Chapter 18 - Your Word Against Everything and Everyone

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Jett started to struggle. A growling whine rose in her throat as her limbs thrashed violently, one paw slamming hard into her assailant's chest, a kick connecting hard with the big stranger's chin.

"Gah! Peace and bloody Fire, Jett, it's me!"

She froze.

"Bronco?!"

"Yes, damn it!"

Her heart almost leapt out of her chest with relief, and the tension flowed out of her body. Feeling her relax, Bronco's firm grip on her shoulders snapped free, and he stepped back, leaning on the wall of the building and tapping a claw against his lips. Jett nodded. He beckoned her to follow, slinking along in this dark gully between two shops. She squared her shoulders and tucked herself in behind him.

They emerged from the tiny alleyway out into a small market square. He popped out from between the building like a cork squeezed from a bottle, his bulky frame barely able to fit in the narrow defile. Jett slipped out after him and looked around, finding a bulging square of awnings, tables, and open-topped grill fires. Kin wandered back and forth, selling food from carts and stalls. It was loud and hot—a good place to hide.

Bronco looked like he belonged here, clad in a pair of symmetrical evergreen arm wraps and his longkilt, the fur of his brawny chest bared in the heat of the place. He looked around for a moment, making sure no other watchguards were patrolling the area, then motioned with his head towards an empty table tucked away in the corner of the square.

Wordlessly, Jett followed.

"Take a seat," he told her.

She did as he asked, slinging the pack down between her legs and sinking gratefully into one of the chairs. He took up the seat opposite her, and they sat for a moment while the world ebbed and flowed around them. Eventually, Bronco shook his head, a smile of both admonishment and admiration splitting his muzzle.

"You're not short on spine, Jett," he chuckled. "I'll give you that much. Coming this close to Palharr? I mean, this better be good."

"I don't know if it's good," she replied, allowing herself a sly smile. "But it's important."

"No kidding."

"Thanks, by the way, for getting me out of there."

"Thank me when we're done here," he replied. "I told you, watchguards are out looking for you right now, Jett. You need to be careful."

"You think I'm not being careful?" she exclaimed. "Careful is the only reason I'm still breathing, Bronco!"

"Alright, alright, alright." He raised his paws in placation. When he spoke again, however, the levity had faded from his voice, and he looked her in the eye. "I'm here, Jett, but I can't stay long. Whatever you've got to say to me, do it quickly."

She tapped her claws against the table, weighing up all the pros and cons of what she was about to do, before gathering her nerve and reaching into one pocket. From it, she withdrew a block drive. A drive loaded with every scrap of information she'd been able to dredge up on Zanzihar, Fisker, and the mysterious Belforra district. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she slid it across the table to him.

He scooped it up without really looking at it, his eyes still fixed on hers. "What's on it?"

"Everything I could find," she said. "I've been...busy, and I don't like what I've found. Have you ever heard of a district called Belforra?"

Bronco shook his head. "Should I have?"

"Not unless you're an enforcer. They've been scrubbing records of this place out of official transcripts for years, but whatever it is, it's important to all of this." Jett pointed at the drive with a claw. "On that drive is a list of relocation orders from the past three years from places across the city. All of them were signed off by designates put into positions of authority by the wolfkin, and all the orders they have authorised correspond with majority populations of the same kin."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"You know relocations aren't exactly popular at the best of times. Having one of their own kin as the designate in charge probably made the transitions go through more smoothly."

"And all of these relocations," Bronco said, cocking his head to one side as he stared at the block drive. "They're going to Belforra?"

"Not according to the official record," she told him. "But I know that's where they're going."

"And how is that?"

"Zanzihar, the felkin designate, he went there." She inclined her head to the block drive. "There's proof on there—a private memo sent from Zanzihar's personal rig three days before he died. He went to Belforra and found something that he couldn't leave alone. Whatever it was, it was on the drive he paid me to crack, but the wolfkin caught up to him before he could get the word out."

"So what did he find?"

She hesitated. "I...I don't know that yet. The memo mentions a 'proposed site,' and he says they've been lied to. He was compiling some kind of evidence to take to the Conclave, but that's all I know." Jett shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fur prickling at the prospect of what she was about to ask. "That's why I came to see you. That drive has all the information I could find on his movements over the last few days he was alive. He stopped going to the Conclave, didn't take part in votes, and withdrew a huge lump sum from his accounts. I can't track him any closer than that. If I go snooping around in the Silk asking questions about him, it won't be long before those wolfkin figure out that it's me."

Bronco shifted uncomfortably. "So you want me to do the snooping for you?"

"I know it's outside your jurisdiction," she said. "But you believed me before. This is real. Something big is going on out there, and the wolfkin are willing to kill to cover it up. I need to know how he got out to Belforra. That money was a bribe, and I need to know who he paid it to."

"And you think I'll be able to do that from what's on this drive?" He rolled it from paw to paw incredulously. "I dunno, Jett. How sure are you about this?"

"I'd bet my life on it. I already have." She nodded to the block drive. "Zanzihar isn't the only person the wolfkin have been handing out promotions to in exchange for favours. The person he sent that memo to is a foxkin designate who's involved. He's been signing off relocation orders and covering the tracks for the wolfkin. I had a...talk with him, and he told me that Belforra is where these people are really being sent, no matter what the official documents say."

"Does this designate have a name?"

"Fisker."

"Fisker? You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"By the Peace." Bronco set the drive down, folding his arms tightly.

Jett felt worry swell in her chest. "What...what is it?"

"I'm afraid Designate Fisker was found yesterday."

"What do you mean found?" she blurted, her voice rising in horror.

"I think you know." He sighed. "He was pretty badly cut up—someone dumped him on one of the tram carrier tracks. A couple of line workers found him on a morning safety check—lucky, really. They caught him before the trams could come through and pulp the body."

"The enforcers?" Jett blinked in shock. "But—I've been watching all the government announcements, anything from the Moriaran and the designates. I'd know if—"

"They kept it off the announcements," Bronco snapped. "Because they want the killer to think he or she got away with it."

Something in his tone made her stiffen. Jett tensed, eyes narrowing. "Bronco...who are they looking for?"

"Who do you think?"

The bluntness of it caught her like a slap in the face. Jett shook her head in disbelief, reeling from the implications. "That's insane. You can't think—"

"Witnesses saw him at a bar having a heated argument with a female foxkin the night before the body was found. You've just told me you talked with him. When was that, exactly?"

"Bronco, you can't believe that I killed him."

"It's not about what I believe," he growled. "Jett, the pack leaders and the enforcers are all looking at you. The fact you never surfaced, you disappeared from the district, and the felkin gang trail has been cold. You're the only other suspect on their books."

"I didn't kill anyone," she hissed, slamming a paw down on the table. "I talked to Fisker, and he was terrified, okay? I asked him about those relocations, and he clammed up—said if he told me anymore that the wolfkin would have him killed. Looks like he still told me too much."

"So I've got you against every watchguard in the district?"

"But why? Why in the Peace and Fire would I kill Fisker?"

"That I don't know, but things don't look good." He raked the claws of one paw back through his headfur in frustration. "I don't know what to think anymore, Jett. If I believe you, that means I'm losing my belief in everything else, in the whole system I've been working in my entire life. You're telling me to throw all that aside and just take you at your word. Your word against everything and everyone."

Jett didn't know how to feel. Anger, horror, fear, and blind rage churned in a soup in her stomach, leaving her staring at the vulkin for a handful of aching seconds as she tried to process what he was telling her. She knew she only had a matter of minutes before Bronco sided with his superiors and hauled her away. To the lawhouse or worse.

"Bronco, I know what I'm asking you to do," she told him, her voice shaking as she spoke. "I know I'm asking you for a leap of faith here, but you know something doesn't sit right about all this. That felkin uncovered a mess, and they killed him for it. Look into what's on that drive, and you'll see that I'm not lying." She slumped back in her seat, bitterness coiling through her. "And the wolfkin? They think they've got away with it. They've pulled the wool over everyone's eyes—yours too—got you looking at me when you should be looking over your own damn shoulder."

Bronco's thick brow furrowed, his lip twitching to reveal a massive canine. He turned the block drive over in one paw, eyes never leaving the lump of circuits and metal. Jett swallowed down the panic that threatened to come bubbling up over her, watching and waiting as the cogs turned in the vulkin's brain. After what felt like minutes, he exhaled long and slow through his nose and put the block drive down again.

"You know, when they told me you were a suspect," he said quietly, "I told them there was no way. I told them you weren't perfect, but you didn't murder people. Do you know what they said to me?"

Jett shook her head.

"They said you'd fooled me. They said you'd taken this stupid dog for a ride, that I shouldn't be questioning my orders. Stupid dog." His lip curled again, snout crunching with a snarl. "Everyone in this damn place seems to think I'm stupid." Then his eyes flashed up to meet hers, and a jolt of fear shot through her when she saw the sear of anger in his gaze. "So do you."

"Bronco..."

"Oh, you've already said as much."

"What I said to you then...I was upset—I was angry. I didn't mean it," she exclaimed. "Come on, Bronco. You know I don't think that."

"You don't?" He snorted incredulously, eyes falling back to stare at the block drive once more. "Apparently, you don't think I'm smart enough to know when these wolfkin bastards are yanking my tail because they think I'm just some mud-thick district guard who'd lose his own damn paws if they weren't attached to him!"

"You just...work by the book," she stumbled awkwardly. "That's all. You respect authority."

"That doesn't make me stupid. It means I actually care about what happens to this city."

"I know that." Jett hesitated for a moment, then gathered her courage and reached out across the table, clasping the vulkin's big paw in hers. "Bronco, look at me."

His head rose, his face a mask of frustration, but he didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she said quietly. "I'm sorry for what I said. I know you're smart, and I also know you're a good person. I'm here because I'm banking on you being the only damn guard in the district who is smart enough to read between the lines and see what's really going on here. And right now, I need your help."

She could count her heartbeats as she stared pleadingly into Bronco's eyes. A hollowness gaped in her gut as she realised this could be the end, the end of everything she'd tried to do. She would end up buried, bundled bloodily away into the night to be forever forgotten, the wheels of Wildhearth rolling on uninterrupted by her insignificant existence. With her free paw, she reached gently beneath her coat for the longclaw, ready to go down fighting if it came to that.

Then she felt Bronco's paw tighten around hers. At first, panic jolted her, and she almost tore the knife loose right there, but as the seconds passed, she realised this was no grab to stop her from escaping. It was a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement.

Still holding her paw, Bronco leaned back. His shoulders seemed to relax, and he cocked his head to one side. She held her breath without thinking.

"Apology accepted," he rumbled.

Tears of relief welled up in Jett's eyes, and she squeezed his paw tight before slumping into her seat with a shuddering breath. "You scared me."

He shrugged, letting go of her paw. "I'll take a look at this drive. Now I'm not promising you anything, but I will see what I can find out, alright?"

"That's all I'm asking."

"Okay." He nodded, more to himself than her, it seemed. "I've been lied to a lot recently, and frankly, I'm sick of it."

"So you do believe me?"

"I believe you're smart enough that if you were lying, you'd have come up with a better story. I believe that there is more going on here than my superiors are telling me, and I'd very much like to know what it is. You seem like the only one who agrees. How's that?"

"Good enough for me."

"Alright. Then get out of here—last thing we need is for the wolfkin to find us together."

"Thanks, Bronco," she said. "I swear on the Great Peace, on my family, everything I've told you is the truth. Every word. All I want is a little bit of justice for them...and I would really like not to wind up dead at the end of it."

He nodded heavily as she rose from the table. "And while I'm chasing up your felkin, what are you going to do?"

Jett shook her head. "Believe me, Bronco, you don't want to know."

Not waiting for him to reply, she turned and slipped back into the crowds once more, hunching her shoulders to fit herself into a tight gap. With an effort, she brought her breathing back under control, letting her mind empty for a moment as she calmed down. It felt like an anvil had been lifted off her shoulders, and despite everything, a feeling of relative calm descended on her. She'd waded through a lot of fire over the past few weeks, and she was still swinging. She might have been going up against the full weight of the world, but she wasn't dead yet.

That sense of calm was abruptly extinguished when she felt the unmistakable press of a blade against her flank. Every muscle in her body tensed rigidly, and she scented the presence of another foxkin, the musk pressing oppressively up against her.

"You're a bitch to find," a voice growled into her ear, the press of the knife digging painfully through the thin fabric of her body wrap. "Just keep walking, nice and normal."

Jett swallowed hard and obeyed, her brow crunching with confusion. "Who are you?"

"Little invitation from Rapid," the foxkin replied. "And not one you want to turn down. You've got a lot of explaining to do."


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