Just looking.
The kid sleeps like a warrior—one arm thrown across her head, tiny fists curled like she’s ready for a fight.
“You still think we shouldn’t run?” Rynn asks without looking at me.
“No,” I answer. “I think we run smarter. And this time, we run toward something.”
Her head tilts, just barely.
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we go down trying to build her a world where she doesn’t have to hide.”
The silence stretches.
Then Rynn murmurs, “She deserves better than shadows.”
I cross the room, place a hand on her back.
“She deserves firelight,” I say. “And stars.”
CHAPTER 19
RYNN
The door chimes the coded signal three times, fast then slow.
Drel.
I let him in with trembling fingers, triple-checking the privacy veil even though we both know Tarek has bypasses for that kind of tech. Still, Drel steps inside like the hallway could explode behind him at any second. His hood's pulled low, shadows clinging to the ridges of his Alzhon features, and his breath fogs from the chilled air cycling through my vent grid.
He doesn’t speak until I’ve closed the door and thrown the manual lock for good measure.
“It’s done,” he mutters, holding out a slim chip drive. “Clearance packet and stealth corridor map. Civilian egress vector, coded through a refugee lens. It'll pass scrutiny if you don’t linger.”
I take it with both hands. My palms are slick with sweat. The drive is so small. Too small to carry everything we’re betting our lives on.
“How long do we have?” I ask.
Drel looks me dead in the eye. “One shot. That’s all. Tarek’s already flagged two of your subroutines. He's not officiallypulled you, but he's watching. You make one wrong turn and he’s on you before your next breath.”
My stomach lurches.
“And Vael?” I murmur.
Drel’s gaze hardens. “They want to use him. They think he doesn’t know. You and I both know he does. Tarek’s giving him rope so he’ll hang himself.”
I swallow back bile.
"Then it's time," I whisper.
Dinner is silent.
Not the quiet kind, not the peaceful hush of a family winding down. No. It’s tension that buzzes under the table like static. My nerves are so frayed I jump when Nessa clinks her fork against her plate too hard.
She picks at her food. Vael doesn’t even pretend. He stares at the wall like he’s scanning mission coordinates.
I try. I do. I serve her the root roast she loves. I even slice the vegetables into silly shapes like I used to. But her jaw is tight, and her eyes flick between us like she's trying to decode the conversation we’re not having.
