Sector Three wore its night like a bruise. Rain turned the roofs slick and the alleys whispering. We lay flat on a cracked parapet across from a shuttered bathhouse where Veyra liked to hold court when she wanted to be heard and not seen.
Mara — Swift Step: Ghost Step, Lunge — eased our listening tube to a broken pane in the skylight. Tin, wire, cloth: ugly but good. Jonas — Iron Body: Stone Guard, Breaker — anchored the line to a chimney with both hands and his silence. I kept the map in my head and counted footsteps.
Chairs scraped below. Boots thudded. Then her—Veyra's voice, low and sharp.
"Helix is tired," she said. "They want a win they can name. So we gift them one."
A man coughed. "Which win?"
"The Brass Dogs," she said, amused. "They bark too loud and owe me coin. We plant a pretty gift under their grain—shards dressed red enough for a photograph. Then we leak a tip. Helix raids, holds the box up in the plaza, calls it safety. The Dogs vanish. I get quiet. Umbra doesn't save thieves."
Approval rumbled. A chair creaked.
Someone else, lazy with drink: "And the east yard?"
"That's where we keep Helix busy," Veyra said. "Feed them times and faces—correct enough to be wrong. While they count helmets, we move coin from Nine's smoke to Four's schools. The city claps."
Jonas' jaw set. The roof under us felt heavier.
Another door opened. A thin voice slid in—the gray-coated courier who'd slapped an inspection fee on our counter without blinking. "Courier from Six. Fees collected. Notices delivered."
"Good," Veyra said. "Small leashes hold best. The boy from that depot transfer?"
Paper rustled. "Name found. River district. Bread shop. Morning shift."
Mara's fingers tightened on the tube. Jonas' hand left the chimney and settled on the rope at my waist—steady, warning.
"Let him bake," Veyra said, braid clicking against her stitched coat. "Fear rises better when it rises slow."
A man near the door grumbled, "Dogs won't go easy."
"They don't have to," she said. "They just have to go public."
Mara drew the tube back a breath. Tin kissed glass. Soft, but the room below went quiet anyway. Instinct hears what ears miss.
"Up," Veyra snapped.
Boots scuffed. A chair toppled.
We slid backward over the parapet, one elbow at a time. The gutter groaned. Above us, a boot scraped the skylight; dust fell like tired snow.
Mara went first—Ghost Step—down our rain-slick ladder without waking a rung. I followed, fingers numb, shoes remembering where to land. Jonas came last—Stone Guard—his weight turned the ladder from rumor to fact.
We hit the alley. Water gurgled along the curb. The bathhouse door on the street banged open; two men spilled out, knives bright with ambition.
"Left," Mara mouthed. I nodded and took right.
She slid in—Lunge—blade tapped a wrist, knife clattered, knee found a stomach, the man folded like a bad chair. I stepped inside the other's reach and let my forearm choose his elbow. It chose no. He howled and forgot he owned steel. Jonas took two paces and shadowed the doorway. If anyone else came through, they would meet a new wall and reconsider breathing.
"Nothing," someone called from the roof. "Just wind."
"Close it," Veyra snapped. "Then learn the east yard. We don't give Helix a reason to think."
Footsteps retreated. The alley remembered being an alley.
We ghosted three blocks before standing straight. Sector Three put its mask back on. Shutters banged open; a drunk rehearsed a song; a dog argued with emptiness and won.
Back at the shop, we shed rain and names. The inspection seal on the back door hummed to itself about duty. I let it be proud. Mara perched on the table, blade across her knees. Jonas filled the corner like furniture that could bite.
"Brass Dogs," she said. "Veyra plants, Helix 'finds,' Dogs hang."
"They'll use Helix to wash their hands," Jonas rumbled.
"We cut the rope," I said. "Three parts. One: slip the Dogs a rumor with teeth—Helix raid at dawn, Veyra's gift under grain, move your stash now to a ward we pick. Two: lift the pretty box before anyone can open it. Three: let Helix raid an empty stage and declare order."
"And the courier?" Mara asked.
"Useful," I said. "Also a leak watering the wrong garden."
"Cut?" Jonas asked.
"Not yet. A leak that knows it's leaking can be guided."
Mara's mouth tilted. "You'll make the man who sold us an inspection fee pay in paperwork."
"Everyone pays," I said. "Forms are cheaper than blood."
She rolled her shoulders. "I'll take the Dogs. Their boss likes knives and compliments. I speak both."
Jonas nodded. "I will find the box."
"Don't open it," I said. "It's dressed for the plaza."
He grunted, which is how Jonas says he agrees.
I checked the cracked clock in the window, the spoon bending light wrong, and the street where people tried to believe morning could be honest.
"We do this without banners," I said. "If Helix sees us, the story dies."
Mara tapped her blade against her boot. "Then we write a better one."
She vanished through the pantry and became a woman who sold bread. Jonas pulled on his coat and became a wall with a heartbeat. I took up paper, ink, and a lie that would read like truth to a man who wanted to survive dawn.
No speeches. No glow. Just rain, brick, and a plan with teeth.