Chapter 7 · Ashmark Owes Blood

The beacon's still blinking in my hand when someone knocks on the door.

Not a polite knock. The kind that says open up or I'm coming through.

I shove the beacon into my jacket pocket and pull the sand closer. It hums under my skin, ready. The apartment's quiet except for the drip from the ceiling pipe and my own breathing.

Another knock. Harder.

"Kai Ruin." The voice is rough, like gravel scraped across metal. "Don't make me break this door."

I don't recognize it. That's bad. In Ironspine, strangers don't come calling unless they want something you're not going to like giving up.

I move toward the window first—check the fire escape, see if there's another way out. But when I look down, there's two guys standing in the alley below. Big guys. Military build. One of them looks up and grins.

Trapped.

"I'm counting to three," the voice says.

I unlock the door.

The man standing there is maybe fifty, scarred face, grey stubble. He's wearing scavenger gear—reinforced leather, sand goggles pushed up on his forehead, gloves with the fingertips cut off. But it's his eyes that stop me.