Chapter 8 · The Midnight Lockdown

The judgment hall smells like old stone and something burnt I can't name. My wrist tracker's ice-cold against my skin. The black bar where number 1999 used to glow is still there, dead as a stopped clock.

Leah stands fifteen feet away, arms crossed. Her auditor uniform looks pressed even at four in the morning. Behind her, the Chief Auditor—some guy in robes who looks like he's never smiled in his life—taps a tablet. Seven judges sit in a half-circle above us, their faces carved from the same bored expression.

"Aiden Crow." The Chief's voice echoes. "You stand accused of debt fraud. Clause 14.3 grants us authority to reassign any life saved during an active investigation. Your tracker shows one thousand nine hundred ninety-eight legitimate debts. The nine hundred ninety-ninth was transferred this morning to Auditor Vaughn as merit for her investigative work."

I look at Leah. She doesn't blink.

"You're telling me," I say, "that I pulled a kid off subway tracks, and she gets the credit."

"Correct." The Chief swipes his tablet. "Furthermore, our review of your case files indicates a pattern. You've been—"

"Let me guess. Cutting corners. Taking shortcuts.