically, slander of a model tenant.

  [Archivist] Model?

  [Lev] Slander of a rent paying tenant. Happy?

  [Archivist] Yes. Objection noted. Rent covered for this week. Deficit: One unit of back pay.