Chapter 105. Cracks

Another millimeter on that crack in the ceiling. Or maybe the same millimeter as last time. If the cot were a little higher, I could trace it with my fingers. Yagdash hasn’t been back in three meals, and I don’t know whether I dreamed his message anymore.

“—the fuck do you mean, no?” a woman shrieks.

I lever myself up on an elbow. I haven’t heard a woman’s voice since Camila last left.

“I need more protection here!” The voice grows louder, as if approaching, and I realize it is Camila. “Are you fucking listening to me? At least half a dozen men.”

Someone murmurs a response, but their voice is too low for me to hear. Their statement ends in a thud I can’t make sense of from inside my concrete cell.

“Last night, those fucking redheaded gnats hit the White Winter. We lost people. And I put my ass on the line, promising the White Winter was fucking untouchable,” she yells. “That means they’re closing in.”

“No,” the other voice rumbl