Chapter 11 · Underbelly Deal

"Thirty seconds, Saint. Talk or I walk."

The guy's knife is already on the table between us, and his boot is on my foot under it so I can't run without leaving toes behind.

"You got thirty seconds to decide if I'm desperate or dangerous," I say. "Pick wrong and you bleed."

He laughs. One short, ugly puff. "You don't bleed anymore, Saint. That's the whole rumor, right? Council stripped you. Hunter collared you. So what are you selling? Because you ain't got divinity left to sell."

I slide the vial across the rusted table. Just an inch. The liquid inside catches the dirty yellow light and throws it back wrong. Too bright. Too alive.

"Not divinity," I say. "Memory. Pure shard extract. Straight from the source. Before August bottled it and sold it as holy water."

His eyes go wide. Then narrow. Greed does that to people. Makes them stupid fast.

"Bullshit." He leans in. His breath stinks like cheap synth and rot. "That stuff's myth. Even if it's real, why bring it to me?