the smuggler’s bible


The piece Huron digs out for her looks like scrap. He flicks a few flakes of rust off the corner before shrugging and handing it over. Juliet slides it into her duffle and gives him the wad of cash.

“Do you think—”

“I refuse to make any predictions. But I will wish you luck.”

“Thanks, Huron.”

Later, at the villa, she creeps through the hall and peers into Rumble’s room. She can see his big shoulders in the moonlight, the curve of his head against the pillow. Juliet listens for his breathing, but can’t hear it over the wind.