The police station hummed with activity. Sirens flared in the distance. Officers hurried past in tense clusters. Spark’s broadcast—and the protests it sparked—had left law enforcement scrambling just to hold the seams together. In a quieter corner, next to an occupied interrogation room, Buck sat beside Hazelnut on a worn bench. Krouri stood across from them in the lobby with her arms folded against her breast. Her father burst through the front doors. In an instant she was wrapped in his embrace. Akri joined a moment later and the three of them collapsed into a tangle of apologies and promises, openly weeping as a family reunited.

  The Crier Dispatch lay in ruins. The evidence drive had been smashed by Pazienza—but forensic teams were already working to recover as much as possible. Tobias hadn’t survived, yet his final act had bought Krouri and her mother enough time to live. Buck took a quiet breath and decided that had to count for something.

  The door beside them opened with a soft click.

  Feng stepped out first, offering them both a silent nod before slipping past. Lieutenant Zywrath held the door open, saying nothing—just waiting. Buck turned to Hazelnut. She still hadn’t spoken. Her eyes were red and puffy, her gaze unfocused, one hand resting protectively over the singed heart-shaped mark in her fur.

  "You ready for this?" he asked gently.

  Hazelnut drew a shaky breath. "…No." She stood anyway. "So let’s do it."

  They stepped inside.

  Taurence Kleft sat alone cuffed to the metal table, silent and smaller than Buck expected. He didn’t look like a criminal mastermind. He looked…tired. Hazelnut sat across from him. For a long moment, she just watched him.

  "...Why?"

  The badger looked down at his hands. "Because I wanted a world where children like you wouldn’t need to steal to survive. A world that couldn’t be controlled by Pazienza…or V."

  Hazelnut’s voice faltered. "Then why did he know who I was? Why did V know my name?"

  His defeated sigh was practically an answer in and of itself. "He helped us build an army. Showed us how to refine Champion and access to the ether well. He gave us the tools. And when we refused to pay his price…he took whatever leverage he could find—including you."

  "So, you abandoned me? Just left me alone in the dead of night?"

  His eyes closed.

  "I thought keeping you out of this would keep you safe. You’d built a quiet life. A good one. I didn’t want to ruin it."

  Hazelnut’s jaw trembled. "You left me open to pain. To loneliness. I suffered and anguished for years, wondering what happened to you. Wondering if you were dead. Wondering if you even cared."

  "I always cared," Taurence said, finally meeting her eyes. "I will regret what it cost for the rest of my life. But I don’t regret trying to protect you."

  A tear slid down Hazelnut’s cheek, but she didn’t look away. "I don’t know if I can forgive you."

  "I don’t deserve it," Taurence said. "But I’m grateful you survived." He reached out to touch Hazelnut's hand. She pulled away and stood up, keeping her shoulders stiff.

  "He's all yours, Buck." She turned and left the room with her head held high.

  Buck slipped into the now-empty chair as Zywrath stepped up behind him. "Let’s start from the top," Buck said. "Spare no detail."

  Taurence gave him everything. Champion’s origin. The fake drug trials. The ether well. How V manipulated them from the start—demanding results, withholding payments, turning fear into obedience. How Tim, their greatest "success", became the Cremation Killer. How Zadron died by accident…and how they’d covered it up anyway.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Zywrath recorded every word.

  When it was over, Taurence didn’t plead. Didn’t resist. He simply signed the statement and allowed himself to be taken away. Buck stepped out into the hallway and found Hazelnut sitting where he’d left her, eyes finally dry.

  He offered her a hand. "C’mon," he said softly. "Let’s go deliver some good news for once."

  * * *

  Hazelnut watched as Buck shared the news about their son's killer to the Murray's. They were beyond grateful and thanked him over and over. John pushed himself up from his recliner and crushed Buck into a hug so tight it made the rat squeak. Only after a dozen repeated gratitudes and a promise to visit again was Buck finally released—though not without Pearl pressing a still-steaming pie into his hands. She leaned in and inhaled deeply.

  "Mmmm, that's her cinnamon-apple. Grenda has been trying to buy her recipe for years. You're a lucky guy."

  Buck shrugged, still bewildered from the whole ordeal. "I don't know if I'll even get halfway through it. I’d hate to waste it."

  "I'd be more than happy to take half," Hazelnut suggested.

  He hugged the pie protectively and turned away with a huff. Hazelnut burst out laughing. "Suit yourself. You earned it."

  A commotion in the lobby quickened their steps. Half the building was gathered there. All of them yelling at a scrawny weasel in a cheap suit. Two burly boar bodyguards flanked him as he waved a manila envelope like a sword.

  "You can't DO this, Markey!"

  "I can and I will! I got all the paperwork right here!"

  "We don't have anywhere else to go!"

  "Not! My! Problem!"

  "What about the children?"

  "What ABOUT the children?"

  Markey spotted Hazelnut descending the stairs and sneered. "You screwed up a real good thing I had going with Pazienza, tree hopper, but I'll get what's mine. You think this stops anything? You think this benefits you? I know EXACTLY who I have to bribe to get this fast-tracked! I'll turn this place into a parking lot and none of you will even find a decent GUTTER to sleep in!" He raised a sealed manilla envelope and waved it around. "I got all the documents right here!"

  Hazelnut's face flushed red hot with rage. She hadn't fought so damn hard to lose everything now. If that meant adding to her body count, so be it.

  "That’s funny," said a new voice. "So do I."

  A sharply dressed fox stepped through the doorway, briefcase in hand and a subtle confidence in his stride. He flipped the case open and produced his own envelope. "Philip Markey?" he asked pleasantly.

  The weasel blinked. "Uh—yeah?"

  "You’ve been served. These are formal charges from the city prosecutor’s office naming you as an accessory to Pazienza’s criminal organization."

  Markey went pale. His hands trembled as he read. His bodyguards glanced at one another—and bolted out the door without a word. A moment later, two uniformed officers stepped forward, cuffed Markey and led him out followed by righteous jeers from the gathered crowd.

  The fox turned and approached Hazelnut. "Miss Bushytail? Bob Withers. Assistant City Prosecutor. I also have something for you." He retrieved another stack of paperwork and offered it with a small smile. "According to city records—and my father—you had expressed interest in purchasing this building. I took the liberty of preparing everything and filing the appropriate extensions. It's yours if you want it. All that’s required is a signature."

  Hazelnut stared at the papers for only a moment, then stole a pen from Bob’s pocket and signed with a flourish.

  The lobby erupted in cheers and applause. There were more than a few tears. Neighbors hugged one another as if they’d just won a war.

  From the stairwell came a familiar cackle. Carl hobbled into view with his cane and a tape recorder. "BOBBY! Ooh, we got him now, boy! I got it all on tape! That weasel won’t know the difference between rock and stone after the years spent where they're sending him! Hah!"

  Bob’s ears flattened. "Dad. It’s Bob. Please. And could you not—"

  Hazelnut blinked. "Wait…you’re Carl’s son?"

  "Adopted," Bob admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I…actually wanted to ask if you might talk to him? Something’s been bothering him lately. Says it’s about you?"

  Hazelnut’s chest tightened. She had a good idea what it was about. Carl had retreated to the chair beside the doorway—his usual post. He stared straight ahead as Hazelnut approached.

  "Carl?"

  "Bushytail," he said flatly.

  Gathering whatever strength she had left, she put into her voice. "Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just say it. The grumpy-old-man routine is getting a little old."

  He snorted—but the hurt in his voice cracked through. "Yeah. Grumpy old man. That’s all anyone sees. Just waiting for me to keel over."

  "Oh Carl, that's not what I meant at all!"

  He brushed it off. "Eeh, what's the use? You wouldn't understand."

  Hazelnut sank down, kneeling so she could look him in the eye. He tried to not meet her face. "I might not, but why don't you try me anyway. You have my full attention. I'm ready to hear whatever it is you have to say."

  There was a long silence. Carl finally exhaled. "I got a bad diagnosis a couple months ago. Spinal arthritis. All those years spent excavating for the city are catching up with me. The doctors say I’ll be in a wheelchair before long."

  "Carl. I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

  His voice quavered. "So, when that apartment opened up? The one on the top floor with the big window? I thought…maybe that could be my last spot. Nice and high up. Able to watch the world go by even if I can't." He shrugged weakly. "Then everyone handed it to you like it was nothing. And…I…I didn’t wanna be the only one selfish enough to complain."

  Hazelnut couldn’t speak at first. Her heart broke—not out of pity, but understanding. Carl wasn’t some grumpy old coot. He was a sweet, stubborn old man who was just determined to be self-sufficient. Scared to lose the little freedom he still had left. She placed her hand gently atop his. "You know what, Carl? It has been kind of stuffy up there lately. A change of scenery might do me some good."