Chapter 31 · Black Market Hunt

"Keep your head down or get your skull cracked," Evelyn hissed, her hand gripping the back of Kane's jacket, pulling him hard into the shadow of a rusted shipping container.

Kane didn't move. He let her drag him, his eyes locked on the neon-lit bazaar of the Low-Sectors. The air tasted like ozone and burnt plastic. Every few seconds, a holographic advertisement for soul-drugs flickered overhead, casting a sickly violet glow over the crowd of scavengers and dealers.

"I can handle a few street thugs, Ev," Kane muttered. He shifted his weight, his hand drifting toward the hidden pocket where his remaining cards rested.

"These aren't thugs. They're Syndicate cleaners," she snapped, her voice a sharp whisper against his ear. He could feel the heat of her breath, the scent of something expensive—jasmine and gunpowder—clashing with the filth of the market. "If they spot us, we aren't just dead. We're erased. You want to be a Discard again?"

Kane stiffened. The word *Discard* still stung like an open wound. He looked at her, seeing the fierce set of her jaw and the way her eyes scanned the perimeter.