Free Web NovelChapter 122: Chapter 122 - What’s Dangerous?
Iyisha’s POV
Cyborg sat down across from her like nothing had happened.
She stopped chewing and looked at Malcolm. He pulled a chair beside her and nodded.
She groaned quietly. She was still not over the drugs from last night, but if Malcolm was fine with it, then fine.
She went back to her food. "So, you’re eating with us now."
Cyborg picked up his fork, grinning. "Come on. We had fun last night. Besides, you’re still eating."
He lifted his hands as if the food already on the table wasn’t enough, and a server immediately moved in to place another hot plate in front of him. Iyisha rolled her eyes at how everyone jumped the moment he moved.
"Just so you know," she said, "I’m still pissed about last night."
Cyborg’s grin widened. "But you had fun, right?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, suddenly too aware of Malcolm beside her, of how still he was, of the way his knee hadn’t moved even once.
"I..." She shook her head and looked back down at her plate, eating like it would end the conversation. "It was fine."
Cyborg laughed, easy and unbothered, the sound carrying just enough to turn a few heads before fading into the background noise. "That’s a yes," he said. "A very polite yes."
She shot him a look over her fork. "You’re irritating."
"I’m honest," he said. "Big difference."
Malcolm said nothing.
He didn’t look at her. He didn’t react.
He simply took another bite, jaw working slowly, as if the conversation didn’t exist at all, though she could feel the awareness rolling off him, contained and sharp.
Cyborg leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. "Anyway," he said, casual as ever, "if you don’t want the club tonight, there’s always the casino."
Iyisha froze mid chew.
She swallowed. "Casino? You’re kidding."
Cyborg grinned and spread his hands. "Of course we have one. We’re the pleasure district. People don’t just want safety. They want distraction. It’s the end of the world. We sell a one way ticket to Valhalla."
She rolled her eyes, but she understood what he meant. Even before everything collapsed, people had been easy to pull in. Now, with nothing outside promising tomorrow, it was worse.
"You’re going to be here a few days," Cyborg added, watching her. "Better to know the place. Meet people. Have fun."
A few days.
The words sat wrong.
Malcolm shifted then, pushing his chair back just enough to cut it off. "That’s enough," he said quietly.
It was the first thing he’d said since sitting down. His voice was calm, controlled.
Cyborg lifted his hands with a grin. "Right. After dinner."
Iyisha finished her food quickly after that. The taste was still there, but her appetite wasn’t. The conversation kept looping in her head, each part landing heavier than the last.
They finished eating, the sounds around them settling back into the steady hum of the hall.
Cyborg stood first and didn’t linger. "Alright. Go back to your room and change."
She looked up. "Change?"
"I’ll send clothes," he said, already stepping away. "You’ll want to look like you belong."
She looked to Malcolm, waiting for confirmation, but he looked away. It felt like he was letting her decide, and that made her uneasy. Lately, her decisions felt like they kept getting worse.
"Casino later," Cyborg called over his shoulder. "If you feel like it."
Then he was gone, people moving aside for him without thinking.
Iyisha stood there a moment too long before turning to Malcolm.
He was already on his feet, adjusting his watch, eyes moving over exits, guards, workers. What had looked casual before now felt practiced.
They walked back to their room without speaking.
The corridors felt tighter, cleaner, every door too smooth, every camera too easy to miss. Her thoughts raced ahead of her steps, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had already started moving without her being part of the decision.
Inside the room, the door closed behind them.
Iyisha stayed where she was for a moment, listening to the muted noise of the Route through the walls, then turned to Malcolm. "What did Cyborg mean," she asked, "staying longer."
She stepped closer. "I thought we were leaving tomorrow."
Malcolm didn’t answer right away.
He rested his hands on the table without sitting, shoulders squared, eyes going distant for just a second before he pulled himself back. The pause stretched longer than she expected.
Her thoughts rushed in to fill it.
"Military," he said.
"The military," she repeated slowly. "If we run into them... that shouldn’t be a problem, right?"
He stayed quiet.
She tilted her head. "Unless you don’t want to be seen by them."
The words sat between them.
She watched his face, looking for something she realized she had never really noticed before. No reaction. No tells. Not even a scar she could point to and ask about.
"Did you desert?" she asked lightly, like a joke, like something said to break the tension.
The air shifted.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.
That was it.
The joke died where it landed.
And suddenly it hit her.
She didn’t know.
She didn’t know where he was from, what he had done, who he had been before everything collapsed. She didn’t know what name might still exist somewhere, what uniform he might have worn, what orders still followed him when he went quiet.
She swallowed. "I don’t really know anything about you," she said, not accusing, just realizing it out loud.
He looked at her for a moment, then finally sat down.
"You know enough," he said.
Does she?
The thought stayed with her, because she realized at the same time that he didn’t know much about her either. Not her childhood. Not her fears. Not the constant noise in her head. She wondered if he even remembered Cena.
They stood there facing each other, close enough to touch, bound by shared danger and shared nights, but separated by lives they had never stepped into.
Strangers.
And somehow, not.
Malcolm spoke again, voice low and steady. "Military checkpoints," he said. "It’s safer inside the Route."
Her worry shifted as Lauren came to mind, in the room next to theirs.
"Lauren," she said quietly. "She’s close. We can’t stay too long."
"I know," he said immediately.
There was no hesitation this time.
"We don’t have a choice."
Why.
The question almost left her mouth.
She could feel it there, pushing forward, all the things she wanted to ask lining up behind it, but she stopped herself. Malcolm had always been this way. Quiet. Closed. Careful. And somehow, she had trusted him anyway.
Iyisha exhaled and let it go.
She sat down and pulled off her boots, one after the other, the motion familiar and grounding. To be honest, what they had right now was enough. They worked. They survived. They trusted each other when it counted.
Digging deeper wouldn’t help her. It would only make her more curious, and she knew where that led.
She glanced at him and sighed. "It’s fine."
Malcolm didn’t respond.
And that was exactly what she needed.
