My boots are river mud to the ankle, and the pump house door is ten feet away.
Four Alphas are still standing on my bank like I owe them a speech.
Kestra: Go home. I've got a pump to bleed.
Dain laughs first. Of course he does.
Dain: Kestra. That tub cost me a month of market coin. I picked it out special.
Dain: You could've kept the tub. I'm wounded here.
A few of them laugh with him, and my face goes hot.
That's all I am to this town. A punchline with a wrench.
Kestra: Don't. Not one joke. Not today.
He hears it. His grin dies, and for one second he looks like a man who gets it.
Dain: Right. Sorry. No jokes.
Then he says it anyway, soft, like a gift.
Dain: You looked good throwing it, though.
The row laughs. It rolls down the fence like water.
And I'm standing in my own yard with mud on my legs, small again, like I'm twelve.
Veyla: Kept bitch. Told you. Now the whole row knows what four Alphas pay for.
Veyla: Grease and desperation. That's what they're buying.
She gets a hand on my bad arm before I can move.
The grip goes through the tape, and the wound under it opens hot and wet.
Kestra: Get off me.
She shoves. My shoulder hits the frame, and my teeth click together.
Blood comes through my sleeve and drips on the boards, one dark spot at a time.
Veyla: Listen, you packless shit. My uncle sits on the pump board.
Veyla: One word from me and your license is gone by morning. No pump. No crew. No dry street.
Veyla: Then you can pump for coin on your back in the market lane, and I'll make sure the crew that finds you first isn't gentle.
She means it. I can see the whole plan behind her eyes, neat as a ledger.
Nobody moves. Not the fence line. Not four Alphas with all that power.
So I plant my boots in the mud and raise my voice, because it's the only tool I've got left.
Kestra: Go on, Veyla. Louder. Let every stall on this row hear exactly what you are.
She spits at my boots. Then she goes, red dress swinging, and the fence line goes with her.
And Dain is still standing there, hands open, mouth half open like he's about to make it funny.
Dain: Kestra. That was my fault. I do that. I make things small so they don't hurt.
Dain: Come inside and let me try again. I'll be serious. I'll be so fucking serious.
There it is. Even his apology is a performance.
Kestra: You want to know what I'd rather do?
Kestra: I'd rather pump floodwater alone in the dark than stand here and be your joke.
Kestra: You and your tub and your pretty words. All of it.
Dain's face does something I've never seen on it. It goes still.
Dain: That's not what you are to me.
Kestra: Then stop letting the whole town say it for you.
Ulric steps forward, boots sinking in the mud, jaw set.
Ulric: She doesn't get to talk to us like that.
Aric's hand lands flat on his chest.
Aric: No.
Aric: She does. She gets to talk to us any way she wants.
Ulric: Move your hand, Aric.
Aric: Take one step toward that hatch and I'll drop you where you stand.
Aric: She's not a thing we chase down. Let her go.
My chest does something stupid at that. I hate that it does.
I get the hatch open, and the green light of the pump house comes up around me.
I don't look back. If I look back I'll cry, and they don't get that.
Kestra: Nobody follows me. Not one of you.
The hatch bangs shut behind me, and my hands shake on the valve wheel. I turn it anyway.
Up on the bank, four Alphas just stand in the wet, and none of them comes down.
Good. Let them stand there until they learn what I'm worth.