We disappear into the night.
CHAPTER 40
TAKHISS
She’s gone.
Not left. Not missing. Gone.
The apartment above the garage is empty when I get there. Door unlocked, lights still on. The kettle’s cold.
But the air still smells like her. That mix of engine grease, coffee grounds, and something warmer. Human. Home.
I stand in the middle of the room, staring at the hollow space where they should be, and the silence is so loud it feels alive.
She’s gone. And I have no idea where.
The cab’s gone too. The old rustbucket she swore she’d fix “someday.”
I slam my hand against the wall hard enough to crack the paneling.
“Ella,” I breathe. “What the hell did you do?”
I check the logs. Power grid pings. Fuel trackers. Traffic feeds. Nothing. She wiped it all. She knew how to disappear—better than I ever taught her.
The comm unit on the desk blinks once—an incoming call. I don’t have to check the ID.
Autrua.
I answer anyway, because fury needs a face.
Her hologram flickers to life. “Commander.”
I don’t sit. “Where are they?”
She arches one perfect brow. “You’ll need to be more specific.”
“You know damn well who I mean. You leaked the file.”
Her smile is polite, surgical. “I merely updated the public record. If she chose to flee, that is an admission of guilt. Instability.”
“She’s protecting him from you!”
“She is making him a fugitive,” Autrua says coldly. “And now, we have every legal right to hunt them down.”
The feed cuts out before I can respond.
Good. Because if I have to see that smile again, I’ll put my fist through the screen.
I walk out to the garage bay. It’s empty.
There’s a tiny toy wrench wedged under the workbench. Yellow plastic. A handle chewed on one end.
Vex’s.
I pick it up, turn it over in my hand. The weight’s nothing. But it feels like a thousand pounds pressing on my chest.
I close my fist around the toy wrench until it creaks.
