Page 24 of Kill Feed

By the time we’re done, my forearms are tight, and my hands ache in that dull, earned way. We peel away from the climbing zone and head toward the seating area that overlooks the walls.

We drop onto the stools after retrieving water bottles from the cafe fridge.

The water disappears fast. I drain half of mine in one go, throat working, pulse slowing. Lucas does the same, then lets his head fall back dramatically.

“I’m officially too old for this shit,” he announces. “Everything hurts. My shoulders are filing a formal complaint.”

I frown at him. “You’re twenty-three.”

He tilts his head, squinting at me. “And?”

“That sentence doesn’t work if your joints still qualify for a student discount,” I scoff. Amani snorts, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “He’s right. You don’t get to complain until at least thirty.”

Lucas grunts but smiles anyway. He stretches his arms overhead, fingers lacing as he twists side to side, rolling the tension out of his neck with a soft groan. “Fine. I’m youthful. Thriving. In my prime.”

He drops his arms and freezes.

His gaze locks onto something across the gym cafe, just past the far pillar near the equipment lockers.

I follow it without thinking, to a poster that’s been taped crookedly to the concrete column. It has a matte black background with sharp white lettering and a splash of electric purple and orange cutting through the center.

PHANTOM PRODUCTIONS.

Now Hiring: Photographer

That’s all I can make out from the distance. Lucas straightens slowly. “Oh. Oh, no way.”

“What?” Amani asks, already turning on her stool.

“That,” he says, pointing. “That right there is your lucky break, Adrian.”

I don’t respond.

Amani hops down and crosses the short distance to the pillar, peeling the edge of the poster loose so she can read it properly. She scans it once, then again, slower as she reaches our table.

“It’s an events company,” she chimes. “Looks like a seasonal contract with potential for extension.” Her brow furrows. “Mostly night work. Large-scale productions...”

She pauses.

“…Halloween.”

“I’m not applying,” I say immediately, fingertips tracing the cap of the bottle. Lucas turns to me, incredulous. “You didn’t even let her finish.”

“She doesn’t need to.”

Amani glances back at me, careful. “Adrian, the pay—”

“I don’t care.”

Lucas slides off his stool, already halfway into argument mode. “Okay, but hear me out. You’ve been saying you need something stable. This is stable-adjacent.”

Amani reads further, quieter now. “They’re looking for someone with experience in low-light environments and high-pressure events. Someone who can work around crowds and chaos…that’s so you!”

“It’s October,” I say flatly.

“So?” Lucas exclaims.

“So no.”