That smile doesn’t fade.
He’s just standing there.
Like he owns the stars and the dust between them.
Like we didn’t just crack his secrets open and broadcast them to every corner of Alliance space.
Tarek’s coat flutters in the wind, pale blue under the floodlights, the insignia on his collar darkened by soot or blood—I can’t tell which. His smile doesn’t falter, not even when Vael shifts forward like a storm barely leashed.
“Don’t,” I murmur, fingers brushing his arm. “He wants a reaction.”
“I’ll give him one,” Vael growls.
And he does.
He launches. A blur of motion, teeth gritted, eyes blazing. There’s no warning, no war cry—just raw, explosive power propelling him forward, feet pounding against the pad with enough force to shake the plating.
But Tarek’s ready.
His hand doesn’t go for the pistol. It dips to his belt, flicks a switch?—
And the world lights up.
A sharpcracksplits the air. Not like a gun. Higher, faster.Wrong.
Vael jerks mid-charge, body arching like he’s been yanked by the spine. His limbs seize. His cybernetics whine, sparking at the joints. The impact throws him sideways, hard.
He hits the tarmac like a fallen pillar.
I scream his name and drop to my knees beside him.
“Vael! Vael—hey?—”
His body’s still twitching, teeth bared in a grimace of pain. His left arm spasms once, then goes limp. The plating smokes at the seams. He’s breathing, barely—but the disruptor scrambled his neural grid.
“You piece of shit!” I snarl, whipping toward Tarek. “What the hell did you hit him with?”
Tarek doesn’t answer right away. He lifts the disruptor in one hand, tilts it like a wine glass. “Vakutan synaptic breaker. Illegal on human circuits. Instant full-body nerve cascade. Gorgeous tech, really. Took years to replicate.”
He flicks it again and slides it into the holster with a little flourish.
I’m already reaching for the medpatch on my belt, fumbling with shaking fingers. Vael’s heart rate’s all over the place.
“I warned you not to cross me,” Tarek says, stepping closer. The sound of his boots—slow, deliberate—grates against theback of my skull. “But you had to play the martyr. Had to make it personal.”
“You shot him,” I spit, not looking up. “He wasn’t armed.”
“Wasn’t he?” His voice is slick with contempt. “Vael Draykorr is always armed. That body of his is a weapon. You know that better than anyone.”
Vael groans softly beside me, fingers curling, but his eyes stay shut.
“Stay down,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
Tarek stops a few meters away, just inside my peripheral vision. His tone changes—goes flat. “You think this ends with a data leak? You don’t understand how deep this goes.”
I rise slowly. My hands are wet. I’m not sure if it’s blood, coolant, or sweat.
Tarek gestures behind him at the smoke-wreathed horizon. “The Alliance doesn’tneedevidence. It needs narratives. Enemies. Threats to stability. You gave them both when you birthed that creature.”
