Chapter 22 · No Love Story

"Read it back," I said, and slapped the folder down so hard the water glasses jumped. "Read the line where you told the tribunal the mark faded in March."

Callum didn't look at the folder. He looked at me. "Rowan. Not here."

"Here's exactly where." I flipped it open myself, found the page I'd flagged with a strip of red tape three nights ago, back when I still had a job title that meant something. "Pack physician's report, dated last week. Mark's active. Ninety-one percent bond signature. You want to explain to the elders why your own doctor's handwriting says you're a liar?"

The council table went quiet the way a room goes quiet right before somebody gets fired.

Elder Voss cleared his throat. "Alpha Rhee. Is the archivist's claim accurate?"

Callum's jaw worked. I knew that tell. I used to think it meant he was scared for me. Now I knew it meant he was doing math — how much this would cost him, how much it would cost the port deal, how much of me he could spend to keep both.

"It's inaccurate," he said.

My stomach dropped anyway, even though I'd braced for it. "Say that again.