Chapter twelve: Unlikely ally

Zali Cheng didn’t take detours. Not unless they bought her time or cost someone else something they couldn’t afford. Today’s path wasn’t either. It was a straight shot—unyielding and bare—to a reckoning she didn’t want, every step tangled with old guilt and fraying patience.

The rain had just stopped, but the streets still held its memory, slick and shining with damp neon reflections, exhaust fumes curling in lazy spirals beneath the flickering light. The fringe districts stretched around her like an open wound—ragged, raw, unapologetic. She moved through them as though she belonged because, in a way, she did. Kavessra was hers—not by birth or title, but by scars, by the miles of alleys she’d scraped along, the fights she’d bled through, the secrets whispered in its shadowed corners. She didn’t romanticize the city; she understood it. Every crack in its stone, every sigh of its pipes, every silent threat lurking in the air.

Her scarf, worn thin and scratchy, scratched at her throat. Raoul’s message burned just beneath her ribs, sharp and unwanted.

She hadn’t seen him since the Courtlight job. Hadn’t spoken to him since he’d pawned her clearance tags to cover his gambling debts, vanishing like smoke when the debts came due. And now, after all that, he had the audacity to act like she owed him.

Zali scoffed under her breath, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the side of her coat as she slipped onto a quieter thoroughfare. She hadn’t checked her aetherglass since the message came through. No need. Raoul always made things worse when he showed up in person.

Ahead, the streets changed. The polished chaos of Kavessra’s higher tiers gave way to cramped corridors, half-lit by sputtering street lamps and flickering holo-ads selling anything from synthetic spices to rune-laced charms. The scent here was a harsher mix—ozone sharp, metal tang, and the ever-present undercurrent of burnt oil.

She crossed a narrow stone bridge where old Kavessra met new—arches etched with faded wards clashed against raw mag-tech plating, as if the city was holding itself together by sheer will. The rainwater pooled in the grooves, reflecting fractured neon like shards of broken glass.

Zali’s boots echoed softly as she descended into the mid-tier corridors leading toward Eastwatch Square. The district moved slower here; the crowds thinner, the shadows longer. A place where secrets hung like smoke, and the past never truly stayed buried.

Then: movement.

A figure leaned casually beneath a flickering light arch, half-swallowed by the smoke and shadows. Arms crossed, weight resting easily against a rust-worn pipe. Watching.

“Didn’t think couriers like you used the front path,” the voice said—dry, rough-edged, unmistakably familiar.

Zali stopped. Her jaw clenched.

“Jonah Redlum,” she said, voice flat. “Still hanging around places you don’t belong?”

“Still delivering things you don’t understand,” he shot back, eyes sharp.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

She frowned.

Jonah pushed off the pipe and closed the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps. Same damn coat. Same half-healed knuckles. That too-sharp smile—like a razor folded into a knife. He moved like Seabrook—not just in style but in the way he carried the weight of survival, the readiness for violence even when there was none.

Zali’s fingers curled near the strap of her satchel.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Following a rumor,” Jonah said. “Saw your name tied to it.”

“Spying on me now?”

“Nah. I don’t have that kind of budget,” he shrugged. “This city talks. I just listen better than most.”

Zali said nothing.

They stood in the quiet belly of Kavessra—steam curling lazily from vents, the faint hum of aetherlines overhead. Not enemies, not friends. Not quite.

The ghost of Seabrook clung to them both like a stubborn fog.

“You heading somewhere?” Jonah asked, voice casual but eyes wary.

Zali’s gaze sharpened. “Why do you care?”

“Last time I saw that look on your face, you were five minutes from a bullet from three different crews.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“No,” Jonah said quietly. “It was your brother’s.”

That stopped her.

Her jaw tightened, words caught in the choke of old pain. “You don’t know anything about Raoul.”

“I know he sent you into Seabrook with a parcel so hot it could’ve burned a hole through your ship’s floor.”

She said nothing.

“And I know you didn’t know what was inside. And I know if I hadn’t been there when the Spindles and the Black Teeth figured it out, you’d be dead twice over.”

Zali’s eyes darkened, but she didn’t deny it.

“It was the keys, wasn’t it?” Jonah pressed. “To the cruiser the gangs were tearing the docks apart over.”

Her nod was small, almost ashamed.

“Yeah. I thought it was just a diplomatic seal. Official papers. Raoul said it’d be a routine run. Said I’d be in and out.”

Jonah barked a laugh, bitter and dry. “You were in, alright. Almost into a coffin.”

“I didn’t ask for help,” she snapped.

“I know,” he said. “You just needed it.”

The silence between them stretched thin, brittle.

Zali looked away first, watching a powerline spider scuttle shadows across the cracked wall.

“I’m not going to thank you.”

“I’m not asking.”

Another pause. Heavy.

“Are you working a job here?” she finally asked.

Jonah shrugged. “Sort of. Tracking someone. Then caught wind of you. Figured if you’re walking into trouble again, maybe I should get ahead of it.”

Zali narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think this is trouble?”

He tilted his head. “Because you walk like someone who’d rather run.”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m going to see him,” she admitted finally. “Raoul. He pinged me.”

Jonah raised a brow. “And you’re answering?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Why now?”

She exhaled sharply, the weight of ghosts pressing down on her shoulders. “Because I need answers. And maybe… because ghosts don’t stop haunting just because you ignore them.”

Jonah nodded slow, steady.

“You want backup?”

“No,” she said instantly.

“Right. Didn’t think so.”

They stood in silence again, the city humming around them. Cables buzzed overhead, thick with ozone and forgotten electricity.

Zali started walking. Jonah followed, a few steps behind.

“I said no,” she called over her shoulder.

“I heard you,” he said, voice low. “I’m just not good at obeying orders.”

She stopped, turned, eyes flashing with weary defiance.

“We’re not doing this again. Whatever happened in Seabrook—we got out. That’s it.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t follow me.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll just be going the same way.”

Her eyes flickered—a mixture of exasperation and something softer.

“You always this difficult?”

“Only around people who nearly die next to me.”

Zali snorted, lips twitching like a smile she almost remembered how to give.

“I’m not dragging you into another mess, Jonah.”

“Too late,” he said. “You already owe me.”

She turned and kept walking. This time, she didn’t tell him to stop.