Chapter 244: Closed for Your Own Good

DOVE’S POV

The warehouse alarm ended before dawn. The uncertainty did not.

By morning, legitimate guards had stopped the raid at one loading entrance, two workers were being treated, and everyone in the market had heard a different version of who sent the men. Dove listened to people who had actually been there before deciding what to do with the rest.

She still wanted breakfast. She still wanted her men fed. She also wanted to know which exits remained open before a crowd made the answer harder to see.

They ate eggs, bread, and the last of the cooked vegetables while Edrik checked the radio. Thorne spoke to the neighbor who had watched the street overnight. Dove reviewed their bags, then walked to the front door and looked at the market herself.

The line outside the water seller had doubled. Most people looked hot, tired, and worried. A few men kept moving along the edges without carrying anything to trade.

She watched one pause at three different shops.

"Sprout, I’m not opening into that."

"No new stock has been issued today."

"Good. Let’s keep the achievement very boring."

The cabinet shelves were empty. She moved her mug off the counter and tucked the chair against the ordinary shelving, then checked the awning. A neighbor had stopped beneath it to get out of the sun. She needed him clear before she packed.

Dove called Thorne and Edrik over, then pointed to what she had seen rather than asking them to share a vague bad feeling.

"The man by the water line. He’s checked every back curtain on this side. I want the shop closed before he gets here."

Edrik watched him for a moment. "Agreed."

Thorne helped move a waiting neighbor out of the storefront’s space. Dove checked that nobody stood beneath the awning or beside the cabinet, then packed the system shop. The glass, shelves, and counter vanished together, leaving their ordinary selling room looking abruptly bare.

It still held plenty worth stealing.

Most of their owned supplies were already stored. She moved the ready bag through the curtain while the men brought in the food and tools they had used that morning. The generator and cooler stayed out until they finished using them. She would store those too before leaving, after the engine cooled and the food was packed.

A customer arrived with goods for trade and stared at the empty space.

"Closed today," Dove told him.

"I only wanted one thing."

"So did I. A quiet morning. We’re both disappointed."

He looked toward the growing water line and left without arguing. She appreciated him for that.

The neighboring seller was still deciding whether to open. Dove showed him the man moving along the shops and described the false inspection visit. He closed his own counter, sent his younger helper to the clinic road, and began moving his best goods out of sight.

That was one person who would not be trapped behind a busy counter when trouble reached the door. Dove allowed herself to feel good about it.

At the clinic annex, Iris was helping arrange shaded space for families who wanted somewhere staffed to wait. She had not abandoned her own kitchen responsibilities; her husbands were dividing the work while she checked on people nearby. Dove carried a separate bag of spare clothing and wash supplies over and found Thorne’s father arguing about whether the older residents needed more chairs.

"He found a new project," she told Thorne.

Her husband smiled despite everything. "I noticed."

The annex courtyard had a clear path from the street to the treatment rooms. A rear gate opened toward the clinic service road. Dove asked which doors the staff would keep open and where their bags would not block patients. Ordinary questions, useful answers. She could picture the route now without hoping someone else would remember it for her.

When they returned home, the water line had thinned, but the restless men had not disappeared. Edrik kept Dove close as they crossed to their storefront. She watched the street over his arm until they were inside.

"I hate this part," she admitted once the curtain was closed.

"Which part?" Thorne asked.

"Being sensible before anything happens. It makes me feel ridiculous until I’m suddenly very glad I did it."

Edrik set down the bag he was carrying. "You saw them before they got to the door. That’s not ridiculous."

She nodded, feeling her decision settle. Nobody had to get hurt before she was allowed to close it.

The neighbor called through the front door to ask whether he could leave one heavy box with the clinic staff. Dove told him to ask them directly rather than stack it in the patient path. He nodded and went. A few minutes later, she saw him and his helper carry it the proper way around. It was such a small success that she nearly missed it. People could still listen, make a better choice, and get something safely where it belonged. She needed to remember that as much as she needed to watch the men who would not.

They made lunch from the supplies she had kept. Warm food, enough for all three, eaten with the bags ready beside them. Dove wanted to remember that preparation could look like this too, not only fear and shouting. Her choices had bought them time to eat.

Ash passed the far end of the street with a security group and stopped when he saw the closed frontage. Dove could almost see him deciding whether to come nearer. Edrik appeared beside the door, and the dragon kept his distance.

Then the radio on their table crackled.

A voice announced that the district chief had resigned and emergency control had passed to a new command. Before the message finished, another voice broke across it, breathless and furious.

"He hasn’t resigned. They’ve got him in the office. They’ve got a gun on him."

The transmission cut off.

Edrik reached for the dial, but the same voice came back first.

"Don’t open your doors just because they have a badge."

Their neighbor was knocking along the row, calling through each door that the warning was real. Dove reached for her radio. The streets she knew were closing one by one, and she needed an answer from someone who had actually been outside.

She hated that she knew exactly whom to ask.