Page 77 of Song Bird Hearts

“They were people.”

“They were parts in a machine,” he corrects. “You chose to grind the machine to a halt.”

“No,” I say, taking a step closer, my voice fierce despite the weariness filling my body. “I chose to show the world the machineexisted.”

A silence falls between us, thick and humming.

“You didn’t come here just to compliment me,” I say, watching him for any signs of action. There’s none.

He inclines his head. “No. I came to extend an offer.”

The words are like a slap in the face. I blink, uncertain if I’d heard right. “An offer?”

“You’ve proven your reach, your influence, and your following. You’re not the first we’ve considered recruiting, just the most volatile.”

My lips curl. “You think after everything you’ve done, I’ll work with you?”

“We think,” he replies, “that your message resonated far louder than we expected. You’ve destabilized a delicate balance. And frankly, a contained mouth is more useful than a loud one.”

“So now I’m a mouthpiece?”

His lips quirk up. “You’re a brand, an icon. You move the masses. With the Foundation at your back, you’d never have to fight this hard again.” His eyes fall to where Lennox stands with a pistol in his hand, his men around him, his pretty hair only a little out of place. “You’d never have to lower yourself to work with criminals like that.” His gaze focuses back on me. “Imagine all the power you harness focused and streamlined. You’d have the reach to remake the world.”

I shake my head slowly. “This was never about fame.”

His brow ticks upward, mildly intrigued. “No? It’s always about fame and riches.”

“No. It’s about freedom.” My voice cracks on the word, fierce and raw. “Mine. The people I love. The fans you tried to scare into silence. The ones who bleed in back alleys so someone else can keep their illusion of control. Every smalltown singer, actor, producer who had great talent that you squished in the name of power. It’s about their freedom. It isn’t about fame.”

He studies me for a long moment. “Hate is an asset, Ms. Decatur. It motivates you and you’re certainly. . .motivated. I thought you might be interested in this deal.”

“Then you underestimated me again,” I goad, tipping up my chin.

Another small silence and then he laughs softly. “Everyone has a price,” he finally declares. “You’re not immune to the game. You’ve just been playing it from the wrong board.”

“I’m not for sale.”

His nostrils flare and I can tell I’m starting to get to him. “Everyone is.”

“Then you don’t know much about the Green River Basin,” I point out. “This ain’t Hollywood. There are things more important than money and power.”

The man’s smile fades. He finally glances behind me, taking in the angry faces, the people who would happily shoot him if I command it. We may be battered, but we’re still standing. He can’t take that away from us.

“This wouldn’t be a surrender,” he tries again. “It’s adaptation. We can work in the light if that’s where you force us. The Foundation was never about secrecy. It’s about control. Control remains viable.”

“Not here,” I growl.

There’s another pause before a familiar voice cuts through the thick air. “She gave you her answer.”

Wolf. He steps forward to stand beside me, his bruises dark, his breath uneven in a way that tells me his ribs are bothering him. Despite that, his jaw is set with steel. “I’d be really careful about how you push.”

The Foundation man’s gaze flicks to him. “I should’ve known you’ve be involved. You took a liking to Ms. Decatur from the beginning.”

Wolf grins. “You should’ve known I’d choose her.”

Gray suit stares at Wolf. “This is the last bridge you’d be burning. She comes in, we’ll forgive. Otherwise, you’re no use to us.”

Wolf straightens and glances at me. “Allow me to strike the match then.”

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