“You knew,” I say, the accusation slipping out before I can stop it. “You knew this was bigger than Yatori.”
Lonari’s gaze stays on the stars. “I knew it wasn’t honest.”
“That’s not—” I cut myself off, forcing breath into my lungs. “Okay. Fine. Maybe you didn’t know the details. But you’re not reacting like someone who’s shocked.”
He exhales through his nose. “Shock is a luxury.”
“You keep saying things like that,” I snap, “like it’s wisdom and not just trauma dressed up in a leather jacket.”
His head turns slightly, slow, and when his eyes meet mine in the dim cockpit light I feel that same physical awareness I felt in the wash—heat under my skin, pulse tightening, my body reacting to him even as my brain insists that reacting is stupid.
“Careful,” he says softly.
“Why?” I shoot back. “You gonna kill me for having opinions?”
He looks at me for a beat longer than necessary, then returns his gaze to the nav. “No.”
“Then talk,” I demand. “Because right now you’re flying me into Coalition-adjacent territory, refusing to go to IHC space, and acting like you’ve done this a hundred times, which makes me think you’re not just some random inmate who got lucky surviving in the wilderness.”
His mouth twitches faintly. “I got lucky.”
“Sure,” I say flatly. “And I’m the Supreme Admiral of Earth.”
He makes a low sound that might be laughter if it weren’t so brief.
I press. “What is Gur?”
“A world,” he says.
“I got that part.”
“A protectorate,” he adds, like I’m supposed to be satisfied. “Mined-out. Ugly. Useful. Neutral enough that people do business there without pretending they’re saints.”
“And you have connections there,” I say.
He pauses, which is basically a confession.
“I have family there,” he says finally.
My heart stutters. “Family.”
“Yeah,” he says, tone unreadable. “Family.”
I stare at him, trying to reconcile the word with the way he kills, the way he moves, the way he carries himself like he expects people to obey.
“Are you…,” I start, then stop because the sentence has too many directions it could go and none of them are safe.
Lonari’s eyes flick to me again. “Say it.”
“You were in Yatori,” I say slowly, “because you’re a convict.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re… clearly trained,” I continue, “and not drugged, and you have knowledge of hidden shuttle bays, and you talk like someone who’s used to giving orders.”
He says nothing.
My hands curl around the edge of my seat.
