A blur of motion.
A shout.
A flash.
One of them flies backward, slammed into a bulkhead so hard the wall dents.
The others open fire. Blue-white taser arcs crack through the air, lighting the hangar in quick bursts of glare and shadow. The noise is deafening. Nessa screams — a small, terrified sound that slices through me.
“Down!” I shout, throwing myself over her.
A bolt hits the crate beside us. Sparks shower across my arm. I smell scorched polymer, ozone, blood.
Someone growls — not human. Low. Rough. Familiar.
The shadow steps out of the smoke.
Vael.
He looks like hell.
Armor shredded, one eye swelling shut, a burn scorched across his jaw. But his presence fills the space like gravity itself. Fury radiates off him in waves.
“Step away from them,” he says.
The bounty leader hesitates. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Vael smiles — not kindly. “Get in line.”
He moves.
I’ve seen Vakutans fight before, but never like this. It’s not rage. It’s focus — a mechanical, perfect violence. Every strike precise, every motion an echo of war. He catches one man’s wrist, twists, disarms, drives his elbow into the ribs. The crack echoes.
Another swings a shock baton. Vael grabs it mid-arc, turns it, jams it back into the attacker’s chest. The electric pulse throws both of them backward in a shower of light.
The woman fires. The shot grazes his shoulder. He barely flinches.
He’s bleeding — I can see it, bright against the dark of his shirt — but he doesn’t stop.
The leader tries to flank him. Vael catches the motion, pivots, and the next moment the man’s face meets the deck with a sound that makes me flinch.
Silence.
Then, slow, deliberate, Vael turns toward the last hunter still standing.
The man lowers his weapon, shaking. “You’re a monster.”
Vael’s voice is calm. “No. I’m a father.”
He takes a step forward.
The man bolts.
Vael doesn’t chase him. He just stands there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the metal floor.
For a moment the only sound is the hiss of the hangar vents and Nessa’s uneven breathing.
I pull her closer, heart pounding. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s over.”
