YOU BROUGHT home a girl,” Gal says flatly.
I storm across the room, catching her by the throat and pinning her against the door. “Ettian, I can explain,” Wen chokes. Her skin is rough under my thumb, smooth under my fingers. She doesn’t try to pry my hand away—just lets me pin her, waiting for me to clench down.
“You followed me. You brought the Cutters here. You’re endangering—” I break off, glancing back at Gal. “I don’t need an explanation. I need you to get out.”
“I might need an explanation,” Gal interjects.
“Well—”
A sharp jab in my stomach cuts me off. I look down. Wen’s got her umbrella angled up, its bladed point digging into the soft spot beneath my sternum. She braces against the door as my fingers tighten on her neck. “Cutters were already on your tail. I was trying to warn you—they’re closing in. We don’t have time for this. If you throw me out now, they’ll catch all of us. You’re a little bit stuck with me.” The burned side of her mouth goes taut, somewhere between a terse look and a cruel smirk.
I scowl. “Down in the lobby. What happened to that woman?”
Wen reaches around behind herself and pulls a blaster out of her waistband. She keeps her wrist limp, the weapon pointed at the floor. Her umbrella sports a few fresh red patches.
“Gods of all systems,” I mutter, letting her go and taking a step back. She keeps the umbrella pointed at me. “What about Jusun?”
She gives me a blank look.
“The owner? The guy—”
“Oh, he locked himself in his office. But the Cutter got a call off to her fellows before I took care of her, and they’re probably tracing her location. We’ve got a minute, maybe more.”
“Does anyone feel like telling me what’s going on?” Gal asks, his voice dangerously low. I turn to find him backed into the corner, his eyes fixed on the gun in Wen’s hand. My heart drops. In all of this chaos, I nearly forgot what we’re doing here. What’s at stake. How stupid it is to let someone like Wen anywhere near him.
“Who’s he?” Wen asks.
“You don’t want to know,” I say, and Gal smirks despite himself. The sight of it grounds me from my panic. I have two and a half years of academy training under my belt. I have a minute to work with. I can get us out of here. “Wen,” I bark, and she snaps to attention. “Put the gun away. Gal?” He straightens, relaxing slightly as Wen slips the blaster back into her waistband. “Get that deflector armor on. I wish there were time to explain, but we need to get moving.”
Gal crouches by the packs, pulling out the armor I wore during our escape. I dig into our gear and find my grappling gun. Wen creeps closer, hovering over my shoulder as I check the device’s charge. “Where the rut’d you get gear like this?” she asks, clutching her umbrella tighter.
“Unimportant. More important—you know the city. You know where we go to lose them, right?”
Wen bares her teeth, and something tells me I’m going to like this place even less than her last hidey-hole. But it’s all the confirmation I need.
Gal finishes strapping on the armor and pauses, glancing between us. “Which one of you smells like garbage?”
I shrug. Wen says, “Both.”
Gal sighs.
I cross to the window, glancing down into the street below. Our room is around the corner from the main entrance, so if there are Cutters on their way, we’re none the wiser. Foot traffic’s light—we’re in the midafternoon lull between when most people take their lunches and when they start heading home for the day. Still, people will see us. We have to make this fast.
“Wen, you any good at climbing ropes?” I ask, popping the window’s latches and hauling it open.
“Up or down?”
“Down.”
“Not a problem.”
“Great.” I kick out the screen, lean into the open air, and fire a grappling line into the wall