Chapter 67: Insulting

"Everything about you bothers me." She glanced back at him, and something like a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"You showed up naked in my city, killed two people, stole a guard’s uniform, and somehow convinced me to let you walk free on the promise that you’d be useful someday. Now you’re running a massage parlor out of a brothel, farming Talents from women who have no idea what you’re actually doing to them, and building alliances with criminals and Inquisitors on both sides of the law."

She shook her head slowly, and the smile grew by a fraction.

"You’re a mess. You’re a complete and total mess. And somehow you’re also the only person in this entire city who’s actually accomplished anything worthwhile in the past two weeks."

The admission hung between them for a moment before Nacho found his voice.

"I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or insulting me."

"Both. Probably." She started walking again, and he fell into step beside her without thinking. "The point is, I don’t have the luxury of moral purity right now. Lumen is dying. My people are being squeezed between an Empire that wants to own us and pirates that want to kill us. Korith is selling us out to the highest bidder, and I don’t have enough proof to stop her."

She stopped at the entrance to a narrow alley, turning to face him one last time.

"You asked me what I think about your methods. Here’s my answer. I think they’re working. And right now, that’s the only thing that matters."

The conversation shifted after that, moving from confession to logistics with the kind of abrupt transition that Nacho was starting to recognize as pure Sera. One minute she was laying bare her thoughts on his questionable morality, the next she was pulling a folded map from her pocket and spreading it against the alley wall.

"The Consortium’s operations extend further than Vance realizes," she said, tracing lines across the parchment with one finger. "These are the shipping routes I’ve been tracking. See how they converge here?"

Nacho leaned in to look, his Apex Senses automatically cataloging the information. Three major trade routes, all funneling toward a single point in the northern part of the city.

"That’s the warehouse district."

"The warehouse district where you just dismantled Daven’s operation, yes." Sera’s voice carried a note of approval that she didn’t bother to hide. "But Daven was just one node in a much larger network. There are at least four other nobles operating at his level, each one reporting to Vex through intermediaries."

"You want me to take them down."

"I want you to map them first. Find out who they are, what they control, and how they connect to each other." She folded the map and tucked it back into her pocket. "The Consortium is like a spider web. Cut one strand and the spider just spins another. But if you can find the center..."

"You find the spider."

"Exactly." She met his eyes, and something fierce burned in those pale blue depths. "Vex isn’t the top. She can’t be. Someone with her profile, her visibility, wouldn’t risk everything by putting herself at the center of a criminal empire. She’s a face, a figurehead. The real power is somewhere else."

Nacho considered this, turning it over in his mind like a puzzle piece. It made sense. Vex had been too calm during their confrontation, too confident. She’d walked away from an armed standoff without breaking a sweat, treating the entire thing like a minor inconvenience rather than a genuine threat.

Someone who reacts like that either has nothing to lose or knows they can’t actually be touched.

"What about the Sirens?" he asked. "You said Korith is connected to the Consortium. How deep does that go?"

"I don’t know yet. That’s what I need you to find out." Sera’s expression hardened. "If Korith is the only traitor, I can deal with her. But if she’s part of something larger, if the rot goes deeper than one Elder..."

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

If the corruption went deep enough, dealing with it would mean tearing apart the very structure that held Lumen together. It would mean civil war among the Sirens, at a time when they couldn’t afford to fight each other.

No wonder she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. She’s not just fighting external enemies. She’s trying to figure out who she can trust inside her own house.

"The month you gave me before following," Nacho said slowly. "You used that time to watch me. To see what I’d do, who I’d contact, how I’d operate."

"Yes."

"And now you’re here because you’ve decided I’m trustworthy enough to work with directly."

Sera’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"I’m here because I’ve decided you’re useful enough that I can’t afford to let you operate without oversight. Those aren’t the same thing."

The honesty was refreshing, in a brutal sort of way. She wasn’t pretending to trust him. She was openly admitting that she saw him as a tool, valuable but potentially dangerous.

Fair enough. That’s pretty much how I see her too.

"One more question," he said.

"Ask."

"Voss’s daughter. Rhea." He watched her face carefully as he spoke the name. "You know about her visits to my massage parlor in Lumen."

Something shifted in Sera’s expression. Not surprise, he’d expected that she already knew. But something else, something that looked almost like amusement.

"The Captain of the Third Legion showing up at a back alley massage parlor? Yes, I’m aware." Her voice was dry enough to sand wood. "I’m also aware that her father changed his vote at the Elder council specifically because you apparently gave her the best massage of her life."

"Did that bother you?"

"The massage or the vote?"

"Either. Both."

Sera was quiet for a moment, her pale eyes studying his face with an intensity that made him want to squirm.

"Rhea is an adult," she said finally. "She made her own choice to visit your establishment, whatever her reasons. And her experience there, whatever it involved, was apparently positive enough that she spoke highly of you to her father."

"That’s not an answer."

"You keep saying that." She tilted her head, a gesture that reminded him uncomfortably of a hawk sizing up prey. "Fine. Here’s a clearer answer. I don’t care who you seduce or massage or charm with your tentacles. I care about results. If sleeping with every captain in the Siren military is what it takes to achieve those results, I’ll personally write you a list of names."