Page 99 of Problematic

“They did.” I flexed my hand, still able to feel Liv’s thigh under my palm, warm and soft and trembling. “Now I’m going to take theirs off.”

Vale exhaled through his nose. “Lux.” The sound of my name in his mouth had too much warning in it.

I faced the annex again. Flames were crawling over blackened beams. Men shouted. Wards flared blue, fighting to choke the fire down before the whole lower block caught. This city breathed because I kept my boot on its throat. The South had forgotten. They had mistaken my silence for distraction, my restraint for weakness, my obsession for a door left open.

Fine.

I would remind them with bullets.

“Get me everything on Buneville,” I said. “Routes, safe houses, bloodlines, lovers, debts, and supply chains. Every piece of cinderbloom sold south of the Southpoint Marsh this year.”

Vale swallowed. “How many men do you want?”

“None.”

“No.”

My head turned slowly. He paled but kept going because loyalty had eaten his survival instincts years ago. “No, sir. You’re already compromised.”

I laughed once. It came out flat and mean. “Wrong word.”

“You ignored twelve emergency alerts.”

“I was occupied.”

“You nearly let the annex burn without response.”

“I’m responding now.”

“With no team, no sleep, no clean intel, and blood still in places I am choosing to overlook.”

I smiled wider. “See? You do understand.”

Vale’s jaw tightened. “Take backup.”

“No.”

“At least take one man.”

“I am the response, Vale.”

The fire let out another hard crack. Something inside burst, throwing orange light over the street. My shadow stretched across the pavement, huge and hound-shaped at the edges.

Vale saw it. Everyone saw it. My power wanted out. So did I.

He lowered his voice. “This is about her.”

Everything was about her now. That was the problem. “They think I’m soft,” I said.

“They think you’re distracted.”

“They’re about to learn both theories have consequences.”

Vale dragged one hand down his face. “Give me four hours.”

“You have ten minutes.”

“Lux.”