slowed my steps, heart thudding louder than my boots on the cracked concrete. In a place like this, hesitation was blood in the water. Someone whistled low behind me. Another laughed—sharp, humorless. Eyes tracked me from the shadows, weighing, measuring.
Then I saw her.
Cager sat apart from the rest, perched on an overturned crate like she owned the alley and everything rotting inside it. A woman carved from scars and confidence. Knives lined her belt—long, short, curved, serrated—each one placed with care, like jewelry. She was cleaning one slowly with a rag, her movements calm, almost tender. That was how you knew she was dangerous. People who rushed liked to prove something. Cager didn't need to.
I took a breath and stepped closer.
Conversation died instantly. Cards froze mid-air. Smoke stopped drifting and just hung there, heavy. A man by the fire shifted, his hand dropping to something metallic. Cager didn't look up.
"Lost," she said, voice smooth, bored. "Or brave."
"Neither," I replied. "I'm looking to buy."
That earned her attention. Her eyes lifted—dark, sharp, curious. She studied my face like she was already deciding where to cut me if I lied.
"Buy what?" she asked.
I swallowed. "Protection. Precision. Something that won't hesitate when I can't."
A smile tugged at her lips. Not a nice one.
"Everything in this alley hesitates," she said, standing now. She was closer than I expected, close enough that I could smell smoke and steel. "Including you."
She leaned in, fingers brushing the edge of my hoodie, right where my pulse gave me away.
"So here's how this goes," Cager continued softly. "You tell me why you really need me… or you walk out without your hands."
The alley waited.
And I knew there was no walking away—not anymore.