“No,” Vrek snaps. “You’re going to kneel. In front of your crew. In front of her. And you’re going to admit that you lost. That you gave everything up for a pretty face and a kid.”
I meet Pyramus’s eyes.
He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t need to.
I take one more step. Close enough now to see the pulse in Vrek’s throat. To hear the slight warble in his breath.
“Do it,” I whisper. “Pull the trigger. Let the whole galaxy watch you murder a child on a stolen bridge. That’s the kind of legend you want, isn’t it?”
His jaw clenches.
He twitches.
That’s all Reflector needs.
A pulse of white-hot light crackles from the far wall. A single, surgical EMP dart—aimed like a scalpel.
Vrek’s blaster shorts in his hand, the charge exploding back across the grip.
He screams.
Pyramus drops.
I move.
Before Vrek can react, I’m there—between them. Shielding the boy. My body coiled, hands ready.
“Get behind the console,” I bark.
Pyramus scurries.
Vrek charges.
But I’m not angry now.
I’mclear.
This is what I was born for.
Not war. Not raiding. Not vengeance.
Justice.
We collide. Fists. Elbows. Claws. He’s faster, but I’mfocused.Every blow I land is a promise. Every breath I take is a vow.
He tries to talk. Tries to shout orders. I cut him off with silence.
With inevitability.
I drive him back toward the command dais—toward the edge. Every light on the bridge flares in sync with the rhythm of our fight. The Raider knows who I am.
I spin him.
I drop him.
My claws at his throat.
