Jojo laughed.
“Good enough for me.”
Nora looked up.
“You’re still supposed to check.”
Miller stood.
“She’s right.”
Jojo groaned.
“Of course she is.”
Walsh checked the rear monitor.
Nothing unusual.
Miller sat back down.
The conversation resumed.
Music came up.
Tools moved.
The garage returned to noise.
Nora bent over her notebook.
Above the rear door, the brass plaque caught the fluorescent light.
LISTEN WHEN THE QUIET ONES SPEAK.
Nobody in the room needed the reminder anymore.
They kept it anyway.
Because some lessons deserved to remain visible long after the danger that taught them was gone.
And every now and then, when the garage was loud and everyone was busy and something small changed in the background, somebody stopped.
Somebody listened.
Somebody checked.
That was Nora’s real legacy inside the Steel Vultures.
She did not become part of the club.
She never needed to.
She had changed it anyway.