CHAPTER 116: WHY THE HATE?

Mara’s shoulders sagged. The air in the apartment still felt thick with Fin’s unsettling presence, even after he agreed to her conditions – or at least, pretended to.

"Alright," she said, her voice tired. "The list. But it won’t be quick. Accessing that level of Association data, bypassing their security without raising alarms... it’ll take a few days. Minimum."

He nodded, pushing himself up from the armchair. The casual movement didn’t match the cold calculation that moments before filled his eyes. "That’s fine," he said. "I have my own plans in the meantime." He didn’t elaborate. He never did.

He walked towards the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "Thanks, boss." Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft finality.

Mara stood there, staring at the closed door, the silence amplifying the thumping in her chest. The smell of spilled wine was sharp in the air. She finally let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

"Are you completely insane?"

Juna’s voice, sharp as broken glass, cut through the quiet. Mara spun around. Juna stood by the archway, arms crossed, her earlier amusement replaced by a furious glare.

"What the hell was that, Mara?" she pushed off the archway, stalking into the living room, her heels clicking angrily on the floorboards.

She stopped, deliberately stepping right into the edge of the wine stain. "You’re actually going to help him? That... that little monster?"

Mara flinched. "He’s not a monster. He’s just..."

"He’s just what?" she snapped, her eyes blazing. "Confused? Misunderstood? Did you hear him? Di you see the look in his eyes? And you’re going to hand him a target list?"

"He said he was not going to hurt anyone!" Mara protested weakly, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears. The chill from Fin’s earlier pronouncement hadn’t fully left her.

"Oh, please. That kid is dangerous. More dangerous than any of us thought. And you’re just going to... enable him?" She gestured around the messy apartment. "He breaks into your home, terrifies you, and you roll over and offer him classified intelligence?"

Mara bristled. "I didn’t roll over! He needs to know who’s after him. For survival! He said Jericho—"

"I don’t care what he said about Jericho!" she cut her off, her voice rising. "He is Jericho, don’t you get it? He’s the boogeyman now! And you, you’re playing right into his hands!" She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a furious hiss. "Why, Mara? Why are you doing this? What has gotten into you?"

Mara stared at her, genuinely bewildered. This wasn’t the Juna she knew. The anger, yes, Juna could be sharp, cutting.

But this... this felt personal. Almost venomous.

"I don’t understand," Mara said, shaking her head. "You... you were the one who was nice to him at the Guild. When he first showed up. You talked to him, joked with him. You even walked him to Jolly’s office that day."

Juna’s face tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes before the anger returned, harder this time. "That was before," she said, her voice clipped. "Before he showed his true colors. Before he became... this."

"Before what?" Mara pressed, confused. "Before he got power? Before he started fighting back against the people trying to kill him?" She frowned.

"I’m the one who hated him, remember? I thought he was a waste of space. You were practically his only friend in those first few weeks."

Juna scoffed, turning away, pacing a few steps before whirling back. "Friend? Don’t be ridiculous. I was curious. He was an anomaly. An F-rank with a useless power. It was... amusing." Her lips curled into a sneer. "But this? This isn’t amusing anymore. This is serious. And you’re being a fool."

Mara watched her, a strange feeling settling in her stomach. Juna’s explanation felt thin. Amused? Curious? Maybe. But there was a heat to her anger now, a protective fury almost, that didn’t quite fit.

Protective of who? The Guild? Or just... against Fin?

"So you suddenly hate him because he’s not a helpless charity case anymore?" Mara asked quietly.

Juna’s eyes flashed. "I hate him because he’s a reckless, dangerous variable who’s going to get a lot of people killed! Starting with you, if you’re stupid enough to keep helping him!"

Mara looked down at the wine stain, then at her own hands. They were trembling slightly. When did she stop seeing Fin as just a slum kid? When did that pity, that grudging respect for his survival, turn into... this? This willingness to risk everything?

"Maybe he is dangerous," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But the Association... they’re no better. They lied. They framed him. They sent an assassin." She looked up at Juna, a new resolve hardening her own gaze. "Someone has to stand up to them. Someone has to push back."

Juna just stared at her, her expression incredulous. "And you think that someone is Fin Carver? The boy who talks about target list like it’s a grocery list? With you as his goddamn quartermaster?" She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her. "Gods, Mara. When did you get so soft? So stupid?"

The question hung in the air, echoing Juna’s earlier words about Leo. Soft. Stupid. Mara felt a flush creep up her neck. She didn’t have an answer. Not one she was ready to voice, anyway. Not even to herself.

Mara felt a familiar defensiveness rise, but it was tangled with a new, uncomfortable uncertainty. Soft? Stupid? Maybe. She didn’t feel soft. She felt... tired. And angry. And scared. Mostly scared.

But scared of Fin? Or scared of what the Association was capable of? Or scared of Juna, standing there looking like she wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled? It was all a confusing mess.

"I’m not being soft," she said, her voice quiet but firm. She walked past Juna, deliberately stepping over the wine stain as if it wasn’t there, and retrieved the bottle from the counter.

Her hands were remarkably steady as she poured another glass, filling it higher this time. She took a long sip, the cheap red wine acrid on her tongue. "I’m being realistic."

Juna snorted, turning to watch her. "Realistic? Helping a rogue Hunter with a god complex and a kill list is realistic now? Did I miss a memo?"

Mara leaned against the kitchen counter, swirling the wine in her glass. "He needs that information to survive. You said it yourself – the Association won’t stop. Jericho proved they can find him. What’s he supposed to do? Just wait for them to send the next cleaner? Or the next dozen?"

"He’s supposed to turn himself in!" Juna snapped. "Negotiate! Plead his case! Not go on some insane one-man crusade!"

"And you think they’d listen?" Mara countered, raising an eyebrow. "The Association? After they branded him a murderer and put a price on his head? They’d dissect him in a lab, not give him a fair hearing. We both know that."

Juna crossed her arms, her jaw tight. She didn’t have an answer for that one, and they both knew it. The Association’s ’justice’ was notoriously selective.