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Veyr’s body went rigid against mine. He shoved away, leaving me holding empty air.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Buying seconds.”
“You can’t stand straight.”
He took one step. His leg folded. I grabbed his harness, hauling him upright. Blood soaked through my sleeve where my hand pressed against his side.
“No,” I breathed out.
“Talia.”
“No.” The word came out flat, final. “We already had this argument.”
His eyes met mine. The silver in them flickered like a failing power cell.
“You don’t get to die more politely this time.”
Something in his expression fractured. Then the first officer cleared the barrier.
Veyr moved—not the retreat I expected, but a lateral shift that put his body between me and the threat. His weapon came up in one fluid motion despite the tremor in his arm. The shot took the officer in the chest plate, knocking him back behind cover.
A second male emerged.
Veyr fired low.
The countermeasure field distorted the shot, but not completely. The weakened blast struck the male’s thigh hard enough to throw off his step.
His knee folded beneath him and he went down.
Veyr staggered. The light around his wound guttered like a candle in wind as the attack flared through his arm.
“Stop burning yourself up.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Noted.”
I dragged him toward the medical-transfer door.
The transport chamber beyond looked like a sealed freight pod with medical brackets along both walls.
Ugly. Functional. Beautiful.
We reached it.
Veyr turned once more.
Three attackers now.
One Veil.
Two Review.
The Veil operative raised his weapon.
Veyr shoved me inside.
The blast hit him.
