Kayden Richardson's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Kayden left the library through the public hall, the folder and the mouse cage buried in his pack. He should have felt safer. He did not. The young officer with dark curls had known his face, known his mouse, known everything. Jacob trusted him. But trust was cheap, and the regime planted men who smiled while they counted your steps. If the officer was a plant, Kayden had just shown him the road to Jacob. He needed to know the man before he ran anywhere near his friend again. He stopped at a low table near the door, where a woman in a patched grey coat sorted papers no library kept. A forged access stamp sat in her breast pocket, plain for anyone to see. She moved documents for coin, and she saw who came and went. This was Sable Wren. Kayden had heard her name whispered by people who feared the regime as much as he did. "I need a name checked," Kayden said. He described the officer. Dark curls. Crest pinned low. Guarded a courier mouse. Sable did not look up. "Names cost." Kayden set two coins on the table. She took them. "He came in three weeks back," she said. "Asked for the shelf on your bloodline. Read the labels. Took nothing." She met his eyes. "A plant takes the file. He put it back." Outside, a megaphone screeched. Kayden turned. In the square stood a hollow-faced old man in a stiff uniform, shouting the regime's words. Petra Mohl. His voice boomed loyalty, but his hands shook on the handle. Two soldiers watched him, not the crowd. Kayden understood then. The regime tested its own. It made frightened men perform, and it watched for the ones who broke. "He came back," Sable said. She meant the officer. "He's outside. Watching the door." Kayden's chest went cold. A trap, then. He moved toward the side passage. The officer was already there, blocking it, one hand raised, empty. "Don't run," the officer said. His voice was low, plain. "If I wanted soldiers, they'd be here." He pulled a folded page from his coat. Kayden took it. It was a regime tracking order, dated years back. It listed his grandfather's name, his grandmother's, his own. The regime had hunted his blood for years. "Why give me this?" Kayden asked. "Because his name is on it too," the officer said. He tapped the grandfather's line. "He was my father. That makes you family." He did not blink. "I've kept you alive fourteen months. Believe it or don't." Kayden looked at the page, then at the man's steady face. The old speaker still screamed in the square. Kayden folded the order and put it in his pack. "I believe you," he said. Princeton Richardson nodded once. "Then stop coming to the library. They're closing in." He turned and walked back into the crowd. Kayden had a second ally now, and a warning he could not ignore.