By the time I reach home, the city’s awake. Hovercabs scream down the street, exhaust stinging my throat. I keep walking, boots clicking too fast, heart hammering.
Takhiss is standing outside the garage, shirt half unbuttoned, grease smeared on one shoulder. He looks at me like he felt me coming from a block away.
“You’re late,” he says.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I lie. “Went for a walk.”
He studies me, eyes narrowing just enough to make my stomach twist. “Where?”
“Library.”
“Library?” His tone softens. “You don’t read at this hour.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I repeat.
He doesn’t press.
Just steps closer... His eyes search mine, sharp and knowing.
He smells the lie. He smells the fear.
But he doesn't call me out.
"We'll fix it together," he says, but his voice is tight. A warning that he won't wait for the truth forever.
Later, when he’s asleep with Vex curled against his chest, I sit by the window with the lights off, staring at the sky. The stars look close enough to break.
Autrua’s words echo in my head:He will find out.
Maybe that’s the only truth left.
I press my palms against the glass and whisper, “Not yet. Please, not yet.”
The city doesn’t answer. But somewhere in the dark, through the hum of the datapad I left on the table, I swear I hear a whisper—low, feminine, electric—bleeding through the circuits:
Tick-tock, little mother. Tick-tock.
And I know the countdown has started.
CHAPTER 36
TAKHISS
The wiring in cab #4 is a damn nightmare. Every time I think I’ve isolated the grounding fault, another frayed circuit rears its ugly little head. I’m elbow-deep in conduit, my claws twitching, when I hear the sound of a datapad hitting the floor in the office.
I flinch instinctively—combat reflex. I slide out from under the chassis and am at the office door in three seconds.
Ella is standing by the desk, gripping the edge so hard her knuckles are white. She’s staring at the wall like she’s seeing a ghost.
“Ella?”
She jumps, spinning toward me. Her eyes are red. Her breath comes in ragged gusts, and her hands are shaking.
“She knows,” she hisses. Voice shredded raw.
I straighten, wiping grease off my claws. “Who?”
“Autrua.”
