Chapter 14 · The Captain's Old Call

"Walk."

Rhys didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. Three soldiers closed around Cyrus, rifles angled low but ready. The fourth stayed at Rhys's shoulder and watched Cyrus's pocket.

"Try anything," the soldier said, "and I shoot the hand first."

Cyrus curled his fingers around the vial anyway. Half a dose. Barely enough to slow Kael's collapse. It might as well have been water.

He started walking.

They hauled him out of the market district and through the checkpoint at the old military quarter. The guards barely glanced up. Rhys flashed a rank seal, and the gate opened at once.

Cyrus looked at the seal. "You got promoted."

"I got useful."

"Same thing now?"

"Keep moving."

Cyrus almost laughed. Five years gone, and Rhys still sounded like he was giving orders in a burning med tent.

The safe house sat three blocks past the checkpoint, an old supply depot with narrow windows and a steel door. One soldier unlocked it. Rhys jerked his chin.

"Inside."

"You planning to ask nicely?"

"No."

Cyrus went in.

The room held a table, two chairs, and a map pinned to the wall. Red lines crawled across it—Scar Road tributaries, convoy paths, border routes.