That investor was me.
I know where every credit sits.
And I’m ready to move them.
The council finally agrees—to consider. To review. To submit a vote.
But I already know.
It’s done.
After the cameras retreat and the crowds are cleared, Garokk leans against the far wall outside the chamber, arms folded. His wounds are bandaged, but the war still lives in his eyes.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.
“Yes,” I reply, stepping beside him. “I did.”
He doesn’t say thank you.
And I don’t ask for it.
Instead, I reach down and take his hand.
Warm.
Calloused.
And, for the first time,not running.
CHAPTER 29
GAROKK
They think they’re offering me mercy.
That’s the funny part.
They sit behind curved crystal desks like some smug council of gods—robed, jeweled, well-fed. Hands folded like they’re doing me a favor. Like they’vesummonedme, not the other way around.
One of them—older, thin-lipped, voice like a knife—clears his throat and says it with too much ceremony.
“Garokk of the Crimson Flame, formerly Garokk of the Outer Fang, currently unaligned and recently… re-domesticated.”
He smirks at his own insult.
“Your choices are simple. Exile to the asteroid colonies under guarded parole. Or conditional compliance: you serve the Combine for two cycles as a navigation warden and agree to full behavioral oversight.”
I stare.
Just stare.
They don’t know me.
Not really.
Not yet.
“Those are my choices?” I ask, voice low.
