Starling cradled the warm cup in both hands, elbows braced on the table, fingers curling around the ceramic like it was the only thing keeping her upright. She had been home, cleaned as best she could, changed, then come straight here. The tea was bitter and sharp, the familiar taste of precaution. She drank it down anyway, wincing.
Sitting was a mistake.
The seat was hard, and her thighs were still tender, her core sore in that freshly used kind of way. She shifted subtly, trying to find a position that didn't make her wince. There wasn't one.
A body dropped into the chair beside her, and she barely glanced over before Cade's voice rang in her ear.
"You look tired."
The smirk in his voice made her glance at him properly. His grin was all sharp amusement and barely hidden innuendo, and she didn't doubt for a second that he knew exactly why she looked tired. Prick.
She didn't bother denying it. Just took another sip of her tea, eyes half-lidded. "And you still look like you had your face cut open a week ago."
"Funny that," he said, touching the mostly healed line of stitches with the theatrical care of a martyr.
She smiled faintly around the rim of the cup.
Truth was, she was tired. Not just physically, though her limbs still trembled a little from overuse, her muscles warm and slack in the aftermath. But emotionally too. Last night had been… intense. This morning had been… nice.
Which might be worse.
It was so much easier when it was just about need, about tension and satisfaction and knowing it was all going to end eventually. If it stayed in that box, she could handle it. But niceness… tenderness? That was harder to bury.
It was going to sting when they were done with her. All the more reason to keep it quiet. Private. She didn't need anyone watching when she was discarded.
Tenna and Ridge came in from the yard, still flushed with heat and sweat, laughing at something mid-sentence. They spotted her and Cade and changed course immediately, plopping down on the other side of the table with the chaotic energy of younger siblings. Ridge was still teasing Tenna about whatever mistake she'd made in the sparring ring, and Tenna, defensive but grinning, tossed a crust of bread at him in reply.
"Tell me that was your strategy, Ridge. Brilliant. Just drop your weapon and throw your body at me like a sack of flour."
"It worked," Ridge said, grinning wide.
"You hit the wall, Ridge."
"I hit you. Then the wall. That's efficiency."
Starling smiled, letting the sound of them wash over her. Cade leaned close and murmured in her ear.
"You going to tell us who left you walking funny?"
She didn't look at him. Just kicked Cade in the shin under the table, a dull thud that made him grunt in mock offence, and sipped her tea like nothing happened. The others were still trading insults and laughter, and Starling let herself sink into the noise, let it cover the heat rising in her cheeks. Maker help her; she had been walking funny.
She'd just about finished her tea when one of the handlers - Wren - swept into the mess hall with her usual tight-lipped efficiency. No eye contact. Just silent assessment and a few envelopes passed out without fanfare. One slid across the table toward Starling. Another to Cade. One each for Tenna and Ridge.
Starling's fingers closed around hers instantly, eager. She needed the coin, sure, but more than that, she needed to know. Where. How far. For how long.
The paper was already unfolding in her hand as Wren moved on without a word. Starling scanned it quickly, eyes darting over the location, the details. Antiva City. Of course. Again.
Her shoulders slumped the tiniest fraction. Still not out of the region. Still not far enough to cast wider nets, write the more dangerous letters, and follow the most obscure threads. But… a few days to get there. A few days back. And however long it took to get the job done.
Not too long, though. If it took too long, people would talk. They'd wonder. Start asking questions. She couldn't afford questions. Especially not from the wrong people.
She folded the parchment and stood, draining the last of her tea in one quick swig. It was bitter as ever.
"I'll leave now," she said simply, to no one in particular.
Cade looked up from his envelope with a lopsided smile. "Try not to stab anyone important."
"That's literally my job," she murmured, ruffling his hair as she passed, ignoring his squawk of protest. She gave a quick little wave to Tenna and Ridge as she moved past them, Tenna making a face at her in return.
Starling didn't slow her steps. She had a job now. And a few days of space. Not what she wanted, but enough.
She'd make it work.
--
Lucanis leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as Wren finished her reports, her crisp, precise tone a background hum against the weight of the meeting. Contracts. Numbers. Names. Nothing he needed to devote his full attention to, not until one particular name caught his eye.
Starling.
He straightened subtly, eyes narrowing as Wren continued listing out details. His gaze flicked to the parchment she had slid across the table. Antiva City? His fingers reached for the paper, tapping once, sharp and deliberate.
"I thought we agreed to keep Starling in Treviso," he said, quiet but pointed.
Wren blinked, brows knitting in confusion. "I wasn't aware of that." Her tone was polite but brisk. "Why? She's been performing well. Her last job in Antiva City went smoothly."
Lucanis's jaw ticked once, tension coiling in his shoulders. He couldn't say why. Couldn't say because I want to know where she sleeps at night. Couldn't say because I've just now gotten her to stay through the morning, and I'm not ready to let her slip away again.
He didn't speak. Teia, however, was about to, her mouth curving in that knowing, aggravating little smile.
"She's unorthodox," Viago offered smoothly, saving him from having to fill the silence himself and cutting Teia off. "She works better with a closer eye kept on her."
Caterina's voice sliced through the moment with casual disdain. "Who is Starling?"
Before he could answer - before he could formulate anything remotely neutral - Illario chimed in with a wolfish grin. "You haven't seen her creeping around the estate in the early hours, Nonna?" he drawled, too pleased with himself. "She's Viago and Lucanis's flavour of the month."
Lucanis didn't bristle, exactly. But his spine stiffened, and he felt the impulse to grind his molars into dust.
Caterina turned a slow, unimpressed gaze toward both him and Viago. "The Crow Hall," she said coldly, "is not your personal harem."
"We don't treat it like one," Lucanis replied evenly, though his tone was sharp enough to slice a throat.
He hated the way a few of the others were smirking behind their hands. Hated even more that Teia was still watching him with that faint, feline interest. Like she was waiting to see if he'd bare teeth or belly first.
Starling's name still sat on that parchment. Antiva City still scrawled beside it. A few days away. A few days too far.
He said nothing more. But his hand curled into a fist on the table.
He kept his eyes on the contract, even as the conversation moved on. Their laughter grated now, too loud, too smug, too knowing. He tuned them out. Because all he could think about was the morning.
Her laugh echoing through the halls as she bolted. The way she'd tricked him, flipped from his grasp like she weighed nothing, her body light and nimble as a cat as she vanished out the door. The image was burned into him. Her flushed face. The lingering taste of her skin. The little game they'd played, weaving in kisses and mock escape, like she hadn't just been laid bare and aching hours before.
And her laugh. Not sardonic, not dry - a real one. She had laughed like a girl with no weight on her chest. No contract, no shadows. Just for a moment. And he could still hear it.
She'd told them last night she had no favourite place. And maybe that had been true. Maybe she really hadn't been wanted anywhere long enough to make one. Maybe every room she'd ever laid her head in had been borrowed or temporary or unsafe.
That was fine. He would make her one. He would give her one. With them.
He'd pull the contract. Switch it for something closer. Something that didn't send her days away, out of sight, out of reach.
She'd still show up at the gates like she always did, a little breathless, a little wary, trying not to show how much she liked being there. He'd let her believe she still had a choice. That she wasn't already theirs.
She'd learn.
He shifted in his chair, glancing once at Viago, who gave a near-imperceptible nod in return. Good. He was already on the same path. Already planning how to intercept her, rewrite the orders, and shuffle things just enough that Starling's assignment stayed rooted where they could keep her.
Lucanis leaned back again, looser now, his hand uncurled and resting against the wood.
They'd let her run just far enough to feel free. But she'd come back.
--
Lucanis moved quickly, Viago beside him, their steps long and clipped with purpose. The contract was already rewritten, sealed, and stamped. Higher pay. Closer to home. Every part of it was more desirable than the one she'd taken. If they could only get it to her in time.
The training yard was their first stop, but it was near empty now. Only a few younger recruits sparred under the eye of a bored handler. No flash of golden hair or sly grin.
"Not here," Viago murmured.
Lucanis grunted, already turning on his heel. The mess hall. If she hadn't left yet, maybe she'd stopped for something before she went. Or maybe she was with her friends, stalling just long enough for them to catch her.
But the mess was thinning too, late enough in the morning that breakfast had come and gone. A few Crows loitered over tea or stale bread, and at one table near the window sat Tenna, Ridge, and Cade.
Lucanis approached without pause, his voice clipped.
"Where's Starling? There's been a change to her contract."
Tenna looked up, surprised, her mouth still half full. She swallowed hard and blinked. "She's already gone. She left as soon as she got it. That was hours ago."
Lucanis's jaw tightened. Of course she had.
"She'd already be out of the city," Ridge added, more cautiously.
He gave a short nod and turned away before the simmer could reach his eyes. He stalked out of the mess, Viago falling into step beside him.
Fuck. Of course she'd left right away. Of course she hadn't lingered.
Efficient, obedient, clever little thing. Always slipping just far enough ahead to make catching her difficult.
He clenched the rolled contract in his hand, the paper bending faintly beneath the pressure. He hated this. The not knowing. The distance. The fact that someone could lay eyes on her out there before they did. That someone might see what she was and not understand she was already spoken for.
His lip curled, silent.
"She didn't even say goodbye," Viago said, a bit too lightly.
Lucanis growled. "Next time, we give her the contract ourselves."
No more trusting handlers to shuffle paperwork. If they wanted her close, they'd keep her close.
Next time she wouldn't be walking out that gate at all.