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I adjust my shawl, grab my cane, and shuffle toward the entrance. No one stops me this time. The door swings opento reveal a room buzzing with activity—people chatting, playing cards, and a few dozing on cots. I hobble over to a man with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He’s nursing a cup of coffee that smells like it’s been reheated one too many times.

“Excuse me,” I croak, leaning on my cane. “You seen a fella around here? Short, stocky, kind of… well, let’s just say he’s got a face only a mother could love.”

The man looks up, squinting at me. “You mean Gordo?”

“That’s the one,” I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“Yeah, he was here,” the man says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Got lucky, though. Landed a job at the cannery. They come by every day, pick up anyone who wants to work. Jobs, housing, even health insurance. Can’t beat that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The cannery, huh? That’s… interesting.”

The man nods, then gestures to his leg, which is wrapped in a makeshift bandage. “Bad leg keeps me out of the running. But if I could, I’d be on that bus in a heartbeat.”

I force a smile. “Thanks, sir. You’ve been a big help.”

I shuffle back to the van, my mind racing. Lanz is leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his golden eyes narrowing as I approach. “Well?”

“Gordo’s at the cannery,” I say, dropping the old lady act. “They’ve got a bus that comes by every day, picks up workers. Jobs, housing, the works.”

Lanz’s jaw tightens. “That’s their recruitment strategy. Clever.”

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, crossing my arms. “I’m guessing you’re not just going to let me waltz in there.”

He looks at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he says, “Actually, I think you should get on that bus.”

I blink, caught off guard. “Wait, what? You’re not going to argue? Tell me it’s too dangerous?”

He steps closer. “Of course I’m worried about your safety. But I’ve also learned to trust you. The whole world has underestimated you your whole life, Tyler. I’m not going to make that mistake.”

My throat tightens, and I feel a tear slip down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly, but the warmth in my chest doesn’t fade. “You’d better come rescue me if I get in trouble,” I say, my voice trembling.

He pulls me into his arms, his grip firm but gentle. “Always,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead.

I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him—spice and something metallic, like the air before a storm. For a moment, I let myself believe that everything will be okay. That we’ll find Gordo, stop the Grolgath, and come out of this together.

But then I pull back, squaring my shoulders. “Alright,” I say, forcing a smile. “Let’s do this.”

Lanz nods, his golden eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place. Pride, maybe. Or determination. Either way, it’s enough to make me feel like I can take on the world. Or at least a bus full of Grolgath.

CHAPTER 22

LANZ

The amphibious assault craft bobs gently on the dark waves, the low hum of its engine barely audible over the sound of the ocean. I grip the edge of the craft, my claws digging into the reinforced metal. The cannery looms in the distance, its silhouette jagged against the cloudy sky. My scales itch with impatience, and I force myself to stay still. Waiting is the hardest part of any mission, but this time it’s worse. Tyler’s in there, alone, and every second feels like an eternity.

“You’re going to dent the hull if you keep that up,” one of the warriors mutters from behind me. I glance over my shoulder. It’s Krel, his blue scales glinting faintly in the dim light. He’s leaning casually against the side of the craft, his plasma rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll dent your face next,” I snap, but there’s no real heat behind it. Krel grins, showing off a row of sharp teeth.

“Relax, Lanz. Your human’s got this. She’s tougher than she looks.”

“She’s notmyhuman,” I growl, though the words feel hollow. Tyler’s more than that. She’s… I shake my head, refusing to finish the thought.

“Sure she’s not,” Krel says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s why you’ve been pacing this boat like a caged animal for the past hour.”

I glare at him, but he just chuckles. The other warriors exchange amused glances, but they know better than to join in. Krel’s always been the one with the big mouth.

“Focus,” I bark, turning back to the cannery. “We’re not here to chat. The second we get the signal, we move. No mistakes.”