Chapter 23 · Don't Trust Your Dad

Grimm's standing in the doorway when I turn around.

Ghost's slumped against my shoulder, still coughing from the smoke two floors down. The chip's burning a hole in my pocket. Mom's voice is still rattling around in my skull—*If you're hearing this, I'm already gone*—and now my father's blocking the only exit with his arms crossed like I'm twelve and missed curfew.

"Rona." His voice is flat. Tracker-calm. The voice that means he's deciding whether to shoot first or ask questions. "Put her down."

I tighten my grip on Ghost. She's dead weight, but I'm not letting go. "No."

"She's a high-value target. You know the rules."

"Yeah." I meet his eyes. "I know a lot of things now."

Something flickers across his face. Not surprise. Worse. Like he's been waiting for this conversation and dreading it. He takes a step into the room and I back up, dragging Ghost with me. Her blood's all over my jacket. My blood-bond is still humming under my skin, her rifle skill layered into my muscle memory like I've been shooting for years.

Grimm sees me move and stops. Hands up. Non-threatening.