Souls Below - Rebellion

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The street was already humming with life by the time Calian and I made our way out. The evening whistle had blown maybe fifteen minutes ago, and like a cracked dam finally giving way, people had flooded into the roads. The bars were spilling bodies and voices out into the alleyways, mismatched tables already full, boots slung over stools, sleeves rolled to elbows, grease and sweat still fresh on their skin.

Steam hissed from vents in the walls, a steady heartbeat of the Makers’ District winding down for the night. Laughter crackled like sparks from a fire, mingling with the clang of distant machinery and the smell—thick with oil smoke, sour liquor, and something vaguely meaty grilling on a skewer from the vendor at the corner. It shouldn’t have felt like freedom. But in that moment, it almost did.

We cut toward the edge of the market district and ducked into a place I knew too well—The Crooked Wrench. It was dim, lights flickering occasionally, heat pulsed from a furnace at the back, voices loud enough to get lost in. Perfect.

Krane was already waiting, tucked into a booth near the rear wall. His hood was up, arms resting on the table, hands clasped tight like he was holding something in. When he looked up and saw Calian beside me, I caught the way his jaw locked. Hard.

No one spoke at first.

I slid in beside Krane. Calian took the seat across from us, his posture far too casual, legs stretched like he owned the place. The silence between them had its own weight—coiling under the table like wire pulled too tight. I sat between them, and it felt like standing at the edge of a live current.

“Well,” I muttered, voice dry. “This is cozy.”

Nothing.

I tapped my fingers against the warped surface of the table. Krane’s arm brushed mine. I didn’t pull away—but I didn’t lean in either. Calian’s eyes flicked to the motion, his jaw twitching before he looked away, pretending to read the nailed-up drink menu like it had answers.

“How’s Jerard?” Krane asked eventually, his voice rough. He didn’t look at me.

“Still gone. Probably giving me space. Things’ve been…tense.” I reached for the glass already set down at the table, sipping lukewarm water that probably came filtered through a coolant pipe. “Means we’ve got a small window to move before he comes back.”

Krane turned then. Met my eyes. “You sure this is a good idea, Mira?”

Before I could answer, Calian leaned forward. “It’s not. But we’re doing it anyway.”

Krane’s mouth twisted. “Right. Because the Upper says so.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Calian shot back, voice level. “Risking my neck. So maybe save the Lower resentment for someone who gives a shit.”

Krane’s gaze sharpened. “Hard to, when you walk around like your neck’s worth more than ours.”

“Enough,” I snapped, the word like a whip. “Both of you.”

The space between us simmered. Their tension. My tension. Like wires crisscrossing just beneath the skin. I leaned in, lowering my voice. “I asked you here because I trust you. Both of you. I don’t have time to play referee.”

A ceasefire settled—fragile and full of teeth. Krane’s foot bounced under the table, Calian tapped out some rhythm against his thigh. My pulse pounded between them, steady and loud. I didn’t know what I expected, seating them together in the same damn room, but I hadn’t expected this much hostility.

I looked at Krane.

The shadows turned his face into something harder, all sharp edges and grit—like the Lower City carved him out of the rusted walls itself. But when his eyes met mine, something cracked. A flicker of something raw slipped through, and it hit me like a punch to the ribs.

Then I turned to Calian.

He was already watching. Still and intent. His gaze didn’t ask questions, it just waited, heavy with things I didn’t want to name. Two people. Two fires. I didn’t know which would burn me faster.

‘How the hell had I gotten myself wedged in this deep?’

“I need a plan,” I started, grounding myself. “We go into the restricted sector. We find out what the hell’s going on. And we get out. Alive, preferably.”

Krane snorted. “Big if. That sound we heard? Whatever it was—it wasn’t human.”

“Exactly,” Calian added. “Which means we don’t underestimate it. We heard it coming, and we barely escaped.”

“We didn’t even see it,” Krane muttered. “And we still ran like hell.”

“I got us out,” Calian said sharply.

Krane’s glare could’ve cut steel. “Barely.”

“Krane,” I warned. His jaw clicked shut, but the energy radiating off him was tightly wound. The kind he only carried when he was afraid and refusing to admit it.

“We could use tech,” I offered. “Block heat signatures. Sound. Motion. The Tech sector might have black-market dampeners.”

Krane huffed. “You got a stash of coin and meal stubs layin’ around, dreamer? We can’t afford gear like that.”

Calian shrugged. “Do we even need it? We know those things are in there—we just stay quiet.”

Krane scoffed. “Genius plan, Upper. Got the whole sector mapped too? How do you suggest we stay quiet and not get eaten?”

“At least I’m making suggestions,” Calian muttered, lifting his drink and immediately choking on it. He gagged, coughing hard into his sleeve. Krane and I both startled—then burst out laughing.

“Is that what you call beer?” Calian wheezed. “Tastes like rust and regret.”

“Best there is in the Makers District,” Krane replied with mock pride, raising his mug. “Sorry it doesn’t have gold flakes in it to match your palate.”

“If I don’t die from food poisoning, this will finish me off.” he grumbled. I downed a mouthful and slammed the cup back down.

“You get used to the taste.” I grinned. “We need supplies,” I continued, serious again. “We don’t know how deep the sector goes. We could be in there for days if something goes wrong.”

Krane nodded. “Strem’s out of town. I can raid the pantry and stash a few extra rations.”

“Tomorrow then,” I confirmed. “Restricted sector street. Three blocks up. Less chance of being spotted near the door.” We stood, tension curling again beneath the quiet. Krane bumped my shoulder lightly. His presence steadied me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. I didn’t see the look Calian gave him.

“You gonna be okay getting home?” Krane asked, his hand grazing my arm. Warm and familiar. I looked up at him, heart thudding, but managed a small nod.

We were halfway to the entrance when someone called Krane’s name. My blood ran cold. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

His friends. Krane greeted them easily, like it was nothing. But I stepped back, hand brushing Calian’s. I met his eyes, only to find he was already watching me, reading too much in a glance.

I wanted to say goodbye. Wanted to tell Krane I’d see him tomorrow, but Ryan’s classic scowl cut off any thought of it. I turned, heels scraping the floor, and walked out with Calian on my heels. We barely made it to the street before Krane’s voice followed us.

“Mira—wait. Why’d you run off like that?” I paused, glanced past him. Ryan and Alex loitered behind the door, watching us.

“Didn’t want to interrupt,” I muttered, voice tight. Krane tilted his head, sensing it.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” I turned to go, but Krane’s hand caught my arm.

“Wait. Mira. Can’t we just play a round? Something fun before—” Calian’s scoff cut him off.

Krane’s glare snapped toward him. “Problem, Upper?”

Calian raised his hands. “Just wondering how such a blockhead missed an obvious cue.”

“What the f**k does that mean?”

“It means,” Calian answered coolly, “you’re an i***t for not noticing the obvious signs your friends hate her.” Krane flinched like he’d been struck. His eyes found mine.

“Mira?”

I sighed, cheeks flushing slightly at being confronted now of all times. “…Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess?”

I gave him a hard look. “Your friends don’t like me. Out of all of them, I think one tolerates me.”

Krane looked over his shoulder. Ryan glared back. “Since when? You and Alex dated—”

“Yeah. And he ended it. Fast.” I retorted, quickly looking away.

“Why?”

‘Makers, not now.’ “Because I told Jerard something. And after that… let’s just say I wasn’t welcome. I came along most times cause you asked me too.” Krane went still. Even Calian quieted beside me. “Just… drop it, ok?”

“What did you tell Jerard?”

“Krane, don’t. I’m nineteen, not sixteen. I can handle things myself.”

He stepped closer. “Did he touch you?”

My cheeks flushed with heat. “I said drop it.”

‘He didn’t. He tried, but didn’t.’ I wanted to say. “Go hang out with your friends. We’ll see you tomorrow.” I responded instead. Krane looked at Calian again, jaw tight, eyes dark and unreadable. I turned, already walking away.

I almost missed the nod Krane gave him. Like something passed between them. Krane practically stormed back over to his friends.

Calian brushed my arm. “Let’s get back before Jerard does.” I glanced once more toward the bar. Krane stood there, still and tense in front of his friends. For a second, I worried about the weight I might’ve just put on his shoulders. I turned and walked away, the street swallowed us in steam and shadows.