And she looks like she wants to throw something.
I drop my gaze.
Not in shame—but because I can’t afford to stay in that moment. Not now. Not while people are still running, still screaming, still waiting for one twitch from me to justify every round they have chambered.
I duck behind the barricade, half-crouch, wave Thresk down beside me.
“Status?”
“Security’s overcompensating. Half their own drones are glitching from power feedback. Idiots lit up their own surveillance relays.”
I glance over the barricade again. She’s gone now—pulled deeper behind a security wall, out of sight. I feel the loss like a wound.
But she saw me.
And she didn’t look away.
“Reflector, give me an evac route.”
“Back service ladder to storage lift 9-B. I can disable the signal delay long enough to get you out clean.”
“Crew status?”
“All accounted for. Minor burns from secondary fire. One bruised ego. Crik walked into a dessert cart.”
I don’t laugh.
I can’t.
“Pull back,” I say. “No retaliation. No grand exit. We disappear.”
“You’re just going toleave?” Crik’s voice is a snarl.
“I’m not walking into her life with a body count at my heels. You want her to think I’m still the bastard who left?”
“You are,” Crik mutters.
“Then let me prove otherwise.”
We move.
One by one, silent, covered by the smoke and confusion. No bullets. No heroics. No second chances.
As we vanish into the corridor, I let myself take one last glance over my shoulder.
No sign of her.
No words exchanged.
But the echo of her glare still burns behind my eyes.
CHAPTER 21
ISOLDE
I’ve never heard silence this loud.
Even inside this bunker of a room—blessedly sealed, polished to corporate perfection, lined in glistening plastisteel and smart-fabric cushions that smell like new credits—everything stillechoes.
