Chapter 17 · The Price

"So you do have it." Cyrus kept his eyes on the vial instead of the dealer's knife hand.

The glass was no bigger than his thumb. Inside, liquid the color of old bruises clung to the sides.

The dealer smiled. "I've got lots of things. The question is what you're paying with."

Three levels below a gutted factory, Cyrus stood alone at a metal table while Kael watched the convoy upstairs. He'd told her he was scouting supplies.

Not exactly a lie.

"Your message said urgent," the dealer said. Scar tissue pulled tight where her left ear should've been. "Command-grade ink stabilizer. Medical purity. No substitutes."

"That's what I asked for."

"Military work." Her gaze moved over his coat, his boots, the way he kept his left arm close. "So you're fixing a soldier, or you used to be one."

Cyrus said nothing.

She tapped the vial. "Your coin won't cover it."

"I can get more. Give me two days."

"I don't want more coin."

His stomach tightened. "Then name it."

"Living ink. Command-grade or better. Still bonded to a host. Bring me one clean mark, and the stabilizer is yours.