But as we step into the golden haze beyond, she squeezes my hand.
I step forward, hearts bleeding toward her.
Into the future.
The platform quivers like a wounded animal beneath the weight of promise. Soft music drones from hidden speakers. The sea of executives, diplomats, and guardians leans in, breath held—the world hanging on this fragile accord. I stand beside Aria, her palm warm against mine, when the floor shudders.
First a low rumble. A distant sigh. A jolt that snaps through my spine. And then—it detonates.
Exploding shards of glass slice the air, and smoke gushes in like a tsunami. The orchid shatters into petals of flame. I’m on instinct: arms around Aria, helmeted bodies pressed into the walls, and for a heartbeat I think we survive.
Gunfire cracks—mechanical, unrelenting. Assault drones collapse sparks in the ceiling above. Shouts and carnage. Chaos erupts like a belated volcano.
I shout her name. She’s trembling beneath me, ears bleeding. I shove her down, covering her with my body as plasma rounds carve grooves into the marble floor. The world spins.
A flash grenade goes off. Flash and boom. When my eyes clear, she’s gone.
My heart stops.
Not a sliver of her.
Just carnage. Medics crawling. Smoking wreckage. Bodies twitching.
I roar—primal and deafening.
It tears through the haze as I search. Gunshots ricochet off glass. Security yells directives I can’t hear.
I launch forward.
I grab a fallen guard’s rifle, aim blind—somebody near me jerks sideways, a clean shot. I don’t hesitate.
Hot bullets tear the fabric of the room. I am the storm incarnate. I carve a path through gunmen, fling bodies aside like scuttling roaches. My bone spurs snap outward—bright white in the smoke, glinting like wraiths.
I crash through a secondary door. It slams open onto a landing. Gunmen swarm the bridge, but I don’t see them. I see her. Hooded and dragged—strong arms twisting her wrist, boots flashing across the steel flooring.
I roar again, racing forward like a comet crashing through darkness.
A hangar-level shuttle rips forward, shields flickering. The transport’s open ramp—a path of escape.
I’m twenty meters behind her.
Motherfucking twenty meters.
I sprint.
Gunfire hammers me. I drop shields over my forearms, take rounds to the suit. Sparks explode from the composite plating. I snarl and keep going. My fists bleed from smashing through guards, smashing locks. Fatalism coils around my mind. Iwill notlose her.
Transport rises—rotors whining like banshees.
And I know—the war has begun again.
But this time, she’s at the center of it.
And this time, my violence is no longer choice. It’s my vow.
CHAPTER 20
ARIA DAWSON
