And there—standing in the hatchway, framed by flickering light—Clint Rogers.
He looks older. Not physically—he's still lean, still sharp—but in the eyes. The kind of tired that doesn’t sleep off.
He lifts a hand, wordless. A steadying gesture.
“Hey, scaly,” he says quietly. “We picked her up off the transit tower. She's frozen through, but she's inside.”
My chest tightens.
“She’s…?”
He nods once. “Alive. But you should breathe before you go in. She’s running on fumes.”
I don’t breathe. I move.
The gangway feels smaller than I remember—low ceilings, cables everywhere, the hum of engines vibrating through my soles.
Voices echo from deeper inside.
“…I don’t care about jurisdiction, Clint. They took him. That’s all that matters.”
Her.
I follow the sound down a narrow corridor until the door slides open into the main cabin.
Ella’s standing in front of the holo console, one hand braced on the table, the other gripping a mug like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
She looks wrecked.
Eyes red, clothes torn at the shoulder, hair a tangled mess of damp curls. There’s grease on her cheek and blood on her lip.
But she’s alive.
When she looks up and sees me, she goes still. The air between us tightens until it hums.
“Takhiss.”
Her voice cracks halfway through my name.
For a second, neither of us moves. I don’t know if I should go to her or keep my distance. My heart’s a hammer in my chest.
“What happened?” I finally manage.
Her throat works. “They took him. Coalition. Ataxian agents. The sterilizer residue was still fresh.”
My claws flex. The sound of metal scraping against metal fills the room.
“Autrua,” I snarl.
Ella nods, eyes bright with fury. “Who else?”
Clint steps between us before I can move. His tone’s calm, controlled. “We’re already running traces. Nefarious found faint subspace chatter out of Novaria—coded transmissions to a diplomatic freighter under Coalition registry. It left orbit six hours ago.”
“That’s him,” Ella says, almost whispering.
Her voice breaks onhim.
I look at her, really look. She’s shaking. Not from fear. From exhaustion. From holding herself together too long.
