But one thing was clear to Erzo: he wouldn’t let the past define their future. Their clans have deemed them worthless for anything other than an arranged marriage, but Erzo knew the truth. They were more than pawns. They were fighters, survivors.
She saved him once.
It was time for him to return the favor.
2
Erzo strode into Fwan’s office, his footsteps echoing in the confined space aboard The Stonebroke, one of the Mining Guild’s colossal vessels. This behemoth of metal and technology ship was home to a legion of miners and support crews, drifting through the cosmos from one asteroid belt to another, harvesting the riches of the universe.
The Stonebroke had been anchored at this particular belt for years, an abundant source of mineral wealth scattered across the vastness of space. Amidst the fragments of ancient celestial bodies, they extracted ores that would fuel industries and economies across the galaxy.
Entering Fwan’s office, a tight, cluttered space within the ship’s sprawling interior, Erzo found him buried in paperwork. The office, a stark contrast to the vast space visible through its small window, was almost claustrophobic, barely containing Fwan’s formidable presence. To Erzo, this setting was a mere backdrop to his urgent mission.
“What do you want, Erzo?” Fwan’s voice was as gruff as the rumble of the ship’s engines.
Erzo, unshaken by Fwan’s brusque manner, plunged into his request. “I hear you’re the man to see for... personal matters.”
Fwan’s eyebrow arched—a rare movement on his otherwise stern face. “Personal matters?”
“I need a mate,” Erzo stated plainly, his voice betraying a hint of urgency beneath its steady tone.
Fwan snorted, a wry smile playing on his lips. “I don’t date men, Erzo.”
Erzo let out a chuckle, a brief respite in the gravity of his situation. Fwan remained stoic, unamused. Erzo wasn’t there for romance—he needed a solution, a way out of the intricate web of clan politics and forced arrangements.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Fwan leaned back in his chair, eyeing Erzo with curiosity and skepticism. “Never took you for the type to need help in that department.”
Erzo shrugged, his demeanor serious. “Desperate times. I’m in a bind, Fwan. Clan politics.”
Understanding dawned in Fwan’s eyes. “Ah, the Charro. They’re still after you?”
“More than ever,” Erzo admitted. “They’re pushing the marriage arrangement.”
Fwan whistled lowly. “That’s a tough spot. But why come to me?”
Fwan’s knack for pulling off the impossible stood as Erzo’s best shot. He was known for his resourcefulness and was the lifeline they desperately needed.
“You have connections, Fwan. I need a way out, fast.”
“Ah, family. Can’t live with them, can’t blast them into a black hole,” Fwan said with a wry smirk, acknowledging the predicament with a touch of dark humor.
“Fwan, you’re my only hope to keep Breal from a fate she doesn’t want, to save us both from being trapped in a future neither of us chose,” Erzo confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “We’re counting on you to help us dodge this arranged disaster.”
Fwan’s gaze hardened, assessing Erzo with a gaze that seemed to pierce through his facade. “Is this going to bring trouble to The Stonebroke?”
“It might,” Erzo admitted.
“Is it going to involve the authorities?” Fwan inquired, indicating he was no stranger to handling unusual requests.
“Just the Charro.”
Fwan’s lips curled into a barely audible snarl, a string of muttered curses weaving through his clenched teeth, each word dripping with the deep-seated ire of a man all too familiar with the complexities and burdens of unwelcome fates.
Erzo met his gaze squarely. “I’ll do everything to avoid bringing confrontation aboard The Stonebroke. You know me.”
“Yeah, I do,” Fwan mused. “And I know the Charro, too. They don’t let go easily.”
