Chapter 8 · Pickup Point

I'm standing outside Jessa's apartment at two in the morning with a stolen corporate weapon and zero good options.

Rowan's behind me on the fire escape, crouched low. Her silver hair catches the streetlight glow. She's not bleeding anymore, but the way she's holding her ribs tells me the hit from Chapter Seven didn't heal clean. I don't know if halo units get infections or internal damage or whatever, and I don't want to find out tonight.

I knock. Three short, one long. Old signal from back when Jessa and I were actually together.

Nothing.

I knock again, harder this time. "Jessa. I know you're awake."

The lock clicks. Door opens half an inch, chain still on. Jessa's face appears in the gap. No makeup, hair tied back, eyes sharp even at this hour. She's in an old band shirt I used to sleep in. That stings more than it should.

"Nia." Her voice is flat. "You don't get to use that knock anymore."

"I need your help."

"With what?"

I glance back at Rowan. Jessa follows my eyes. Her expression doesn't change, but I see her grip tighten on the doorframe.

"Let me in," I say. "Please.