Two armed escorts fell in behind her while the officer ahead led her through a series of security doors that opened only after silent scans of his face and wrist.
Nobody spoke.
Further in the station, alarms beeped in warning under the engine noise. It sounded as if fate were still deciding whether this would become a disaster. Despite Emerson’s certainty that they would pass this checkpoint, Audrey’s mouth went dry at what she would have to endure first.
Holding her shoulder in a firm grip, the officer led her through each door, making sure she could do nothing but walk forward under his control. Emerson’s warning ran through her head.
This wasn’t routine.
She’d been interrogated enough times about her crimes to know routine questioning did not come with armed escorts, mirrored glass, and enough security to bury a body behind.
The floor under her feet shifted from ship steel to smooth black composite. The atmosphere changed too—less oily, more sterile. If she had to guess, they were taking her into the administrative center of the transit system. They passed a pane of dark glass. In it, she caught a warped reflection of her pallid face, tangled curls, and clothes hanging loose.
She looked like what she had become.
Cargo that had learned how to walk.
At least she still had Cary’s leather jacket.
They came to a final door displaying symbols she couldn’t read and one line of English beneath them:RESTRICTED TRANSIT ADJUDICATION.
The officer pressed his hand to the panel. More impossible-looking locks disengaged in a heavy sequence. Even here, she could feel the low vibration of the transit station under the floor.
When the door slid open, every person in the holding bay looked up at the sound, their attention snapping to Audrey and her escort. She squared her shoulders and held her head high, determined to stay focused on anything she could use for leverage, whether it be lies or confusion.
Revealing that she was a captive from Earth didn’t feel smart. They probably already knew and didn’t care—that was likely why she and Emerson had been locked away while the rest of the Separatists moved more freely.
If she attempted to explain she was here with wanted fugitives—essentially trying to turn in the Separatists—she doubted anyone would believe her. Mihail and the others had the paperwork. They knew exactly what to say, in the right language. Her gut told her the Aggregate’s real goal in places like this was to move any Level Zero traveler through quicklyand quietly, then keep them contained on their own planets or moons.
She had absolutely no rights here, and no leverage against the Voíríans who’d kidnapped her. She resisted the urge to bolt as they marched into the room, where too many people already knew her name. Some sat, others stood, all waiting to be processed. Something about the area felt wrong already, and the formal questioning hadn’t even begun—if she was to be the first.
Nikos was there, jaw rigid, one hand resting near the weapon at his hip. Another Voírían stood half a step behind him, still as concrete, tattooed arms folded over his chest.
And Mihail?—
Mihail was at the center of it all like he belonged there more than anyone else.
One sleeve was burned through near the forearm, where Audrey’s fire had caught him earlier. He wore the damage carelessly, as if it were an insult rather than an injury. His black eyes slid to her once as she entered, then away again. He was already bored by her presence because he knew exactly where she was and who held her.
That should have been the worst thing in the room.
It wasn’t.
Alex stood at the opposite end of the table in a black fitted suit with an Aggregate seal pinned at the breast. His hair was combed back. His posture was flawless. A thin tablet glowed in one hand. The assured, careful way he held himself made him look exactly what he now was—educated, official, impossible to reach.
Audrey forgot how to breathe.
Alex looked up as they forced her closer to the center, where everyone stood. His face changed—not much, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for her to see the shock, guilt, and something harder to name shining in his eyes.
But before she could even truly clock his emotions, they faded under polish. “I’m advising on a Level Zero custody dispute and conferring with my clients in private, which is my right under inter-Aggregate transit law. You need to leave.”
Any hope drained from her face. This wasn’t a rescue from her friend.
It was a custody battle.
Alex wasn’t here as Alex, her friend, anymore—he was here as one more player in a fight over who got to claim her.
The officer stood his ground. “We’ve been ordered to stay with this one at all times while she’s out of the holding cells.”
