The State Bank of Velham was, all things considered, not a great hideout. The roof had fallen in over the main hall years ago, half the floors above the lobby were skeletal at best, and there was, somewhere in the lower levels, a D-rank zombie I had personally killed and definitely not properly disposed of, which made the air on the basement landing smell like old protein-based regret.

But it had walls, sightlines from three angles, and it was the absolute last place a Black Snake search party was going to think to look. After all, banks were infested with zombies and they didn’t even have food, so people didn’t think it was a good place.

Zero kicked open the door of a small office on the second floor that had once belonged to, judging by the brass plate on the door, somebody named VAULT MANAGER.

Inside, there was a desk, a half-collapsed chair, and one window with rebar grilles still in place. Defensible enough, I guess.

"Here." She gestured at the chair. "Put her down."

I steered Ruby — that was her name, she’d told me on the run between the courtyard and the gate, in two syllables, no last name attached — toward the chair.

She let me. She sat where I put her, hands folded in her lap, knees together, eyes down, looking exactly like a doll waiting to be picked up again.

I crouched in front of her so we were at eye level and asked softly, "You good?"

She nodded once but did not look up.

"Hurt anywhere? Anything bleeding I can’t see?" I asked again.

"No, master."

I felt my face try to do a thing, and I forced it to stop. Behind me, I heard Zero very softly exhale, the kind of exhale she only did when she was choosing not to say something.

"Not master." I kept my voice gentle. "Lukas. Just Lukas. Okay?"

She nodded after some hesitation. "...Yes."

"Can you say it back?"

"...Lukas."

I nodded with a smile. "Good. That’s good. Stay there for a second. We’re going to be here for a few hours, and then we’re going to take you somewhere safer, alright?"

She nodded, but didn’t ask where. Didn’t ask why. Didn’t ask anything. Whoever Ruby had been before Black Snake took her, that person had been quietly worn down to the floorboards a long time ago.

I straightened up and walked to where Zero was watching the doorway, and I lowered my voice. "Zero."

"Mm."

"Slaves are normal here?"

She didn’t look at me when she answered. She kept her eyes on the hallway, the way she always did when something was important enough that she didn’t want to soften it by making eye contact.

"There are no universal laws, sweetheart. Each shelter writes its own. Top-tier shelters have prohibitions, mid-tier sometimes, lower-tier almost never. Halfmark sits in the lower-mid bracket, and the gangs that run it find slaves convenient. So yes, here, normal." Her jaw tightened a little. "I don’t like it either, for the record."

"How long has she been one?"

"Ask her, not me." She shrugged.

I went back to the chair and crouched again, keeping my voice soft and gentle. "Ruby. How old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

The answer was quiet and automatic.

Still, I continued asking, "And how long have you been a slave?"

"Almost ten years, master." She paused before adding, "...Lukas. Sorry."

Almost ten years. That meant from sixteen. The math hit me in the chest harder than I wanted to admit. I had been twenty-four for less than a month, and I felt, in that moment, very stupid and very young, and very angry at a world that I had thought I understood.

"You ever try to escape?"

She actually looked up for that one. Briefly. Her eyes were tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. "Many times, in the beginning. Now I serve well. It’s easier."

I sat with that for several seconds, because I didn’t trust my voice.

’Easier. She said easier. Like she’d done the math and concluded the math.’

I stood and pulled Zero into the doorway of the storage closet. I whispered, "Zero."

She said, staring right at me, "I know that face."

I announced, "I want to take her with us."

"I know that too." She tilted her head, watching me. The corner of her mouth did the thing, but softer than usual, more sad than mischievous. "She’s not a stray dog you can rescue, Lukas. What’s broken in her took ten years to break. It will not unbreak in a week."

"I know." I nodded.

"It might not unbreak ever." She repeated.

"I know that too."

She studied me for a long second, and then she leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth, just once, gentle, the kind of kiss that had no heat in it at all.

"Then take her," she murmured. "I was going to suggest it anyway. We need her, and you need her to be yours and safe, in that order."

"Both. Same order."

"Mm. Same order, sugar boy."

I went back to the chair and said, "Ruby."

"Yes." She responded in an obedient voice.

I smiled and said, extending my hand, "You’re coming with us. Not as a slave. As... a member of our shelter. We have a small one. We need help. We need you. Is that okay?"

She blinked at me. "...You’re asking me?"

I nodded and said, "I’m asking you. Yes."

She stayed silent for a while before saying, "...Yes. Of course. Whatever you want, mas— Lukas."

I sighed quietly through my nose and decided to let it be for now. The reflex was deep. Pulling it out by the root in the next ten minutes was not realistic.

I wondered why I was having these feelings toward her, as if I would do anything to protect her. As I looked into her eyes, I got my answer.

’Idiot!’

I saw myself in her. Although I didn’t experience hardships like her, I knew the pain of being all alone. Maybe that was why I wanted to be there for her, to make sure she felt safe and protected.