By the time Max stumbled back into the shack, his lip split and his chest aching where Jaro's boot had pressed down, Millie was already waiting.
She sat on the cot, mask hissing faintly, arms crossed tight. Her eyes locked on him the moment he stepped inside.
"You're late," she said, voice sharper than the rusted tin walls around them. Her gaze fell to the smear of blood across his chin. "And you're hurt."
Max forced a grin, though it tugged at the cut on his lip. "You should see the other guy."
"Max." Her tone dropped, soft but heavy. She'd been crying — he could tell from the redness around her eyes. "Did Kane's men—?"
"They just wanted what I owed." He dropped the two empty canisters on the floor with a clang. The sound echoed, hollow. "I gave it to them. Deal's done."
"Done? Until tomorrow." Millie's voice cracked, anger mixing with fear. "How long can you keep this up? You can barely breathe as it is—"
Max cut her off with a laugh, too loud, too forced. "Hey, I'm tougher than I look. Don't worry about me."
Her mask hissed again, and she looked away, blinking fast. Pretending she believed him. Pretending she wasn't terrified.
Max hated it more than Kane's men. More than the Quarter. More than the blood still drying on his shirt.
He sat beside her, reaching out, but she shifted just out of reach. "You're going to get yourself killed," she whispered. "And then what? What happens to me?"
The question burned deeper than any wound. Max didn't answer. He just lay back on the cot, staring at the patchwork ceiling until her breathing finally steadied.
Only then did he rise.
He checked to be sure she was asleep before pulling the object from under his shirt. Its glow cast faint shadows across the shack's walls, painting his sister's sleeping face in strange, otherworldly light.
It was perfect. Untouched. Out of place in the rusted ruin of their world.
Max turned it over and over, searching for a seam, a switch, anything. Nothing. Just that glow. Just those shifting, maddening lines.
Frustration boiled inside him, but when he tried to set it down, his hand wouldn't unclench. As if the thing had burrowed under his skin already.
A cough rattled from Millie's mask, sharp and wet. Max shoved the object back under his shirt, heart pounding.
Tomorrow, Kane would come again. Tomorrow, the gangs would circle like wolves.
But tonight, Max had a secret.
And secrets were worth more than oxygen.
To be continued…