Anji forced a weak smile. She hated the thought of prodding Kit in what might be the woman’s final hours. But apart from a selfish desire to know more about the Hawk, a desire that might never fully fade, she wanted to afford the woman the opportunity, the dignity, of her attention.

I might be the last person she speaks to.

“Take a second to rest,” she said. Then she gave Kit’s shoulder a light punch. “Anyone interrupts you and I’ll fight them off.”

Another shout came from one of the crewmen on deck, and the others responded in kind. Kit settled back against the bench, her mouth a thin line. Anji’s smile faltered. Then Kit spoke.

“I ran with Spur Fiacco before I could walk,” she said. “I’ve watched my best friends die, people I considered family, at each other’s throats.” She scratched at her hand and went on, “I’ve seen a man’s entrails torn out while living. Faze fiends hallucinating in sewers. The worst a person could endure, and then some.

“The Peaks—heads of the Spurs—teach you not to care. ‘They want what they want. They bring it on themselves.’ That’s what I was told, and I believed every word. I believed it when I made my drops, knowing the hands they would fill—the lungs. I believed it when I skewered a Faze addict for a being a Celdia short on what she owed. I melted a man’s hand off for buying in different territory, and I sold him a ream of Snip as he screamed. I killed and maimed and tortured so many. I got promoted. Given more command, more responsibility. More respect.

“In all those years, I never asked why. Why buy something you know will ruin you? Why give up your job, your family, everything? Why do they feel such a need to escape? What is it they’re escaping from?”

Her shoulders rocked with each breath—Anji could hear air rattling through Kit’s spent lungs, but she stayed silent as Kit continued.

“I did everything they asked of me,” she said. “Everything.”

Anji held her breath, unsure of what to say. She imagined the Hawk cutting her own father’s throat, the way the knife had felt digging into skin. An urge rose in her to comfort Kit, to say she knew everything and none of it was her fault. She was about to speak when Kit went on.

“Years passed, and when calls for change began from inside the Spur, I silenced them. I was devoted. I would have done more, had I been asked.” She gazed out at the distant surf.