Hard Currency

Cole didn't make the call. Instead, he slid his phone back into his pocket and leaned against the folding table opposite her.

"You look like hell," Cole said.

"Running does that," Maya replied. She shifted, wincing, and Cole noticed the yellowing bruises on her forearms. She was wearing a hoodie three sizes too big, likely stolen from a donation bin.

"Why didn't you leave the city?" Cole asked. "The Sprawl is a cage."

"I have no money," Maya said simply. "And I can't make any. Not without... spending myself."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Cole knew the rumors. Everyone knew the rumors of the Gemini Curse. The girl who cried diamonds. It sounded like a fairy tale until you saw the bounty on her head.

"Is it true?" Cole asked.

Maya looked at him. "Do you want a demonstration? It pays well."

"No," Cole snapped. The cynicism in her voice made his stomach turn. "I don't want your money."

"Then you're the first," she said. "Everyone wants something. Tears are just... liquid pain. Most people ignore pain. But mine? Mine has a market value. It makes people greedy. It makes them hurt me just to see if I'll break."

Cole looked at her. He saw the way she held herself, tight and defensive. He realized suddenly that her value wasn't a gift; it was a harvest. She was a crop to be threshed.

Outside, a siren wailed. It was close—a jagged, piercing shriek that cut through the glass walls of the laundromat.

Maya flinched violently. It was a reflex born of trauma. Her breath hitched, and her eyes squeezed shut.

A single tear escaped from the corner of her left eye.

Cole watched, mesmerized and horrified.

The tear rolled down her pale cheek. It caught the fluorescent light, glittering. As it reached her jawline, it didn't drip. It solidified.

It fell.

*Clink.*

The sound was heavy, distinct against the linoleum floor. It wasn't the splash of water. It was the sound of a stone.

Cole stared at it. A diamond. Roughly two carats. Flawless. It lay amidst the dust bunnies and discarded dryer sheets, sparkling with a cold, cruel beauty.

He crouched down and picked it up. It was hard and cold in his palm. He looked at Maya. She was breathing hard, wiping her face frantically, terrified that another might fall.

Cole looked at the gem. He looked at the girl.

If he called the number, he got credits. Digital numbers on a screen.

But this stone... this was physical proof of her suffering. It felt heavy. It felt like blood money.

Headlights swept across the front of the store. Tires screeched on the wet pavement.

Cole stood up, his hand closing into a fist around the diamond.

"They're here," Maya whispered, her voice trembling. "You called them."

Cole looked out the window. Two black SUVs had pulled up to the curb. Men in rain slickers were getting out. They weren't police. They were Syndicate.

Cole looked at Maya. He saw the terror in her eyes. He realized that if he handed her over, they wouldn't just imprison her. They would farm her.

"No," Cole said. "I didn't call them. They tracked you."

He shoved the diamond into his pocket. He didn't look at it again.

"Get up," Cole commanded.

Maya shrank back. "Please. I'm tired."

Cole grabbed her hand. His grip was firm, not punishing. "We're not waiting for them. Come on."

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