“That’s her,” he says.
“No,” I whisper. “It’s not. But it’s close enough.”
He takes the compad, scrolling through the metadata. I can see his mind moving — the soldier’s precision kicking in even while fear threads through it.
“Where’d it come from?”
“Drel says Tarek leaked it. Black-market boards.”
Vael’s jaw flexes. “He’s setting bait.”
“For scav gangs,” I add. “They’ll sniff a bounty like this before the Alliance even blinks.”
He tosses the compad back onto the cot, hard enough that the casing cracks. “He wants her alive. That’s the worst kind of hunt.”
I nod, throat too tight to speak.
Nessa shifts in her sleep, murmuring something to Razorclaw. The sound guts me. I sink onto the edge of the cot, elbows on my knees, palms pressed to my face.
“She’s just a child,” I whisper. “He’s turning her into a prize.”
Vael crouches in front of me, his hand finding mine. His palm’s warm — too warm — from the scrambler collar still running low power. I can smell the faint static coming off it, ozone sharp in the air.
“We can’t stay here,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
“Then we move.”
I drag my hands down my face. “And go where? Every off-world channel’s watched. Our IDs are dust. The gangs will hit the trade hubs first.”
“Then we don’t go up,” he says. “We go down.”
I look at him. “Down?”
“Sub-mine levels. The veins go deep enough to block sensors. We hole up there until Drel finds us a route.”
“It’s toxic down there.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“You’ll die down there,” I snap. “You can’t breathe that air any more than I can.”
His eyes flash, a faint reflection of the lantern. “Then we make filters. You’ve got the tech, Doc.”
I open my mouth to argue — and stop. Because he’s right. And because arguing costs us time.
The compad buzzes again. Another ping.
I glance down.
From:Drel
“Kael sent this. Said he burned his access to get it out. You’ve got hours, not days.”
I type back with shaking fingers:“He’ll trace you if you keep?—”
The message cuts off mid-send. Connection lost.
