Valen accelerates his game.
I rest my hands on the edge of the holotable and feel the vibration of the ship beneath my palms, steady and immense.
“They believe they have leverage,” I murmur.
Rethan’s voice is quiet when he responds. “Do they not?”
“They have provoked me,” I say.
The engines flare brighter.
“And that,” I continue, my voice low and certain, “is a mistake.”
CHAPTER 19
ELARA
Consciousness returns in fragments.
First the cold.
Not environmental—deliberate. The kind of climate control calibrated to keep a prisoner alert and uncomfortable without leaving visible marks. The air smells sterile and over-filtered, faintly chemical, like recycled oxygen scrubbed too aggressively. My skin prickles where it meets the metal slab beneath me.
Then the light.
White, clinical, unblinking. It hums faintly at a frequency just low enough to irritate without fully registering as sound. Alliance detention design. Minimal shadow. Nowhere to hide the eyes.
I open mine slowly.
The ceiling is smooth composite, seamless panels, recessed emitters. No visible screws. No visible vents. The kind of engineering meant to suggest inevitability.
My wrists are cuffed in front of me with restraint bands that hum softly against my pulse. Not tight. Just present. The sensation is like a reminder pressed against bone.
I inhale carefully.
No visible injury.
No immediate sedation fog.
They want me clear.
A door slides open without audible mechanism. Two Vakutan officers step inside, armor immaculate, visors lifted. Their eyes track me the way one assesses an unstable element.
“On your feet,” one of them says.
His voice is neutral. Professional.
I push myself upright without assistance. My muscles protest, stiff from whatever transit they used to bring me here, but I keep my movements deliberate. Measured.
“Location?” I ask, flexing my fingers slightly against the cuffs.
The second officer’s mouth twitches faintly. “Alliance command facility.”
“That narrows it down,” I reply.
Neither responds.
They escort me down a corridor lit in the same sterile white. The air here carries a faint metallic undertone—energy conduits running hot behind the walls. The floor is polished to reflective sheen. Cameras track our movement in silent arcs.
