Chapter 14 · Steelhook's Draft

Steelhook's office smelled like gun oil and bad coffee. I stood in front of his desk while two guards blocked the door behind me. Not arrested. Not yet. But I wasn't leaving until he got what he wanted.

"You're in the draft," Steelhook said. No greeting. No buildup. Just the words dropped between us like a blade.

I didn't move. "I haven't signed anything."

"You live in my city. You eat my rations." He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. The kind of pose that said he'd already won. "You fight when I say you fight."

The sand in my pockets stirred. I forced it still. Last thing I needed was to lose control here, in front of him, with guards at my back.

"Arena matches are voluntary," I said. "That's the rule."

"Rules change when the city needs them to." Steelhook slid a tablet across the desk. Names scrolled down the screen. Draft roster. My name sat third from the top. "Storm activity's spiking. People are scared. They need to see power. They need to see order."

"They need a show."

"They need to believe we can survive." His eyes locked on mine.