I dialed the number Brady had given me. It rang until it went to voicemail.

  I hung up and called again. Voicemail.

  "Playing hard to get," I muttered.

  I walked back into the gas station. "Brady, let me see your phone."

  "Uh, sure?" He handed over his smartphone.

  I dialed Grace’s number again. It rang three times, then went to voicemail.

  I sighed and handed the phone back. I walked out to the Terramotta to figure out my next move.

  Five minutes later, my own phone buzzed.

  [Unknown Number]: Who are you? And why are you calling from my employee's phone?

  "Smart girl," I said. She had connected the dots.

  [Me]: I'm Kaz Kaaz. Founder of Eden. I want to talk business.

  [Grace]: Are you the one who fought Axehill?

  [Me]: Yes.

  [Grace]: How do you know Axehill?

  [Me]: He has been a pain in my back for a while.

  [Grace]: Join the club. He has seized three of my family's hotels in the last month. The government does nothing. They say it's a 'civil dispute' outside their jurisdiction, even inside the Safe Zone.

  [Me]: I know. I was assaulted in the Auction House parking lot. The police didn't care.

  [Grace]: What did you mean by 'business'?

  [Me]: I want to buy your gas station.

  [Grace]: I don't negotiate via text. Meet me tomorrow. 9 AM. Mark's Coffee downtown.

  [Me]: I'll be there.

  I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

  "Convenient," I whispered as I started the engine. "The perks of being loud."

  Mark's Coffee was located in the affluent heart of Detroit, a sector that looked like the apocalypse had politely skipped over it. Manicured hedges, clean sidewalks, and armed guards on every corner.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  I pulled into the lot next to a bright pink Quad Metroid.

  "Subtle," I noted.

  I walked to the back patio. A woman in a sharp blue blazer and tailored slacks was sitting alone, sipping an espresso.

  "Grace?" I asked.

  She looked up. Her eyes scanned me, lingering on the Armor.

  "Kaz," she said coolly. She pointed to the chair opposite her. "Sit."

  I sat.

  "I looked you up after you called," she said, her tone posh and clipped. "Eden. A new faction. I hadn't heard of it until yesterday. You don't do much in the city."

  "We opened two days ago," I said. "My name is mostly unknown. My face isn't."

  "True. The video is everywhere." She took a sip of her coffee. "So, you have a problem with White Hill."

  "We all do, apparently. Tell me about them."

  Grace sighed.

  "White Hill isn't a faction," she said. "It's an empire. Axehill runs it like a warlord. He took over the Arsenal Base in Warren and uses it as a fortress."

  "He has an army?"

  "A standing military," she confirmed. "Non-cultivators armed with military grade and magical weapons and Cultivators acting as officers. They clear out gangs and squatters for the government, earning favor. In exchange, the government looks the other way when they 'acquire' property."

  "Like your hotels."

  "Exactly," she said bitterly. "They don't buy stakes. They conquer. They walk in, kill or enslave the security, and plant their flag. I can't stop them. My cultivation is weak, and my family's money means nothing when a man can punch through a tank."

  "Power rules openly now," I said.

  "It does. And White Hill has the most of it."

  I leaned forward.

  "I have a proposal."

  Grace raised an eyebrow. "You still want to buy the gas station?"

  "No," I said. "I want to merge."

  She blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "Eden and Beckenfein Holdings. We merge into a single entity. I provide the muscle to defend your assets. I take back your hotels. I kill Axehill's men if they step foot on your property."

  "And in exchange?"

  "In exchange, I use your infrastructure. Your logistics, your real estate, your gas stations. I use them to spread Eden’s influence instantly."

  Grace laughed.

  "Why would you do that? You could just take my properties. You have the power. You could walk into that gas station right now and declare it yours. That's what Axehill would do."

  "That would be sloppy," I said. "It defeats the image I'm cultivating. I am the light to Axehill's dark. To play that role, I have to be legitimate. At least publicly."

  "Also," I added, "it's too much work. Axehill has an army to garrison his conquests. I don't. I can't hold territory. But you can. You have the staff, the systems, the managers. I provide the spear; you provide the handle."

  Grace stared at me. She swirled her espresso. I could see the gears turning. She was arrogant, yes, but she wasn't stupid. She knew she was drowning.

  "Partners," she said slowly.

  "Partners."

  She finished her coffee in one gulp and stood up.

  "When do we start?"

  "Right now," I said, standing up. "Get in my car."

  "Where are we going?"

  "You’ll see," I said.