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I smile and keep working.

When I finally finish, Mercy bends beneath the lamp and studies the practice face. She moves it slightly and waits longer than necessary because she is mean.

Then she looks at me. “You see the edge?”

I lean closer.

Barely.

“Yes.”

“Good. Means you know what you’re looking for.”

I straighten, and Mercy peels off one glove.

“You got hands for this, Sweet.”

Something catches beneath my ribs, and for once it has nothing to do with fear or Bitter.

Mine.

“You think so?”

“I don’t waste compliments. Makes people lazy.”

Junie whispers, “That was basically a marriage proposal.”

Mercy points at her. “Go sterilize something.”

Junie laughs and walks away.

I look down at my hands. For the first time since I ran, I see something besides hands that packed bags, locked doors, gripped steering wheels, and held phones waiting for threats.

Maybe they can build something too.

My phone buzzes on the workstation, and every muscle in my body locks.

Mercy sees it immediately. “So much for the moment.”

I look down.

Not Razor.

CSI.

Need permission to pull carrier metadata from last night’s messages. Don’t need message content. Bitter said ask you.

I read it twice.

Bitter said ask you.

Mercy reads my face, not the screen. “Bad?”

“No.”

That surprises me.

I type back.