Silas moved through the corridor like he'd walked it a hundred times before — not hesitant, not guessing, each turn taken with the ease of someone who already knew exactly where the next danger was likely to be standing.
"How do you know this ship so well?" Zelene asked, keeping her voice low, matching his pace despite the ache still throbbing in her wrist where the guard had grabbed her.
"Because I work here," Silas said, easy as anything, like he was confirming the weather rather than a confession. "Or I did, up until about thirty seconds ago, when I decided knocking a colleague unconscious was worth the pay cut."
Finn, favoring his bruised jaw with one hand, nearly stumbled. "You work for them?"
"Worked," Silas corrected. "Past tense, very recently established. Try to keep up."
"That's not remotely reassuring."
"Wasn't trying to reassure you," Silas said, flashing him a grin that didn't belong anywhere near the corridor they were standing in. "Trying to keep you alive. Slightly different goal."
Zelene studied him, wary. "You infiltrated this. On purpose."
"…Took me three weeks to talk my way into their good graces," Silas said. "Charm's useful for more than getting free bread at the market, you know. Turns out men running an operation like this love a fellow who smiles a lot and asks very few questions." His grin faltered, just slightly. "Made it easier to learn their patterns. Shift changes. How many crew run light on quiet nights. Which ships they use, and when." He glanced sideways at her. "Was building toward getting these women off quietly, on my own timeline. You and your friend just accelerated things rather dramatically."
"Why," Zelene asked. "Why go through all that, alone, for people you don't even know?"
Something flickered behind Silas's easy expression — quick, gone almost before it registered.
"Let's just say," he said, "I know what it's like to be sold as something other than a person. Leave it there for now."
They reached a junction where the corridor split, one path sloping upward toward what Zelene guessed was the deck, the other continuing level, deeper into the ship's belly. Silas paused there, listening, head tilted slightly.
"Voices. Up top. Two, maybe three."
"How can you tell that from here?" Finn asked, still suspicious despite everything.
"Told you. Three weeks of very boring, very useful eavesdropping." Silas glanced back at Zelene, something calculating behind the charm now. "You, though. You're not what I expected to find down there tonight."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Silver hair, under a hood, in a town like this." His eyes moved over her, quick and assessing in a way that felt entirely different from the flirtation back in the market — sharper, more careful. "That's not the kind of detail a girl hides for fun."
Zelene's stomach tightened. "You're changing the subject."
"I'm very good at that," Silas admitted. "Occupational skill." He straightened, some of the seriousness sliding back over his features. "Later. Once we're off this boat, I'll trade you a real answer for a real answer. Fair?"
"You keep saying later."
"Because later is when it's actually safe to say things," Silas said, quieter now, some genuine weight beneath the charm for once. "I don't get the luxury of easy honesty in this line of work, Lynn." The false name landed deliberately, a small, pointed thing, like he already suspected it wasn't real and wanted her to know he'd noticed.
He knows something. About me specifically. Not just the ship.
She didn't get the chance to press it. Silas was already moving again, toward the upward-sloping corridor, voice dropping back into something quieter, more focused.
"Two guards, maybe three, between us and the deck," he said. "I can handle two. Three's trickier, especially with a room full of frightened people who don't know how to fight, waiting on us to come back for them."
"We're not leaving without them," Zelene said immediately.
"Wasn't planning to suggest it." Something almost like respect flickered across Silas's face. "Didn't expect you to say it so fast, though. Most people in your position would already be halfway to shore, thinking only about themselves."
"I'm not most people," Zelene said.
"No," Silas said slowly, something working behind his eyes that she couldn't quite read yet. "I'm starting to get that impression."
He flashed her one more grin — quick, easy, unbothered by the danger they were about to walk back into — and turned toward the corridor ahead.
"Try to look terrified," he added over his shoulder. "It'll sell better if the next one thinks he's got the upper hand before I put him down."
"I don't have to try very hard," Zelene muttered, and fell into step behind him, Finn close at her side, the three of them moving together up toward whatever waited between them and the open deck above.