“I wasn’t informed of that,” he says. “The client…”
“Don’t,” I cut in sharply. “Don’t pass this off.”
“I’m not passing anything off,” he replies, tone shifting slightly. Less smooth now. More careful. “The information I gave you is what I was given.”
“That makes it worse. You know my rules.”
He sighs, “I do. But change is part of the job, Obsidian. Variables change.”
“Not like that.”
He doesn’t argue that. Because he knows I’m right. Because this isn’t how I work. “I think it’s time I take a break,” I say gruffly, squeezing the back of my neck.
Silence stretches between us again, heavier this time.
Then Emerald says, quieter, “You’ve taken dozens of contracts without an issue.”
“Yeah.”
“And now one complication has you ready to burn the whole thing down?”
“It’s not one complication.” I push off the wall and start pacing, restless energy building under my skin. “It’s me. I almost didn’t see him, Emerald. That’s the part I can’t walk past.”
“That’s not on you.”
“It is.” My voice stays calm, even, but there’s no give in it. “I don’t take jobs that break my rules. You know that.”
“I do. But contracts aren’t exactly…flexible. Which means you can’t just abandon this.”
“Then get someone else to do it.”
He knows that tone. He’s heard it before. It means the conversation is already over on my end.
“Obsidian…”
“I’m done.” I was hesitating before. I’m resolute now. “With all of it.”
“This is your job.”
“Not anymore.”
He lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Because of one kid?”
“Because I almost didn’t see him.”
That shuts Emerald up. For a second, anyway.
Then, softer, “You’ve been at this a long time. You’re good at it. And you’re just…what? Walking away?”
“I am.”
There’s something like frustration in his voice now. “To do what?”
I glance around the motel room, at the bare walls, the worn carpet, the life that fits into a single bag.