She stares at me like I’ve just suggested breathing vacuum. “You can’t.”
“I’ve done worse.”
“That’s not the flex you think it is.”
Her tone. Her fire. Even now, when she’s scared, she argues. I can’t decide if it’s admirable or suicidal.
I step closer without realizing it. She doesn’t back away. Her head tilts back to look at me—eyes defiant, chin lifted. I can see her pulse flutter just beneath the skin of her neck. The scent of adrenaline and warmth fills the air between us.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I blurt.
She blinks. “Why?”
Because I know what it’s like to lose someone you were supposed to protect.
Because I’ve already failed once.
Because the wordjalshagarburns in my head like a brand.
Instead, I say, “Because I don’t repeat mistakes.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
The silence between us stretches thin, humming with static and breath.
Then a distant crash splits the moment—the sound of boots, shouts, gunmetal echoing through the corridors. Meyer’s crew. They’ve reached the outer level.
The Hulk shudders, lights flickering red across the deck.
She jumps. I move without thinking—placing myself between her and the sound.
“Stay behind me,” I growl.
Her voice trembles just once. “You’re going out there, aren’t you?”
“I told you,” I say, drawing my blade from its sheath. “I’ll handle it.”
She hesitates. Then, softer: “Garokk—don’t die.”
I glance back at her one last time.
And for the first time in fifty years, I realize I have something to lose.
CHAPTER 6
ISOLDE
Reflector’s right arm is lying on the floor. Again.
And he’s whining about it. Again.
“This is absolutely unacceptable,” he buzzes, the light on his lens flickering a frazzled amber. “I am not designed for violent environments, Isolde. I am a camera drone, not a combat drone. A camera drone.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, twisting a loose wire back into place, “you’ve said that about twenty times. Maybe thirty. Try holding still, would you?”
Garokk, over in the corner, makes a noise halfway between a growl and a sigh. The kind of sound that sayshe’s been watching this circus too long and is two seconds from throwing the tent into the sun.
“You waste time,” he mutters, voice gravelly enough to sand metal smooth. “The toy cannot fight. It slows you.”
