The seventh cut waited under Ty's name, quiet enough to make every other line look honest.
Ty kept his trapped finger in the receiver mouth and watched the fine line under the groove. The first six pressure lines pulled whenever the case body moved. Bone, case, ring, fire, anchor, and frame all tugged like frightened witnesses trying to speak over one another.
The seventh line kept still, and that stillness felt older than the bridge.
Blue flexed her hand around the broken fuse. Two fingers answered. The other three stayed locked around dead ceramic, pale at the joints where the receiver had taken payment.
"If you swing at the busy lines, the skin learns your answer," Blue said.
JJ shifted her ruined shoulder against the case frame and kept pressure with her hip.
"Then we need the quiet line loud enough to deserve the blade," JJ said.
