I moved through the city with the practiced silence of a hunter, my body remembering skills I'd honed over years of survival. Years as an assassin had taught me how to read spaces, how to move through them without drawing attention. Where the guards would be stationed. Where the blind spots existed—the gaps in surveillance that could be exploited by someone who knew what to look for.
Fange City was a maze of corridors and chambers carved from derelict ships and scavenged station parts, a labyrinth that confused and disoriented newcomers. But I knew every inch of it. Every turn, every junction, every hidden passage.
I made my way to the lower levels—the maintenance tunnels that ran beneath the compound like veins beneath skin, carrying power conduits and air circulation ducts through thebowels of the city. Down here, the air was thick with the smell of rust and decay, and the only light came from flickering emergency strips mounted to the walls at irregular intervals, casting everything in shades of sickly yellow and deep shadow.
Roone was waiting for me in the junction where three tunnels met, his small form nearly invisible in the dimness.
He looked up as I approached, his large dark eyes reflecting the dim light like twin moons, his whiskers twitching as he assessed my approach.
"She's safe," he said immediately, before I could even ask the question burning in my mind. "Got her to the shack. Showed her the hiding spot—the loose panel in the floor where she can hide if anyone comes looking. Left her water and supplies."
Relief flooded through me, so intense it was almost painful. My chest loosened, the crushing weight of worry easing just slightly. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." Roone's ears swiveled forward, a gesture I'd learned meant he was alert to danger. "We've got a problem."
Of course we did. In Fange City, there was always a problem.
"Tell me."
"Persico." Roone's voice dropped lower, barely above a whisper, and he glanced toward the tunnel entrance as if worried about being overheard. "He's not running things anymore."
I went still, every muscle in my body tensing. "What?"
"Hewes made his move hours ago when Merrilee and I were escaping the city. Took control of Persico's inner circle—bribed half of them with promises of slaves and profit, killed the other half when they refused to turn. Now Persico's locked up in his own throne room, chained like an animal, while Hewes runs Fange City from his seat."
Fuck!
Hewes had taken over.
Which meant everything had changed. All my calculations, all my plans—they were based on a power structure that no longer existed.
"How do you know this?" I asked, needing to be certain. Roone was reliable, but this information was too critical to accept without verification.
"I hear things." Roone's whiskers twitched. "When I got back to the city, I heard some of the guards talking, so I went to investigate. I'm small. People don't notice me. And the vents go everywhere—I can access nearly every room in the compound. I've seen it myself. Watched Hewes giving orders from Persico's throne while Persico sits in a cage six feet away."
I believed him. Roone had survived in Fange City longer than most because he knew how to be invisible. How to listen. How to gather information that kept him alive when bigger, stronger beings had fallen.
"Persico's still breathing?" I asked.
"For now. Hewes is keeping him alive as leverage—Persico still has loyalists in the city, fighters who respect the old ways. If Hewes kills him outright, there'll be a war. Blood in the streets. Chaos that could tear Fange City apart. But if he keeps him caged, makes an example of him, shows everyone that even the mighty Kerzak crime lord can fall..." Roone trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. "It keeps people in line. Makes them think twice about challenging the new order."
My mind raced, calculating, weighing options, running through scenarios and outcomes.
Hewes in control changed everything. It made him more dangerous because he'd consolidated power. More protected because he'd surrounded himself with enforcers who owed him everything.
But it also made him vulnerable in ways he might not realize yet.
"Persico wanted Hewes gone," Roone said slowly, his voice thoughtful. "Before all this happened. He saw Hewes as a threat to his authority. Complained about him constantly—said he was getting too ambitious, making moves without permission."
"He was right." My tone was grim. "Hewes was planning this coup the whole time."
"So it would appear," the Negita agreed, looking disgusted.
"Then maybe..." I looked at Roone, an idea forming in my mind. "The enemy of my enemy."
Roone's ears flattened against his head, a sign of distress. "You want to make a deal with Persico."
"I want to kill Hewes." I kept my voice flat, emotionless, stating it as simple fact. "If that means working with Persico to do it, then that's what I'll do."
