V

The alley is tight, half-shadowed by an overpass. The air is thick with rot and chimney soot. Theodore’s breath comes sharp and fast from the run. Codi leans against a wall, a rolled cigarette dangling unlit in their fingers, eyes narrowed. It glows stark blue, like bioluminescent spores in the dire of night. Luna. A concoction created by none other but Codi themselves. A hit on the streets. A deadly hit – use the right amount, and it makes for a nasty high. The perfect amount, and you turn into a mindless zombie, nothing but the need for more Luna left inside you. Codi created it under the choking behest of Jhalen, years ago. Of course they kept it, kept producing it – though not to use it as a weapon or empire anymore. At least not the kind Jhalen wanted to run, with hooks and nooses and corpses littering streets. It had a…sentimental value. He didn’t sell it anymore, not the way they used to. These days it was mainly for Codi, himself. Sentimental value. It still had that faint taste of Jhalen’s tongue to it. He never quite washed out.

“You’re a mouthy kid. Thought your sister would’ve beaten that out of you by now.”

Theodore doesn’t rise to the bait.

“She’s not like that.”

“Oh, right. She just murders people, doesn’t she?”

The air tightens. Theodore wants to argue, but some part of him flinches at the word.

“She told me you let Connor die.”

Codi flicks his cigarette away. It bounces off the cobbles.

“No, she did not tell you that. She’d die before breathing a word about Connor.”

A beat passes. Theodore blinks, clearly caught – and the stick-thin con-artist before him humms around a bemused smile.

“You guessed." he mused. "Pretty smart. Or maybe too stupid to know who you’re talking to.”

He paused, a reluctance in the hard set of his brows. The cigarette under his taught fingers threatened to give.

“I didn’t let him die. No – we didn’t. We traded him.”

Beat.

Theodore stops breathing, ice down his spine.

“You what?”

Codi doesn't smile. Not this time. Just idly inspects his smoke, almond eyes drawn with an almost thoughtful slant.

“Your sister thinks he was collateral. Some street-kid accident. Pissed off the wrong bruisers with his questions and games. But Jhalen? That wasn’t an accident." His jaw worked, like the words were sticking to his gums. "Conner– he-…the kid was five. Loud. Pretty. Jhalen made a deal with a few loan sharks. Said he’d hand over a ‘gift’ to smooth out debts. I didn’t know until it was already—” The short man stopped suddenly, as if struck by an invisible hand.

Theodore’s voice is almost inaudible.

"You're lying.”

Codi does not move, doesn’t breathe – as if caught somewhere far away, under watchful eyes of a thing he’d disturb at the cost of his own life. When his eyes blinked, chest stuttered to life, the look Thedore recived was that of a man daring death to come claim them with teeth forward. Cold and distant in a way that had the teenager step back sharply.

“Wish I was.”Codi hissed. Dark eyes fell from Theodore’s face, as if pained by the sight.

“…I wish I was.”

"Then— why didn’t you stop it?”

“Because I was ten years old and getting the shit kicked out of me for stealing bread.” Something shifted under his skin – canines sharper than Theodore recalled, and Codi stalled, swallowed, breath thick.

“Want to know the worst part? The guards never could care. Your sister bust in there and when they showed up, what did they do?" He moved from the wall like a beast disturbed. "Arrest her alongside all the rest. They didn’t show up to save the kids — they came because I sent them a list of all the drugs Jhalen kept under the fucking floorboards.” He paced through the words, and once he stopped, back turned to Theodore, the younger straightened. Nothing. Nothing for the longest moment. “I didn’t do it to avenge Connor. I did it because I was pissed at Jhalen.”

Codi still stood, back turned, and a fear settled in the brown-haired teenager as he looked at the man. Shaking hands fumbled as Codi lit another cigarette. Theodore doesn’t say a word. His mouth opens. Closes. There was nothing to say. Maybe he could scream?

And then Codi adds, too soft for any sort of comfort, any sense of normalcy: “You don’t belong here, kid. Go home.”

Theodore stumbles into the open street, numbed. Distant. The haze of the city noise presses in on him. Late evening like a sentence to him now. Burnished skies and slowly emptying streets. He hadn't realized time had passed this quickly.

That’s when Roven appears, pushing past a cart with heavy footfalls. The cloak thrown over her armored shoulder sat crooked, wind-cut eyes wide with panic as she scanned the horizon. Her face shifts the moment she sees him. From fear, to fury.

“What were you thinking?!” It came before she even drew close, and the teen flinches before the last word passes her lips. Roven grabs his shoulders—too hard—then pulls him into a hug. Brief. A desperate clutch of limbs. Then lets go.

“You could’ve been—he could’ve—what in all the gods’ names were you thinking?!”

“I wanted to know the truth!”

“You don’t want the truth.