She looks the same. Still sharp as shattered glass. Coat flaring around her in a wind that doesn’t exist, plasma pistol at her hip, and a look on her face like she’s already ten moves ahead of whatever hell just opened in the arena.
“You’re not safe here,” she says, stepping forward. Her eyes flick to Ripley. “None of you are.”
I nod, out of breath. “I know.”
She reaches out for Ripley, gentle, careful. “I’ll get her out.”
I hesitate.
Ripley lifts her head.
“Mama?”
God. That word.
I drop to my knees, pulling the hood back so I can look her in the eye. Her lip quivers. Her eyes are wide. I’ve never seen her this afraid.
And she’s seen too much already.
“Listen to me, storm,” I whisper, brushing her hair back. “You’re going with Auntie Leena, just for a little while. She’s gonna take you somewhere safe. Where the bad people can’t find you.”
Ripley clutches my jacket. “But what about you?”
I lean in and kiss her cheek. “I’ve got something to finish.”
She starts to cry. I hold her tighter.
“I don’t wanna go,” she hiccups.
“I know.” My throat burns. “But I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?”
She nods, barely.
I kiss her forehead one last time. “Be brave, little storm.”
Leena takes her hand.
Ripley watches me the whole way to the skimmer.
And then she’s gone.
I run backtoward the fire.
The floor shakes under my feet—distant detonations rattling steel bones. Screams echo from the coliseum. Security klaxons whine and fail as my viruses eat through their cores.
I pass fallen mercs. Some groaning. Some still.
The hallway to the ring is smeared with blood. The kind of blood that smells too hot, too coppery.
I press forward anyway.
Valtron needs me.
He’s still standingwhen I reach the viewing edge.
Barely.
He’s bleeding from a gash across his ribs. Limping. His left gauntlet sparking. He’s surrounded by bodies. Not all of them mercs.
