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“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.