By the next evening, everyone knew something was wrong.
Not because anyone said it. The Creepers were disciplined like that. Problems didn't get announced. They leaked. Through posture. Through tone. Through the way conversations stopped when certain people walked by.
Cager had tightened the reins.
Orders came faster. Sharper. Patrol routes shifted without explanation. Weapons were checked twice. Sometimes three times. No room for questions.
Vale noticed it all and said nothing.
That was the trick she was learning. Knowing when silence was survival.
She moved through the lair like a shadow, picking up fragments. The Saints were probing borders again. Not openly. Testing reaction times. Watching who moved where. Who hesitated. Who didn't.
They were studying them.
And someone inside the Creepers was letting too much slip.
Vale heard it first from Rook, a thin-eyed runner who never spoke unless it mattered.
"Someone's talking," he muttered while passing her a crate. "Not names. Not yet. But patterns."
That set her teeth on edge.
By nightfall, Cager called a closed circle meeting. Only those who mattered. Only those who could be trusted. Vale was surprised when her name was included.
She didn't ask why.
The room was small. Concrete walls. A single overhead light. The kind of place where decisions were made without witnesses.
Cager stood at the head of the table, hands flat against the surface. She looked calm. That was the dangerous part.
"We have a leak," she said. "Not confirmed. But close enough that we act like it's real."
Nyra swore under her breath.
Mace leaned back in his chair. "You're jumping."
"No," Cager replied. "I'm adapting."
Eyes shifted. Tension crept.
Vale stayed quiet, listening.
"The Saints aren't pushing," Cager continued. "They're waiting. That means they expect something. Or someone."
Her gaze flicked briefly to Vale, then away.
"We tighten operations," she said. "No solo runs. No off-route trades. No unnecessary movement."
"And what about her?" Mace asked, nodding toward Vale. "You still bringing new blood into unstable territory?"
Vale met his stare evenly. Didn't flinch.
"She stays," Cager said. No hesitation. "And she works closer to me."
That drew reactions. Murmurs. Raised brows.
Mace's mouth thinned. "You're making this personal."
Cager leaned forward. "I'm making it efficient."
The meeting ended without further argument, but the tension followed Vale out like a second shadow.
Later, Cager assigned Vale to weapons inventory. Close quarters. Just the two of them.
Professional. Controlled.
Too controlled.
"You didn't have to pull me in like that," Vale said finally.
Cager didn't look up from the crate she was checking. "I did."
"Why?"
A pause.
"Because if someone's watching," Cager said, "I want them to see you exactly where I put you."
Vale frowned. "That's not comforting."
"It's protection."
Vale let out a breath. "You're treating me like leverage."
Cager's hands stilled. Slowly, she straightened.
"I'm treating you like someone I refuse to lose," she said quietly.
The words settled heavy between them.
Vale didn't smile. Didn't tease. She just nodded once. "Then tell me how I can help."
That earned her a long look. Measuring. Reassessing.
"Tomorrow night," Cager said, "we test the leak."
Vale's pulse jumped. "How?"
"We move false information," Cager replied. "Only to a few. See what reaches the Saints."
"And if it's one of us?"
Cager's expression hardened. "Then we deal with it."
Vale understood what that meant. And understood something else too.
This wasn't just about territory anymore.
It was about trust.
That night, Vale lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The lair hummed around her. Life. Violence. Loyalty held together by threat and need.
She thought about Cager. The way she carried weight no one saw. The way she drew lines she hated crossing.
And she realized, with unsettling clarity, that whatever this was turning into, there would be no clean exit.
Not for her.
Not for Cager.
And not for the Creepers.