Conspirers

Octavia let out another heavy sigh of disdain.

Mohinder blinked thrice and met her gaze, looking somewhat tired, and his brow wrinkled, giving her an odd look.

“What…?” he murmured.

Octavia shot him a double-take, her mouth hanging open as she ogled the flood of red running down him. He must not have known how much he was bleeding, or how terrible it looked.

“Ah… nothing,” Octavia uttered. “You… you don’t have a first-aid kit anywhere in here, do you?”

Mohinder paused, dabbing his cheek and smearing the thick blood across his fingers, staring down at it. Then, he moved past her, turned to the left, and stepped into his small bathroom, flipping the light on and examining himself in the mirror.

“Oh,” he muttered, leaning closer to his reflection, examining his own eyes very closely. “Ohhh… ‘kay… well, that’s… not what you want…”

Octavia stood in the doorway, staring at him with concern.

Mohinder hovered quite close to the mirror, surveying his own pupils, then he leaned back again.

“Got a concussion,” he mumbled.

“Jesus…” Octavia sighed. “Well, hey… just… take it easy, and I’ll do all this packing stuff, okay? And I’m gonna go grab my first-aid kit, too. Hang on…”

She turned and marched briskly out of the apartment.

Mohinder stepped out of the bathroom to call after her, but he let out a breath and leaned against the wall, remaining quiet and feeling largely overwhelmed inside. He merely sank down to the floor, sitting there and holding his head in silence.

After digging the first-aid kit from the trunk of her car and swinging it shut—Octavia quickly traveled back up to the apartment and marched inside, closing the door and entering the bathroom. She grabbed a rag, wetted it under the faucet, and emerged from the room—kneeling beside Mohinder, popping the first-aid kit open, and wiping all of the blood off him.

Mohinder raised his head and gently rested it back against the wall, staring hazily forward at nothing in particular, allowing her to do what she intended.

Octavia wiped off every streak and smear of blood from the side of his head, the edge of his face, and all the way down his neck and collar, cleaning it all away best she could before she grabbed her antibacterial cream from the kit and applied it gently to the wound.

Mohinder didn’t move, speak, or protest. He simply sat there, allowing his eyes to drift shut and releasing a deep, tired breath.

“Thank you,” he breathed faintly.

Octavia finished everything she was doing, then paused and studied him, frowning and feeling a painful tug on her heartstrings. The longer she stared at him, the more intensely empathic she felt about everything he’d been through, and she felt convicted to simply look after him now.

Mohinder blinked himself fully awake again, his eyes wandering over to hers, and he flashed a tired half-smile.

“I’m glad you’re here again,” he said softly.

Octavia stared at him for a second, her heart fluttering, and she gave him a smile as well, gently shifting a few of his wavy black hairs from his eyes.

“I’ll always be here for you… long as you want me to be,” she promised him. “You have all your friends back now. You should let people look after you… because I know you’ve been the one looking after everyone else around you since graduation. Somebody has to do that for you , too.”

Mohinder gazed into her, huffing out a breath and looking particularly profound, trying to smile once more, though it looked a bit more broken now.

“Hey. Let’s… let’s make a deal, right now,” Octavia suggested, sitting properly before him and clasping one of his hands inside of both of hers. “Let’s decide… right now… that we’re gonna be that for each other. All of us. All five of us. Let’s decide that we’re all gonna look after each other from now on. If we can’t rely on anyone else… then we can at least rely on us.”

Mohinder stared over at her, swallowing and gingerly stroking his thumb along her hand.

“You might be the only person who could say that to me and I’d actually believe it,” he uttered with a breathless little laugh.

Octavia smirked, raised his hand, planted a kiss to his knuckles, then stood and marched back over to the kitchenette.

“Well’p… that is… my job,” she said as she dragged the bags of kitchen supplies over to the edge of the tiled floor, ready to be taken away. “The secret prepping protector of all… who lives in the background of everyone’s lives…”

Octavia moved over to the dresser and began cleaning it out next, filling a third bag with clothes and loose belongings.

Mohinder gazed straight ahead thoughtfully for a moment, then glimpsed down at the first-aid kit beside him, which was clearly filled with many more things than what had originally come in the kit whenever she’d first bought it.

Seconds later, his eyes wandered upward, fixating on Octavia with a look of intrigue.

“I never really thought of…” he uttered quietly, making a slight shake of the head. “What… what is going on with you?”

Octavia kneeled and opened the lower drawers, pulling out his clothes by the handfuls and stuffing them into the bag. She mulled over his question, unsure of how to answer.

Mohinder continued to eye her, his mind venturing into places it never really had before.

“You did that in school, too,” he remembered. “You pulled a gun on someone then… and it was… nothing to you.”

Octavia didn’t look at him. She finished packing everything from the drawers into the bag and tied it closed.

“And you did this for Eli once, too,” Mohinder knew, gently tapping the plastic shell of the first-aid kit. “You’re even more prepared for these situations than I am… and you have been for over twenty years.”

Octavia pulled all of the bags of food, clothes, and utensils over to the front door and placed them beside it, turning to him and sighing, his eyes still trained on her.

“Why are you… like this?” Mohinder genuinely wondered. “Why is it you’re always prepared for trouble…?”

Octavia gave him a long, quiet stare, not responding at first. She’d spent plenty of time in the past dreading a moment like this—a moment when Mohinder or one of her other close friends might finally notice all of her odd and unusual habits, and possibly start to see her in a worse light because of it—but, as she stood here now, she felt no anxiety, animosity, or dread at her friend’s realization whatsoever. Strangely, she felt almost numb to it, as if she simply didn’t have the care or the energy to hide the way she was anymore.

“Well…” she sauntered back over to him, sinking down and sitting beside him. “Imagine… you’re a little kid, and you’re growing up in a place where all the people around you are hurting each other a lot, or getting in fights with the neighbors, or forgetting their kids somewhere, or just running out of food all the time because your stepmom hoards it all for herself and her kids. What would you learn?”

Mohinder stared at her, looking surprised, and also disturbed.

“You’d learn… you have to be ready for fighting all the time… you have to stash everything you need if you wanna have anything… and… you can’t ever rely on anybody else,” Octavia surmised. “And… if you’re me… you might even end up overcompensating the other direction, and trying to be a person who can always be relied on. But… that’s just a personal thing I always feel called to do. God knows I’ve never actually been able to pull that off for real. Listen… the point is…”

She sighed and leaned on the wall next to him, folding her arms atop her knees.

“I… don’t like it,” Octavia disclosed. “I don’t like hurting people… I don’t like threatening to hurt people… and I don’t like being around people like that. But… I did get pretty damn used to it. From growing up in Dad’s house to all the great adventures of being homeless… I’ve had to wave a gun at threats a million times… and I never liked it… but it’s also never been super hard to do. This is why I loved being around you guys so much… because you’re the only people who didn’t make me feel like I had to be on-guard all the time. I could just like… be a person around you. Y’know…?”

Mohinder gazed over at her silently, wearing a reflective and perturbed expression.

“I can’t believe I never knew any of that about you,” he murmured, looking forward and sighing. “What kind of friend have I been to anyone over the last twenty years…?”

“Oh… come on… none of us have been perfect since we got out of school,” Octavia snickered. “You really wanna compare mistakes? Because I’ve been living in my car , Mohinder. I don’t care how bad of a friend you think you’ve been. You’re not the one who ended up being a literal hobo.”

Mohinder scoffed out a laugh, smirking and shaking his head.

Octavia surveyed him, pleased to see him smile again.

Mohinder looked down, maintaining his smile and patting the top of her hand.

“Well. Maybe I can get it right this time,” he said.

“Me too,” Octavia agreed.

Mohinder clutched her hand for a moment, giving her a warm, contented look before he released it. Then, he placed his hand to the wall and reached his feet, glancing around the room.

“Just the table, the TV, and the blankets and pillows,” Octavia said, standing up as well. “Right…?”

“Yeah. And listen… I appreciate the offer, but you’re certainly not moving all of my stuff on your own,” Mohinder said, wagging a finger at her as he walked by. “I planned to get the big things myself, and I’m going to. I need to be kept awake, anyway… and manual labor will do it…”

Octavia breathed out a faint little laugh—then broke into action and began to help him.

The two of them would have everything of import removed from the studio apartment within the hour.

During the time when Mohinder and Octavia were just finishing packing everything into their two cars—the other three of the misfits five all happened to be at the same location.

Samuel and Hailey had been waiting around in the lobby of the police station for an irritatingly long while before a husky uniformed man finally emerged from the back and took his place behind the front desk. Samuel didn’t waste a second; he stormed directly over to the desk with his sister at his heels.

“Hey. We need to make a police report,” he said, leaning on the desk with both hands. “Guy named David Louise—he fractured my sister’s wrist yesterday.”

The man behind the counter perched his bushy brow at him.

“The, uh… the incident in Graceview yesterday?” the man asked. “There’s already a report on that.”

Samuel blinked and shot him a double-take. “There is…?”

“Yes… the police were called out there, and they submitted the report after they got done questioning her,” the man explained.

Samuel stared at the man with a deadpan visage, making a slow, silent turn and gazing vacantly over at his sister.

Hailey fidgeted with the ends of her sleeves, swaying to and fro and gently biting the end of her thumbnail.

“Ahhh…” she breathed, making a wincing sort of face. “You know what I forgot happened…?”

“You’re an ass ,” Samuel griped, jabbing a finger at her. “Were you not paying attention at all yesterday? Did they not tell you they were submitting a report? You know what—don’t answer that. You’re not even gonna remember, because fuck if you could ever pay attention to anything around you!”

He whipped around and planted his hands to the front desk again, cocking his head at the man behind it.

“Hey—so, could we get a restraining order on the guy?” Samuel asked. “Just to be safe?”

“Well… you could, but I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna be out for a while,” the man shrugged. “You’re safe now.”

“Tch. He’s safe now,” Samuel grumped, his eyes flickering over to the back door. “He better count his lucky fuckin’ stars that he’s outta my reach.”

The officer behind the counter stared, his eyes narrowing pensively at him.

Samuel caught his glare and made a chuckle. “Come on, man… wouldn’t you be muttering angry shit under your breath if somebody attacked your sister? Gimme a break. I’m human. I’m not actually gonna kill some goddamn body.”

The officer scoffed out a dry little laugh, shaking his head down at his desk.

“Well?” Samuel turned and perked his brow at his sister. “You wanna get a restraining order? Or you wanna just leave?”

Hailey pondered on this, wandering over to the desk and leaning on the side of it, giving the officer in the chair a questioning look.

“What do you recommend?” she inquired, the back door easing open behind her. “Is there any possibility of David getting out early? Or getting parole?”

“Well… he could get parole, but given his circumstances, staying away from you would certainly be worked into the terms of his parole,” the officer explained. “And I don’t find it particularly likely that he’d get approves for parole, anyway.”

“Oh. Okay… well… I guess it doesn’t matter then,” Hailey shrugged. “We can just g— eeek! ”

She suddenly squealed when someone grabbed both of her shoulders from behind—whipping around and seeing Eli right behind her, snickering at the frightful look on her face.

“What’re you doing here?!” Hailey breathed, glancing over and seeing a second person emerge from the door in the back.

“Talkin’ to my buddy, Dusty Hargrove,” Eli informed, nodding over at the man beside him, a man in a tan uniform, a tan hat, and a shiny badge. “Chief of police bui’ness.”

Samuel and Hailey both glanced over at the apparent chief of police for Wallace. Dusty Hargrove was a larger man in both height and muscle tone, with short black hair and a trimmed beard to match it, friendly brown eyes and a jovial smile.

“Dusty… these are my white people,” Eli introduced, gesturing between the chief and the Ryder siblings. “My white people… this is my friend on the inside.”

Dusty chuckled, offering his hand. “Pleasure to meetcha.”

Samuel returned his handshake, making an odd face, his eyes shifting between Dusty and Eli. “Ahm… okay… and… why’re you meeting up with the chief of police?”

“I’m a county commissioner,” Eli shrugged. “And we came to the conclusion in our last meeting that some law breakin’ might be goin’ on, as far as how that plot of land is gonna be used. Just askin’ my buddy here to keep an eye on it.”

Before anyone could reply—the double-doors suddenly exploded open, sunlight washing into the lobby, and a furious woman stormed inside with haste, rounding on Dusty.

“ Daddy! ” Rachel shrieked, the doors swinging shut behind her. “I need to make a report! Now!”

“Ah…” Dusty uttered, eyeing her strangely. “Whatcha mean?”

“I mean I was assaulted ,” Rachel stated, shaking her fists by her side and spreading her arms. “Hellooo? Look at me!”

Dusty, as well as everyone else, looked her up and down. Aside from her wavy brunet hair being the slightest bit askew, she looked perfectly normal.

“You look fine,” the chief grunted.

“No! I was attacked! ” Rachel insisted. “I went to go help my boyfriend move things out of his apartment, and he was there with another woman! Another woman who attacked me!”

“Rachel… sweetheart… you don’t look attacked,” Dusty told her pointedly. “What exactly did she do?”

The moment they heard the name Rachel—Eli, Samuel, and Hailey all traded subtle, thoughtful glimpses with one another.

“I went there and started going through stuff for Mohinder—you remember him, right? I think you’ve met him,” Rachel said to her father, and he nodded. “Anyway—I started organizing stuff, and that girl he was with just started accusing me of stealing from him out of nowhere. Now, I’ll be the first to admit—I lost my temper a little bit, and I did argue with her—but then she pulled a freaking gun on me.”

Everybody paused.

Samuel was the only one who couldn’t fully repress his initial reaction; he scoffed out a dry, chiding laugh, making a face and shaking his head incredulously.

Rachel’s head whipped around, her eyes narrowing into slits at him. “The hell are you laughing at?!”

“You,” Samuel replied bluntly, pocketing his hands and giving her a cold look. “I know who you’re talking about—and I gotta say, I smell some bullshit wafting outta your mouth.”

“ Excuse me?” Rachel breathed, reeling back and placing a hand to her chest as if she was horribly offended. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Who even are you?”

“I… am pretty good friends with Mohinder. And Octavia,” Samuel told her. “And lemme tell you something right now. Octavia would never do that, not unless she had a really good reason to. You’re leaving something out of the story.”

Hailey nodded quietly in agreement with her brother.

Rachel huffed at him, poking her lips out angrily.

“So…?” Samuel slid his hands from his pockets and held them out, raising his brows at her. “Enlighten us? Whaddid you do? Hm? Because it had to be violent. She wouldn’t pull out a piece unless she had to diffuse something dangerous… like… someone attacking her. Or attacking Mohinder. Either or.”

“Um—first of all, no, you’re wrong,” Rachel snarled. “And second of all—it doesn’t matter. You’re not allowed to just point a gun at people whenever you want.”

“Actually… that situation would be considered either self-defense or defense of others,” Eli said knowingly.

“Both of which are legal,” Samuel affirmed. “Especially if you were trespassing in Mohinder’s home while you were attacking them. This is a stand your ground state, ain’t it?”

“Ye’ap… it sure is,” Eli nodded.

Rachel’s eyes darted between the two of them furiously, Hailey hooking a finger over her mouth and hiding an amused smile.

“Rachel,” Dusty sighed, giving his daughter a look. “If you want to file a police report… then it is very important that you tell the truth in it. Filing a false one will land you in some serious trouble. You know that.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped, ogling her father as if he had just smacked her across the face.

“That girl points a gun at me, and I’m being told that I’m gonna get in trouble?” she whined. “Are you kidding me right now?!”

“Well… these two are apparently friends of hers, and they don’t believe she would do that unprovoked,” Dusty said, motioning over to the Ryders. “And if that turns out to be true, and you’re found to be lying in a police report… then there will be consequences for that.”

“I have to chime in here, Dusty Rhodes,” Eli said, taking a step forward and raising a finger. “I actually know her pretty well, too… and I’d have to agree with my gaggle of white people on this one. I don’t see Octavia doin’ any of that without some serious provocation.”

Dusty made a nod, then faced his daughter again, lowering his head slightly and giving her a paternal sort of stare.

“Do you want to tell me the rest of the story?” he asked lowly.

Rachel glared at him for a long, quiet moment before huffing out another breath and shaking her head. “I did tell you the whole story, Daddy. I’m not lying.”

Dusty examined her, crooking his jaw and frowning. He turned to say something to Eli—but he paused, seeing that Eli was now making a phone call, holding his Samsung to his ear.

And miles away, deeper into town—Octavia was driving her KIA Soul down Williams Street, turning left at one of the lights and following a smaller road off to where her storage unit was. Her back seat and trunk were filled with Mohinder’s belongings, and his car was as well, though his Sedan was still parked back at the apartment complex for the time being. Mohinder was slumped quietly to the side, his head resting against the passenger window, and his eyes drifting shut.

Octavia glimpsed over at him a couple of times, seeing that he was falling asleep—then she suddenly tapped the brakes and sent him jolting forward.

Mohinder made a strange choking noise, quickly blinking himself awake and straightening up in his seat. He turned and gave her an odd look.

Octavia glanced at him again and laughed. “You told me to keep you awake.”

Mohinder’s mouth opened, then he sighed and made a sideways nod, leaning back against his seat again.

Seconds later—Octavia’s phone began to ring, and she dug into her jacket with one hand while she drove with the other, pulling it out and answering the call.

“M’yeah?”

“Heya, OC,” Eli replied, turning and looking at Dusty and Rachel. “I got a question for ya.”

“Shoot,” Octavia said.

“M’kay… well, I came ‘round to meet with my buddy after my first meeting of the day… and, um… this buddy of mine happens to be the chief of police,” Eli explained. “And… his daughter just showed up claiming you pulled a GAK on her after you and her got in an argument. We were just wonderin’ if there was any more to that story from y’all’s end.”

Octavia fell very silent for a moment, tapping her thumb to the steering wheel as her expression fell stony, and her mind began to race a mile a minute. Within seconds, she knew precisely how to respond to this.

“Yeah. There is. Just hold on for a second,” Octavia said, looking down and minimizing the phone call screen, opening up the camera app instead.

Mohinder glimpsed between her and the windshield. “Y… you shouldn’t be doing that while you’re driving.”

“I know. Here, you do it,” Octavia replied, handing him the phone, then beginning to roll up the sleeve of her left arm while she drove. “I need you to take a picture of my arm… and then take a selfie, and send them both to Eli. Please.”

Mohinder stared at her for a second, then he obliged, and he held the phone up over her arm. Her left arm was exposed now, and it had a rough, blackening bruise on it. He snapped a picture of the bruise, then flipped the camera around and took a picture of himself, sending both images to Eli. After that, he handed the phone back to Octavia, and she held it to her ear again.

“You get those?” she asked.

Eli put her on speakerphone, lowered the phone, opened his messages, and found the two pictures, opening them and examining them closely. “Ooof. Yeah. Yeah, I got ‘em.”

“That’s what she did,” Octavia said gravely. “She attacked both of us. She threw one of Mohinder’s lamps at me, and I had to knock it back with my arm… and she busted his vase over his head and gave him a concussion. She also started baiting us and cussing at us, saying she dares us to fight back, because her dad is the chief of police, and she could make us disappear if she wanted to. It was a lot of threatening and attacking, just because Mohinder told her that he didn’t want her to take the keepsakes that his friend left him. I don’t know what she’s telling everybody there, but she was the one doing all the assaulting.”

Everybody in the lobby of the sheriff’s office was able to hear Octavia’s echoing voice now, and Eli was holding the phone in front of Dusty, allowing him to see the pictures as well. All the while, Rachel continued to simply gape at the phone in Eli’s hand as if it had just called her a wide variety of slurs, the color slowly draining from her face.

Octavia made a strange, peculiar expression as she drove, glaring intently out the windshield and feeling an odd sensation inside, almost as if she could sense Rachel in the room with Eli and whoever else was there, as if she knew for certain that the woman could hear her right now. Then, her mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile, and she spoke on with a softer tone.

“Did she think she could just go there and lie? ” Octavia added, breathing out a laugh.

And—just as she had anticipated—this sent Rachel into a rage.

“I am not lying! ” Rachel screamed at the phone, rounding on it and jabbing a finger down at it stupidly. “You pointed a gun at me and said you were gonna kill me!”

“Mm. No. I didn’t,” Octavia replied smoothly. “All I did was push you away and tell you to back off.”

“ What? !” Rachel exploded, her voice hitting such a high note, it shook and practically broke. “Oh— you lying little bitch! ”

Samuel, Hailey, and Eli all stared at her with chagrin in the lobby, and Octavia simply let out another laugh in her car, preparing to reply.

But before she could—Mohinder suddenly snatched the phone from her.

“Rachel. It’s me. Listen,” he started, his voice unusually low and grating. “You’re already fairly lucky that neither of us were planning to press charges against you—and you really ought to stop pushing your luck by going behind our backs and lying to the police. You put your hands on me. You repeatedly shoved me and dared me to hit you. You tried over and over again to bait a reaction out of me—and you threw a tantrum when you couldn’t manage to. You hurt a close friend of mine—you hurt me—you tried again to steal from me today—and you are actually trying to get us into legal trouble as an act of punishment because we didn’t just fold to you. So—I am going to make this very clear to you. Do not call me anymore. Do not come looking for me. Do not contact any of my friends—and leave us all alone. I am absolutely done with you—and I never want to see your face again. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a long, tense silence following his words.

Everyone in the lobby of the sheriff’s office stared at Eli’s phone intensely, Rachel gaping at it with angry dismay as her eyes began to water. Samuel and Hailey—who had rarely ever heard Mohinder sound so rife with authority—traded surprised glances with one another, Eli raising his eyebrows down at his phone, and Dusty merely staring at his daughter gravely.

Octavia made a slow left turn onto a narrower road, glimpsing over at Mohinder and feeling almost shocked at him now. He hardly ever became confrontational—but now, he looked stern and angry in a way he almost never did, and he’d spoken to Rachel in a flat, unfeeling way that Octavia might have never heard from him before now.

Rachel’s nostrils flared, sniffing and swallowing, gazing down at the phone in Eli’s palm as if it had ruined her life.

“You never used to talk to me like that before,” she murmured.

Mohinder scoffed dryly. “I should have a long time ago.”

Rachel’s expression fractured, letting out a faint little whimper.

“Well… I guess you’re done settling for me,” she mumbled snidely, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Now that you have better people to run to.”

Mohinder’s mouth drifted slightly open, sparing this final guilt trip from Rachel a very brief thought, but then, he shrugged and nodded sideways, leaning back in his seat.

“And don’t you forget it,” he affirmed conclusively—immediately hanging up the phone.

Octavia glanced at him in surprise.

Everyone in the lobby of the sheriff’s office gazed at the phone as the call ended, and another awkward silence fell.

“Well’p. That was fun,” Samuel broke the silence, clasping his hands together and looking to his sister. “Shall we?”

“Good God, yes.” Hailey instantly broke into a brisk stride toward the exit. “I could cut the tension with a knife in here…”

The Ryder siblings made their leave, and Eli pocketed his phone, tipped his hat to Dusty, and marched out of the building as well.

Now, only Dusty and Rachel remained in the lobby, and the father turned to the daughter, nodding toward the back door before leading her over to it. Rachel wiped her eyes as she followed him into the more secure area of the facility, down a narrow manila hallway, and past several doors on either side.

Eventually, Dusty turned left, stepped into his office, and held the door open for his daughter. They both entered the room, then Dusty closed it, and—the other three people in the room perked up at the sight of them.

Dusty’s office was a medium-sized one with only a single window behind his long, cluttered desk, the wall behind it covered with papers and boards, and in front of his desk were three wooden chairs. One of the people occupying his office was sitting slacked back lazily in the farthest chair, and the other two were leaning against the front of his desk, eyeing him rather expectantly. The man slacked back in the chair was Judas Monterey, puffing on a vape pen and combing his hairs back. The one standing nearest the corner of the desk was a husky man in a suit that barely fit him, with balding gray hairs and a rounded face, a man from the federal government by the name of Ed Harrison—and in the center stood a man in a navy suit, his hairs short, dark, and neat, and his eyes a piercing blue. This was the mayor of Wallace—Nathan Gallagher.

Dusty sighed and glanced around at them all, locking the door.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said. “Y’all been waiting long?”

“Not long enough to get paid, apparently,” Judas snarked, rolling his neck at Ed Harrison.

Ed merely stared at him, frowning silently.

“Yeah—talking to you, lumpy,” Judas added. “How long do I have to sit here before I get what I’m owed?”

Ed huffed out a heavy breath, reaching into his suit and pulling out an envelope. He stepped halfway over to Judas and handed it to him, Judas snatching it and immediately tearing into it.

“You have barely earned that,” Ed growled.

Judas blinked and looked up. “Um, excuse me?”

“You haven’t managed to pull even one commissioner over to the correct side of the voting,” Ed clarified. “Not even the dumbest and most malleable one there.”

Judas tilted his head, expression falling caustic. “Well, sorry, but some dumb little cunt broke into the meeting and just overtook the shit this last time… and she’s gonna run for a fifth chair now, too. She talked them into passing a motion for a fifth commissioner, so now you’re gonna have even more problems on your stumpy hands, fatty.”

“No. You are,” Ed said warningly. “Because if you don’t find a person who will play ball and run against her…”

“What, are you gonna kill me?” Judas laughed.

Ed gave him a dark, threatening glare.

Judas’s smile faded.

Nathan, who had been standing silently against the desk with folded arms, seemed to fixate on Rachel, raising a hand and gently wagging a finger at her.

“Speaking of playing ball,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm and soft. “Did you do what I asked?”

Rachel, still feeling emotional, wiped her eye and with her thumb and nodded. “Yeah… sorry, I… I’m having a bad day.”

Nathan stepped toward her. “Didn’t sell those houses?”

“No… no, I didn’t,” Rachel affirmed. “I managed to scare people off from the ones you wanted reserved.”

Nathan nodded, pulling a folded check from his pocket and handing it to her. “Good girl.”

Dusty glanced between the two of them. “Shit. You’re not bringing in more illegals, are you? Because that shit got impossible to cover up the last time…”

“No. Not this time,” Nathan replied. “That was an early phase. This… is for a final one.”

Dusty stared at him strangely. “Do I even wanna know…?”

“No… I’d say not,” Nathan replied, sliding another check from his pocket and planting it into his palm. “Just do what you always do, and you’ll be fine. We’re brewing up a storm, here… and we’re all gonna be riding it out together.”