The moment they stepped into the mall, it was like they were entering a whole other world.

Apparently, unused malls with no power and no air conditioning made their own weather. It was definitely a ’who knew’ moment for Sera, but she didn’t mind it.

The air was cool where the sun didn’t reach and hot where it pooled on the floor from broken windows.

Old air hung in the rafters like the ghosts of climate control, causing the beams over head to moan in protest.

Fake plants had gathered a layer of dust so thick, it was impossible to tell that the plant had once been green. The central court, the place where the main entrance was located, had been a fountain once; now it was a dry bowl with just enough suspicious slime that Lachlan was giving it the side eye.

Zubair went first, checking the corners and the broken glass. Sera could practically see the steam coming out of his ears as he calculated the sight lines and the best possible angles.

Elias touched the wall with his fingertips and managed to scrap off such a thick layer of dust that, even after wiping his fingers on his cargo pants, he couldn’t get his hands clean.

"Congratulations," Lachlan muttered, a slight smirk to his face. "You’ve adopted a kilogram of dust. That’s why your mom told you to look with your eyes and not your hands. You never know what you might pick up"

For a second time, Elias wiped his hand on his pants, and still the dust didn’t move. "Add laundry detergent to the list," he sighed after a moment.

"Add a new pair of pants," Sera countered, her eyes bright. "Those ones need to be thrown out."

She wasn’t tense.

She was interested.

The dead storefronts. The half-lit ceiling panels. The dead fountain. She took it all in like she’d walked onto a stage and wanted to see how everything worked before the show started.

Luci pressed his flank to her knee and her fingers found his ear and scratched once. He relaxed just a bit but didn’t wander around.

The eight men and women from outside behind them, talking like this was nothing more than just another day.

The aluminum bat in one of the men’s hands kissed a kiosk gate twice.

The sawed-off pipe bounced on a palm.

The quiet woman hugged a binder like it was a shield while the glossy one led them with that bright smile she’d glued to her face outside.

"Okay everyone," she called out. "We need to go over some ground rules!" Her voice was clearly made for attention, capturing everyone’s in less than a second. "We start at the north end and move south. Everyone gets two stores. No stripping out all the supplies. No going back for something you missed. You only have one shot at this. The food court is common grounds and can’t be touched."

"Common as in yours," Lachlan returned, his voice lazy. "We hear you."

She cut him a look that tried to pin him to the carpet, but Lachlan didn’t care enough about her to worry about it.

A few feet in, Sera stopped.

A blacked-out storefront on her right held leather—jackets, vests, pants. There was even brass hardware in neat rows, although nothing looked nearly as good as what Mae had given her.

The roll-down gate sat twisted and half-lowered. Her hand went under the slat to test the lock.

"Hold up," the bat man barked, taking a half-step forward.

Zubair shifted three inches. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to draw everyone’s attention. The man stalled like his boots had found a puddle of glue.

The glossy one lifted her chin. "We rotate by pair. It keeps things clean. If you take something, you note it so the General’s quartermasters can log it. If you need something special, ask. We support those who support us."

"Cute speech," Lachlan said. "Do we clap or tithe?"

Zubair didn’t look back. "We’re resupplying. We’ll be quick."

"We’ll walk with you," she replied, turning the smile on him now, full power. "Make sure nothing gets confused."

"What gets confused?" Sera asked, tone light, eyes still on the lock.

"Territory. Ownership." The woman’s lashes dropped and rose. "Men."

Alexei’s mouth didn’t move but the temperature around him did. "Predictable," he murmured.

The bat man sized Sera up like she was the first thing they were going to take after her men had picked what they wanted.

The ratty-cap watcher watched her like a man who’d been thirsty for a long time and had suddenly been given an ice cold glass of water.

The pipe man measured Zubair, then Elias, then the distance between Sera and both of them. The shy one stared at Sera like she wanted to apologize on behalf of everyone.

Sera’s head tipped, curious. "You say that it is the General’s, but it seems to me like you run this place as if it is your own."

"We manage it for the General," the woman answered, her tone sweet, but her eyes hard. "We keep order. That’s what keeps people alive and satisfied. Partnerships. Rules. We’d be happy to make space for your men."

Lachlan’s grin sharpened. "We already have space. It’s right behind her."

"Must be exhausting," the woman went on, like she hadn’t heard him. "Keeping all of them happy. Doing all that... managing." Her gaze skimmed the brass buttons on Sera’s corset, the long half-skirt, the leather under it. "The costumes probably help. Does each man put in a request?"

Sera finally looked at her. Calm, engaged, not rising to the bait because it didn’t feel like bait, just data. "You think I dress for men," she said. "That explains a lot."

The woman’s smile tightened. "I think you dress to be seen."

"I am seen," Sera replied with a simple shrug. "That’s not the same thing."

The man with the bat nudged forward again and this time, Elias’s hand lifted without touching anyone. "Don’t," he told him, steady. "You won’t like what will happen next."

The man with the pipe shifted, considering a solution to a problem he didn’t think would be so complicated.

Alexei turned his head a fraction, and the man with the pipe reconsidered most of his life choices.

The glossy one angled closer to Zubair, like the shortened distance could change his mind abut everything.