Page 37 of Dark Rover's Luck

"I've done worse to survive," she said. "Much worse."

The admission hung in the air, raw and honest.

"I wish white-collar crimes were the only ones I needed to confess to." Atzil sighed. "They are just the easier ones. We all have lines we never thought we'd cross. Until we did."

"And then you have to live with it," Fenella said, thinking about those crimes that Atzil didn't want to talk about.

"Yes," Atzil agreed. "But you also get to choose who you become afterward. That's the gift of a long life—the chance to reinvent yourself, to atone, to do better."

Fenella found an unexpected resonance in his words. She had been running for so long—not just from external threats, but from the parts of herself she wasn't proud of, the compromises and sacrifices that had kept her alive but chipped away at her soul.

"Is that what you're doing here?" she asked. "Atoning?"

Atzil smiled faintly. "In my own small way. Feeding people, mixing drinks—it's hardly heroic, but there's a simple goodness in it. In creating moments of pleasure for people I care about." He swept his arm in a wide arc. "That includes everyone in this community. They are all my peeps, as the young humans like to say."

When the conversation shifted to lighter topics like Atzil's favorite mixes and which drinks were the most popular in the village, Fenella felt more at ease than she could remember. It could have been the wine, or the food, or the good company, or all of the above.

"We should get going," Ingrid said at some point, picking up her fashionable handbag. "This was lovely. We should do it again soon."

"Definitely." Fenella nodded, turning to Atzil. "What time do you want to meet tomorrow?"

"Three o'clock is good for me. It's the lull between lunch and dinner at Kalugal's."

"Perfect." She shook his hand. "I'm looking forward to it."

"What did you think of him?" Din asked after Ingrid and Atzil left.

"I liked him a lot. He's a good guy." She lifted the small cup of coffee to her lips and took a sip. "After what was done to me, I wanted to hate anything connected to the Brotherhood, but I can't hate Atzil. He's just too nice."

"Do you trust him, though?"

The question gave her pause. Trust was something Fenella had rationed carefully over the decades, extending it rarely and often regretting it when she did.

"My gut tells me that I can trust him, but I can't help being cautious and reserving judgment."

"That's progress, I guess," Din said.

"Of a sort." Fenella drained the last of her coffee. "I should head back before Shira starts to wonder if I've been kidnapped."

"I'll walk you home," Din offered while swiping his card over the scanner.

"I can find my way there," Fenella said automatically, the instinct for self-reliance too deeply ingrained to ignore. "The village is super safe, right?"

"It's not about safety. I would just like to walk you home, if that's okay with you."

"Of course it is." She flashed him a broad smile.

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn't quite ready for the evening to end either.

When they stepped out of the restaurant, it was nearly completely dark outside, and with no illumination allowed in the village, she had to rely on her excellent night vision.

"It's beautiful here." Fenella threaded her arm through Din's. "Almost too beautiful, if that makes sense."

The night air was pleasant, carrying a clean, earthy scent that reminded her of how it smelled after rain.

"It's like a dream," Din agreed. "One you're afraid to wake from."

She was surprised that he understood. This place belonged to him even though he didn't reside here. He could move into the village anytime he wanted, and there was no reason for him to dream about it when it could be his reality.

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