Chapter 7 · Grand Opening, Demolition First

The knife is still on the counter between us.

Ivy hasn't picked it up. I haven't asked her to. We've been standing here for maybe ten minutes, and the blade's just sitting there like a bad idea neither of us wants to touch. The demolition clock says we've got four hours. The coffee kiosk behind her is dark, wire guts hanging out where I tried to patch it back together. It needs power. It needs intent. It needs her to make a choice I can't make for her.

"You're staring," she says.

I am. She's got her arms crossed, blood dried on her knuckles from the fight with the rot-hound two hours ago. I offered to clean the wound. She told me to fix the kiosk instead. So I did. Sort of. The problem is I can wake up systems, but I can't finish them. Not without a transaction. Not without someone willing to sell me something I can anchor.

"I'm thinking," I say.

"You've been thinking since the drone crashed." She shifts her weight. Her boot scrapes tile. "Just say it."

"I need your blood."

Her jaw tightens. "You said you wouldn't—"

"I won't bind you.