Not when they beat me.
Because all I can think about is her face when she wakes up and finds me gone.
I’m sorry, Roxy.
But they were always gonna use me to get to you.
And I’d rather burn than let them.
CHAPTER 26
ROXY
The town's emergency lights are still flickering red when Marj’s voice breaks through every screen.
No warning. No intro. Just raw feed hijack—like she reached through the damn wires and ripped control from our hands.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls, every syllable dragging like molasses through a buzzsaw. “Look who we got tied up in our pen, folks.”
I freeze. Mid-step. Mid-breath. Every muscle tightens.
“You recognize him, don’tcha? Big bad butcher boy. Thought he’d come knockin’ and clean house. Thought wrong.”
I turn slowly toward the wall panel where the feed’s bleeding through. The holo-projector flickers twice before locking in. The image is grainy but steady. Vrok. Center frame. Kneeling in the dirt, arms yanked behind him, heavy chains looped across his chest and anchored to a spike driven into cracked concrete. Floodlights bleach the color out of his skin, leaving him pale under streaks of blood and grit.
But he’s upright.
Head high.
Eyes open.
Unflinching.
And for the first time since waking up to an empty bed, I canfeelhim again—like something hot and jagged piercing my chest, twisting through my ribs.
“Now, I ain’t cruel,” Marj continues, strutting across the frame in a ridiculous floor-length coat like some backwoods empress. “I believe in fairness. So here’s the deal. We give the Butcher a proper sendoff. Right out in the open. Audience welcome. No charge for front row.”
She grins. It’s not a smile. It’s a weapon.
“And wouldn’t it besomethin’if his little rebel queen came to watch?”
My stomach flips.
She knows I’m here. Knows I watched. That whole thing was bait.
The feed cuts to black.
Silence crashes in, sharp and sudden.
Then Kluzderfuvverupts.
I hear it through the floor—the thump of boots, doors slamming open, voices climbing over each other in panicked bursts. Someone’s yelling near the west sector tower. Another group is arguing just outside the barracks. The whole town is coming apart like a live wire left sparking in a dry field.
And my chest still feels like it’s caved in around the sound of his voice—even though he never spoke.
“Commander!”
Mayor Tebbles barrels into the room, panting, one sleeve half-rolled and his comm pad blinking uselessly in his hand.
