“I can give you High Lantern,” he says.
My spine stiffens anyway, even though I’ve been waiting for that sentence for days.
“Go on,” I say, careful.
Morazin licks his lips. “You guarantee me asylum. Outside IHC jurisdiction. Outside Alliance jurisdiction. Off-world.”
I let out a breath through my nose—half disbelief, half contempt. “You want a quiet retirement?”
“I want to live,” he snaps, and the sudden heat in his tone surprises me. His eyes flash. “You think I don’t know what happens to people who say the wrong name out loud?”
I straighten slowly.
“I think you’ve been saying wrong names out loud your whole career,” I reply. “You just thought you were protected.”
Morazin’s jaw works. Then his voice turns calculating again. “You can protect me.”
I almost laugh.
“You’re chained in a syndicate vault and you’re trying to negotiate like you’re still in a boardroom,” I say. “That’s adorable.”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t be stupid. You want the name. You want the bridge. You want the proof. I am offering it.”
“And you’re asking me to bargain away justice,” I say flatly.
Morazin’s smile is bitter. “Justice. That’s cute too. You still think institutions will do justice.”
My chest tightens, because the ugly part is… he’s not completely wrong. Institutions don’t do justice. They do risk management.
But I don’t say that.
I keep my voice sharp. “I’m not trading you for a promise I can’t keep.”
Morazin’s gaze flicks to the holo display again—the hearing framework, the dead-man release triggers.
“You can keep it,” he insists. “Kaijen has routes. Kaijen has ships. You have—” He sneers. “You have a godfather who thinks you’re special.”
Heat flashes through me. I step closer again, eyes hard.
“Don’t,” I warn softly.
Morazin’s smirk returns, smaller. “Ah. That one hits.”
I stare at him for a long beat, then exhale slowly and shift tactics.
“No asylum deal,” I say. “But I’ll offer you something else.”
Morazin’s eyes narrow. “Which is?”
“Survival through transparency,” I say. “You live if the truth becomes too public to bury.”
He laughs once, hollow. “That’s not survival. That’s a gamble.”
“It’s the only honest option,” I reply. “You want off-world immunity? You want a clean slate? That’s not on the table. But you want to live?” I gesture toward the holo. “Then you talk where everyone can hear. You become too loud to erase without consequences.”
Morazin’s throat bobs. His eyes dart, and for the first time he looks less like a predator and more like a cornered man.
“And if they still kill me?” he whispers.
