Chapter 7 · The Old Unit Key

"You gonna tell me what that is, or do I guess?"

Kael's voice cut through the hum of the engine. Her eyes were on the keyring dangling from the ignition. Cyrus's thumb had been rubbing the scratched metal tag for the last twenty minutes.

Unit 47.

"It's nothing," he said.

"Right." She didn't look away. "Nothing you've been staring at since we packed up."

He should've thrown it in a ditch years ago. Should've left it in the locker when he walked. But he'd grabbed it on his way out, shoved it deep in his pocket, and never let go.

Stupid.

"Drop it, Kael."

"Fine." She turned back to the tree line, but her jaw was tight. She knew he was lying.

Behind them, the orphans sat quiet in the truck bed. Too quiet. Lien was in her corner again, face blank, eyes locked on the back of Cyrus's head. She'd been watching him since they broke camp. Kid had instincts.

She knew something was wrong.

The convoy hit another stretch of cracked highway. Dawn light bled through the dead trees, turning the Scar Road into a graveyard of reaching branches.