Chapter 6 · Half the Books

Levi's hand closes on my jaw before I can pull back. Not rough. Just enough to tip my face into the lamp.

"Hold still," he says. "Or I stitch it crooked and you spend the rest of your life looking like you lost a fight with a bear."

"I lost a fight with four rifles." I let him turn my head. The cut over my eyebrow still leaks. "Bears don't reload."

"Neither do dead men." He threads the needle without looking at it. "You should be one. Squad had you on the floor when I walked in."

"You could've let them finish."

"I could've." The needle goes in. I don't flinch, mostly out of spite. "Would've cost me four operatives and a war I'm not ready to start. Cheaper to keep you."

Same iron table from three nights ago. Same room. Last time it had a squad kicking the door and my blood already on the floor before they got here. Now it's just the two of us and a ledger the size of a phone book sitting between the suture kit and a cold cup of coffee.

"That the book?" I nod at it.

"Half of it.