Chapter Four: The Rules of Survival

Tara could still feel their eyes on her. Watching. Waiting. Even though the conversation had ended, the tension in the air had not. She had been accepted, but not welcomed.

As Ballad turned, leading her away, Tara felt the weight of their stares pressing into her back like a brand. The message was clear. She wasn't one of them. Not yet. Not ever, if Collin had his way.

Tara kept her mouth shut and followed Ballad down the dim corridor, her boots scraping against the uneven stone. The space was tight, damp, and smelled faintly of rust. There was no comfort here—no warmth. Only walls that whispered secrets.

Finally, Ballad stopped in front of a door and shoved it open. The room inside was small and cold, barely furnished beyond a mattress on the floor, a pile of blankets, and a half-broken oil lamp sitting on a crate. The air smelled of dust and old fire, like the embers of something long burned out.

Ballad leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "This is yours."

Tara frowned. "That's it?"

Ballad smirked. "What, expecting a welcome feast?"

Tara ignored the jab. "I mean... I don't have to fight someone for it?"

Ballad let out a sharp laugh. "You? Against the crew? Oh, sweetheart, you'd be dead in minutes."

Tara bristled. "You don't know that."

Ballad's grin widened. "Oh, I do. And so do they." She tilted her head toward the door. "Look, you've got a place to sleep, and for now, that's more than most. But there are rules."

Tara leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "Let me guess. Don't get in the way, don't ask too many questions, don't trust anyone."

Ballad snorted. "Close. But ours are better."

She raised three fingers.

"Rule one—don't wander alone. The city isn't safe, especially for someone like you."

Tara narrowed her eyes. "Someone like me?"

Ballad's expression darkened. "You're fresh meat, sweetheart. Everyone's heard about you. Some are scared of you. Others want to test you."

Tara clenched her fists. "I don't care what they think."

Ballad sighed. "Yeah, well, you should. You step outside without backup, and you won't last the night."

Tara swallowed hard but nodded.

Ballad lifted her second finger. "Rule two—don't pick fights with the crew. They don't trust you. You give them a reason not to, and they'll make your life hell."

Tara's jaw tightened. "I don't plan on making enemies."

Ballad smirked. "Sweetheart, you already have."

Tara exhaled slowly. Right.

"Last rule." Ballad lifted her third finger. "When Skye tells you to do something, do it."

Tara stiffened. She should've known. It always came back to him.

She forced her voice steady. "And why is that?"

Ballad's smirk faded slightly.

"Because he's the only reason you're still breathing."

Tara hated that. Hated that her fate had been decided for her before she even knew what was happening. But she bit her tongue.

Ballad's expression softened. "Look, I know this isn't where you thought you'd end up. But if you want to survive here, you need to start playing by the rules."

Tara exhaled sharply. "Fine."

Ballad grinned, pushing off the doorframe. "That's the spirit." She nodded toward the hallway. "Now, come on. You need to meet the last two."

Tara frowned. "Didn't I already?"

"You met Lottie and Collin." Ballad jerked her thumb toward the main room. "But Zeke and Talulah? That's different."

Tara's frown deepened. "Why?"

Ballad hesitated.

"Because," she said finally, "they see things the rest of us don't."

Tara didn't like the sound of that. But she followed anyway.