Page 20 of Dominion’s Collar

"People have always been able to see me."

"From a distance. While you sat in a corner radiating the emotional accessibility of a sniper's nest." He drinks. "This is different."

It is different. He knows that, but I'm not going to confirm it for him.

"She's interesting," I say. Because it's true and because anything more specific will give Luc material he'll use against me for months.

"Interesting." He rolls the word around. "You do realize that's the first time you've described any woman in this club with a word that wasn't a behavioral observation."

He's right about that too. I hate that.

"There's something off about her," I say.

Luc's expression shifts. The teasing drops like a coat he can shed in under a second. "Off how?"

"She doesn't add up. The knowledge is there. The instinct is there. But she hasn't put the pieces together yet." I take a drink of water. "Her knowledge is theoretical. Her questions aren't. She watches access, people, systems. She asks about failure points when she claims she's studying consent culture."

"What do they track with?"

"When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

Luc studies me. He's the only person who reads me with any accuracy. I tolerate it because his reads are useful. And telling him to stop has never worked.

"You went through this once before," he says. "After Elysium closed. You talked to people. You asked questions. You came to me with a list of things that didn't add up, and we spent weeks pulling threads that went nowhere."

"I remember."

"The threads went nowhere because we couldn't find anything. A woman died. The coroner ruled it accidental. Nobody alleged otherwise. No evidence connected any of it."

"I remember that too."

"You know she wasn't yours to save. Her death falls on Elysium. They failed to keep their people safe."

The words land the way they always land. Like a door closing on a room I can't leave.

"I know what the official report said." I hold his gaze. "I also know what it didn't say. Absence of proof isn't the same as evidence of what really happened."

Luc doesn't argue. He's argued it before, years ago.

I think he stopped because he knows I won't be moved. I also think some part of him, the part that built Rapier with his brother, has never been entirely sure I'm wrong.

"And now there's a woman at the bar who asks the wrong questions and watches the wrong things," he says.

"Yes."

"And you want to put a collar on her."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. I've known you long enough, Sebastien. You left the booth." He finishes his bourbon. "That's louder than anything you're going to tell me tonight."

He stands. Adjusts his jacket. At the edge of the table, he pauses.

"Be careful," he says. "Not the kind of careful you do naturally. The other kind. The kind that accounts for the possibility that you might want something for reasons that have nothing to do with Elysium."

He leaves. The back bar goes quiet around me.

I take my corner back. Renata has already left a fresh glass. The scotch catches the amber light. Same as every night.