Marlowe
Security tightened overnight into something considerably more restrictive than I'd experienced even during the worst of Blackfang's earlier probing — patrols doubled, my own movement suddenly requiring an escort anywhere beyond the immediate garage and quarters, every decision run through King first.
"I can't work like this," I told him, frustration finally boiling over after the third escort of the day trailed me from the garage to the mess hall like I was something that might shatter without supervision. "I've been managing my own safety for months, King. I know how to read a room, how to protect myself. This isn't protection anymore. It's a cage."
"Vance knows your name." His voice stayed level, but I caught the strain underneath it, the particular exhaustion of a man trying
