CHAPTER 115: ARE YOU IN?

Fin heard Mara open the door, Juna’s voice, bright and a little too loud, spilling into the apartment. Juna. Of all people.

Great. Just when he thought he had Mara almost convinced, or at least scared enough to cooperate. This complicated things. He stayed put in the armchair, trying to look casual, like he just dropped by for a chat.

Which was a lie. Everything about this was a lie.

He heard Mara’s flustered reply, the sound of someone trying to act normal when a walking catastrophe was sitting in her living room. He leaned back further, deliberately relaxing his shoulders.

Juna would be in the archway any second. He wondered what her face would do when she saw him. Surprise? Amusement? Or that calculating look she got when she sniffed out trouble?

"Oh, I was just, uh..." Mara stammered from the doorway. "Just tidying up."

Then Juna was there, framed in the archway, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow already starting to rise as she took in the scene. Her gaze flicked from Mara’s obviously stressed face, to the shattered wine glass and the dark stain spreading on the rug, then landed squarely on him.

The eyebrow went all the way up. Her lips curved into a slow smile. Not a friendly one. More like the smile a cat gets when it finds a particularly interesting mouse.

"Well, well," Juna purred, her voice dripping with amusement. She strolled into the living room, completely ignoring Mara’s attempt to block her view. She stopped a few feet from the coffee table, her eyes sweeping over him, taking in his changed hair, the cool clothes, the way he sat there trying to look like he owned the place.

"Fancy meeting you here, Carver. Playing houseguest?"

He just looked at her. No point trying to act surprised. She already knew this wasn’t a social call.

"Juna," he said, his voice flat. "Long time no see."

"Not long enough, it seems," she replied, her gaze flicking back to the wine stain. "Looks like I interrupted a party. Or a murder scene. Hard to tell with you slum kids."

Mara made a choked sound. "Juna! He’s—"

"He’s fine, boss," Fin cut in, still looking at Juna. "Just catching up." He saw Juna’s eyes narrow slightly at ’boss’. Good. Let her wonder.

Juna walked further into the room, circling the coffee table, her movements fluid, predatory. She perched on the armrest of the sofa Mara had vacated, crossing her legs, making herself comfortable.

"Catching up? Last I heard, the entire Association was trying to ’catch up’ with you. Kill-on-sight order, if I recall. Pretty harsh, even for them." She smiled again, wider this time. "You must have really pissed someone off."

"Something like that," he said. He needed to control this. Juna was too sharp. If she pushed Mara too hard, Mara might break. Or worse, decide helping him was too risky with Juna knowing he was here.

"So," Juna continued, "what brings the Guild’s most wanted fugitive to Mara’s humble abode? Hiding out? Or plotting something wonderfully reckless?" She leaned forward slightly. "Do tell. I’m bored."

He met her gaze. This wasn’t going how he planned. He needed that list. Juna was a complication, a dangerous one. But... a small, stupid part of him, the part that wasn’t cold logic and survival instinct, didn’t entirely mind her being here.

It was... less boring, anyway. Still, he couldn’t let her derail things.

"Just needed some advice," he said, trying for casual. "Mara’s good with... paperwork."

Juna threw back her head and laughed, a genuine, unrestrained sound that echoed in the small apartment.

"Paperwork? Oh, Carver, you almost had me. That’s rich." She wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. "Mara, darling," she said, turning to look at the still-flustered Guild liaison, "is he always this charmingly deceptive? Or is this a new development?"

Mara just stared at Juna, then at Fin, then back at Juna, mouth opening and closing silently. She looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

Fin almost felt sorry for her.

He watched Juna’s amusement, the easy way she made herself at home on Mara’s sofa. This wasn’t good. He needed Mara focused, scared just enough to be compliant, not terrified into uselessness or, worse, calling the Guild. Juna was a grenade tossed into a carefully arranged pile of kindling.

He let out a breath, a quiet sound that didn’t quite cover his annoyance. The "paperwork" lie was dead on arrival, he knew that even as he said it. Juna had a nose for bullshit.

"Alright, you got me," he said, his voice still flat, but he dropped the pretense. He leaned forward slightly in the armchair, meeting Juna’s glittering eyes. "Not paperwork."

Mara made a small, nervous sound from where she stood frozen near the archway, her hand still clutching a wad of paper towels. She looked like she wanted to evaporate.

Juna’s smile widened. "Oh, do go on. I’m all ears."

He ignored her for a second, glancing at Mara. Her eyes were wide, darting between him and Juna. He needed to dial back the "mass murder" vibe, especially with Juna here. That joke, or whatever it was, clearly landed badly with Mara.

"Jericho found me," he said, turning his attention back to Juna. He saw her expression shift, the amusement fading slightly, replaced by a flicker of something sharper. She knew that name. "My old hiding spot, the one I was using... it’s compromised. He walked right in."

"Jericho?" she repeated, her voice losing its playful lilt. She sat up straighter on the sofa arm. "He’s in Arclight? The Association actually sent him after you?" She looked him up and down again, a new assessment in her eyes. "And you’re... sitting here. Chatting."

"He’s handled," he said again, the same dismissive tone he used with Mara.

He saw a flicker of disbelief, then intense curiosity in Juna’s eyes. Good. He didn’t need to explain how Jericho was handled. The less they knew about his domain and what happened there, the better.

"So," he continued, focusing on Juna, trying to draw her into this new, slightly more plausible narrative. "If Jericho can find me, others can. Association bloodhounds. I need to know who’s on that list. Who specializes in tracking. Who’s good enough to be a real threat." He paused, then added, looking from Juna to Mara, "It’s about survival. Staying one step ahead."

Mara was still pale, but she wasn’t actively backing away anymore. She was listening, her gaze fixed on him. The fear was still there, but maybe, just maybe, the "survival" angle was registering more than the "extermination" one.

Juna tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her chin, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So, the big bad rogue Hunter needs a little help staying off the Association’s radar?"

She tilted her head. "You want Mara to pull some strings, dig into classified files, risk her neck to get you intel on who might be hunting you?" Her lips curved into a smile again, but this one was sharp, speculative. "That’s a big ask. Even for an old friend."

Old friend huh?

"I need to know who’s coming," he said simply. He looked at Mara. "She’s the only one I know who can get that kind of information."

Mara finally spoke, her voice thin. "Fin, even if I could... accessing those files... Juna’s right. The risk..."

"The risk of not knowing is worse," he cut her off, his voice firm but not overtly threatening this time. He was trying the reasonable approach. It felt weird. "They won’t stop. You know that."

Juna pushed herself off the sofa arm, "He’s got a point, Mara-dear," she said, her back to them.

"The Association doesn’t give up easily. Especially when one of their precious ’artifacts’ is involved." She turned back, leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed. "And Jericho... if he was really involved, then this is way above a simple retrieval mission. They want him gone. Permanently."

She looked at Fin. "So, what’s the plan, Carver? Get the list, then what? Play hide-and-seek forever? Pick off a few Hunters until they send someone you can’t handle?" Her gaze was intense, challenging. "Because that sounds like a losing game."

He met her stare. She was right. It was a losing game, if that was all he planned. But she didn’t need to know the rest. Not yet.

"One step at a time," he said, his voice level. "First, I see who’s holding the cards. Then I decide how to play my hand." He looked back at Mara, who was watching them both, her expression a mess of fear and indecision.

"Well, boss? Are you in? Or do I need to find another way?"