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“It is not.”

“How reassuring.”

I stepped into the corridor.

For several seconds, I heard nothing behind me.

Then came hurried footsteps.

Talia appeared at my side without looking at me. “This does not mean I trust you.”

“I did not ask you to.”

“And if you try to drag me anywhere⁠—”

“You will attempt to strike me again.”

She finally looked up. “I’ll aim better.”

I almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, I led her toward the service exit.

The termination order remained active.

I had not refused it.

Not yet.

I simply needed more information before I decided whether Talia Mercer was truly dangerous.

At least, that was what I told myself.

For now, it was sufficient.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Talia

Ifollowed the stranger because apparently my survival instincts had finally given up and gone home without me.

That was the only reasonable explanation.

He walked half a step ahead, never looking back to make sure I was there. He didn’t need to. Every few seconds, his head shifted slightly, his attention moving between intersecting corridors, doors, ceiling panels, and the people we passed.

Not casually.

Counting. Assessing.

He wore dark, fitted gear in a gray that matched the station’s interior. No insignia, no rank markers, nothing to read. The fabric was matte, the kind that didn’t catch light. A harness crossed his chest under the outer layer, straps visible only when he turned and the material shifted. Boots, thick-soled and scuffed at the edges, made almost no sound on the deck plating. His shoulders took up more space than any door we passed through, and he angled himself through them without slowing.

Once, his sleeve pulled back from his wrist and I saw a blade sheathed against his forearm. Then the fabric settled and it was gone.

Whatever he was, he had done this before.

A lot.