Achilles Greenburn's Arc

Chapter 6 of 9

The dust on the road came an hour early. Achilles watched from the gate as three figures took shape, not one. Kira walked point. Sinclair Feldman walked beside her, hands open. Zelda Verada trailed a step back, a blue and yellow medical bag slung at her hip. Marcus was still out past the radio station, hours from return. The choice landed on Achilles alone. Kira stopped at the wire. She drew a rusted officer's pistol from her belt and laid it flat on the post between them. Serial numbers scratched into the steel. "Proof," she said. "From the people who burned your channel. I'm not hiding what I am." The barrel pointed at no one. It was a key, not a threat. Sinclair stepped forward. "Friend, Red Hills sent me to close a deal. I came to tell you the deal was rotten before it left the table." His voice stayed level. "Guilt's a lousy negotiating partner. I'm bringing it anyway." Achilles studied his face. No performance there. Just a man holding the weight. Zelda lifted the medical bag. "Clinic's understaffed. I came because the next hour might need stitches, not speeches." Flat. True. She did not look at Sinclair when she said it, and that told Achilles everything about what she was already carrying. Achilles thought about Marcus, gone past the gate, trusting him to hold the inside. He thought about a trader walking through and changing everything. Three were standing here. None matched the picture he'd built. He unlatched the gate and swung it wide. "Sinclair and Zelda, inside. Kira, the gun stays on the post until Marcus is back." Kira nodded once. She left the pistol where it lay. They walked into the yard together. Achilles closed the gate behind them and felt the hinge bite. He had picked a side without Marcus in the room. The hub he wanted would be built on this hour, or it wouldn't be built at all.