Page 27

Niko listened as Elliott listed, in chronological order, all the Honeybliss members he’d assassinated.

He included Duuru Orkan, even though in the end it had been Bubblegum who’d taken him down.

Two more gunshots—this time closer than the first—sounded just beyond the walls of the broadcasting station.

Niko tried not to turn and look reflexively.

He partially succeeded, his gaze still shifting toward the door.

“...Starhawk takes direct credit for and condones those kills only. Any other murders of politicians, celebrities, Galapol officers, and other civilians that have occurred are the result of copycat individuals seeking to raise our exceptional, combined bounty in order to capitalize off of it as much as possible.”

“Y-you—” Niko cut in quietly. He hated how shaky and unsteady his voice sounded.

Speech class in high school had always left him near to pissing himself, and this entire mess was an even deeper nightmare beyond comprehension.

“You should know that the bounty has become a, um, w-weaponized gamble that's only putting lives in danger now. It’s doing far more harm than good.”

Elliott glanced at him and gave him a subtle but solid nod of encouragement.

Then he looked back to the camera. More gunshots sounded around them.

They were coming more frequently, and closer.

Whatever was going on had now broken into a straight up hot zone shootout, from the sound of it.

Death glanced nervously at the door. Niko didn’t like the look in her eye.

Then she turned her gaze on the two of them and swirled her finger through the air, indicating wrap it the hell up. Fast.

“Cala’di Senth. Hathasa Velor. Meghan Friess. Daranu. Jayson Cohl. Angela Kelsa. Marco Fulari. Ssavissthrya—”

Elliott was naming the victims now. Niko recognized several of them from the files.

His heart hurt. This hadn’t been a part of Elliott’s notes.

This was a moment of passion. He continued on, listing the names of people who were forever erased from the galaxy, their lives cut short by monstrous cruelty.

There wasn’t enough time. There was no way he could ever get through the list of the forgotten and dead with the moments they had left.

That he’d memorized every name was admirable to Niko, and touched something wounded and sorrowful deep in his chest.

Death gestured at them again, more harshly this time, but Elliott kept talking, the names rambled off quickly now, as fast as he could say them. His tone was growing into something frantic, faltering from the cool and collected veneer he’d projected moments before.

“Babe—” Niko cut in quietly. He looked sorrowfully at Elliott. “It’s time. We have to go.”

Elliott stopped, his list aborted now. He looked wounded. When he spoke again, it was in a plea to the camera—and whomever stood watching on the other side of it. “There are too many to name. Remember them. Remember the lost. Honeybliss took their lives because they didn’t view them as—”

A scattering of bullets pinged loudly off the exterior wall, causing Elliott to flinch and finally look. Niko ducked, pure reflex.

“—as people.”

“Let’s go ,” Niko said. He grabbed Elliott by the arm, pulling him away, but Elliott fought him, straining and wrestling against him until he’d pulled free.

His expression turned to something desperate.

“Cleo… Cleo Kestrel. Because of them, my sister never came home.”

An explosion somewhere nearby rocked the entire building and the lights flickered.

“Cut it,” Death snapped, and the background hologram changed to read OFF AIR, the light on the drone fading from green to red.

“Backdoor emergency exit,” Death said. “This way. Let’s go.”

They jogged out of the studio and down a long hallway, pausing at the very end before the fire exit. Death pulled them into a small side room that appeared to be a heavily fortified emergency and storm shelter, then closed and locked the door. She turned to Niko.

“We’re okay for a moment,” she said. “They’re holding it back, but they won’t be able to for long.”

“We—we should help you,” Niko said. He was dizzy, shaking. Nothing was making sense. “What do you need, Deleera? We’ll protect your people.”

“No.” She shook her head. The word had the weight of a concrete wall, immovable. “Not this time. You both need to get out of here. We’ll hold our own, don’t worry.”

Guilt crept through him, but he nodded.

“Take a second,” Death said. “We have that.”

Niko sagged into himself and laid the helmet on a nearby counter, the weight of two beloved lives crushing down on him now.

He’d made the call to go live. He may have just killed his stepfather, and couldn’t stop that thought from looping through his mind like a razorblade, tearing him to shreds.

He couldn’t think of a worse fate for the people he loved.

Honeybliss had proven its cruelty again and again.

He wanted to scream until his lungs gave out.

Elliott pulled him into a long hug that Niko couldn’t feel through the suit.

The degree of isolation, of separation it caused him was infuriating right then.

He wanted to tear it off piece by piece, throw the damn thing, go sit on the cool tile of the floor.

More than that, he just wanted to feel the embrace being given to him.

He wanted Elliott, wanted the comfort and warmth of him, human to human.

After a moment, he wrapped his arms around Elliott, a small wave of relief driving back the gargantuan, skin crawling panic a fraction.

“We’ll get them back,” Elliott murmured. “I’ll find them. I won’t let anything happen to your family, Niko.”

Death came over to him once Elliott had pulled away and clamped a hand firmly on Niko’s shoulder, then pulled him into a tight hug of her own.

“Listen to me. The moment you find where they are, point me towards them. My people and I will have your back.”

He swallowed back a lump of emotion growing thick in his throat. Niko had allies. He had friends. He had people who cared, who were willing to fight for and with him. Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe it wasn’t all lost, after all.

He briefly wondered if Elliott had felt the same emotions once, waking up in Baouban’s cabin with Niko at his side, granted another day of life at the compassion of another.

He felt more grounded now, if only marginally. He owed them both so much, in so many ways.

“Thanks, guys,” Niko said, clearing his throat.

His phone rang again, shattering the moment. He stared at Zann’s holographic contact photo, letting it ring through, unable to force himself to answer this time. The idea made him ill.

“It’s alright,” Elliott said again. “We’ll find them, Niko.”

A moment later, several chimes sounded as text messages began pouring in. Niko reluctantly opened them.

Niko, what the fuck?

What was that? Starhawk?

You really did this right now? You couldn’t wait on this?

What do you think this is going to mean for Dad and Loolae?

This was his fucking idea, wasn’t it.

He exhaled sharply in frustration. Niko was getting tired of Zann jumping to blame Elliott for everything that happened; the call to go forward with the broadcast, after all, had been his own and no one else’s.

I swear to fuck if my dad gets killed because of Kestrel’s murdering ass I’m not taking this rolling over. Fuck him.

That was too much, a line crossed. He knew Zann was spiraling into panic, lashing out. But he wouldn’t abide the threat, either. This wasn’t really the time to start texting, but he couldn’t bring himself to let that one lie.

No, Zann. This was my call. Elliott disagreed with me. Strongly. But we weren’t going to get another chance.

And we aren’t going to get another dad, Zann shot back. The words made Niko ache. He was at a loss, with nothing more to say.

After a moment, Zann texted again. Look, I’m sorry. I’m not being fair. I know why you did it. But I’m scared, you know?

I know, Niko sent. I am too. But we’ll find them. I promise, Zann. If it’s the last thing I ever do.

Make sure it isn’t, Niko , Zann replied. I can’t lose you too.

Niko swept the texts away.

“Okay. It’s getting ugly out there. You both need to haul ass. Don’t let yourselves be seen,” Death said.

“Are you sure—” Elliott started.

“Do you think I’ve lived this long to be taken down by some rent-a-cops?” Death cut him off. Then her tone gentled. “Go.”

Niko glanced at her. “I owe you, Deleera. More than I could ever repay.”

“Don’t worry about that anymore, Niko. This is bigger than any one of us now.”

Their ride back aboard the Sonadora was agonizing.

The tiny ship felt like a cage, its metal walls pressing down hard on Niko.

Minutes melted into a miserable hour. They still had several ahead of them trapped in here.

The moment they'd gotten alone again, Elliott’s brave facade had fallen apart entirely.

He paced around the cabin of the ship, his expression crumbling further and further into despair.

Niko sat in the pilot’s seat, unable to look at him.

Or at anything. The sound of his boots against the floor as he paced was wearing a hole through Niko’s flimsy reserves.

Elliott paused in the doorway to the cockpit. Niko glanced up at him, but the other man looked on the verge of throwing up, his skin ashen and waxy, expression miserable.

“I— Niko—” Elliott’s words came slowly, as though he were choking on them. His eyes were full of pain and quiet terror. “This—this is all my fault. I got your ex-lover killed. Now your father is— Honeybliss—”

It was too much. Niko wanted to shut him out.

He couldn’t handle it. He could barely keep himself and the horror of his situation together, could barely even keep drawing in breaths at this point.

He’d possibly—had likely , even—made the call that would see his father and longtime friend dead.

He couldn’t handle carrying Elliott and trying to gather all his shattering pieces too.

Niko stared at him. The pain on Elliott's face made guilt and shame strike him hard in the gut. Elliott wasn’t a burden. He wasn’t too much. “Come here,” Niko muttered.

Elliott hesitated, then sat on the edge of the co-pilot’s seat. Niko clasped one of his pale, trembling hands in both of his own tattooed, bronze ones, then raised it to his mouth and kissed it. “Elliott. Look at me. This wasn’t you. You had nothing to do with this.”

“But I did. If you had never helped—”

“ I made the call, Elliott. I did. Not you. It was entirely on me. You wanted to shut the broadcast down. I’m the only one who gave the go ahead. This is on me. I chose it. Just like I chose to help you in the first place. Do you understand?”

“But I—”

“Don’t take my choices away from me, Elliott.

” They both looked each other in the eyes, pleadingly.

Elliott was clearly feeling the same helplessness and misery he himself felt.

He was just as scared. Finally, he relented, seeming to deflate a little before reaching out and wrapping around Niko and holding him tightly.

The remainder of their drive back to the facility, Elliott held Niko against himself. He cradled him, holding Niko’s head against his shoulder and stroking his hair.

The warmth of Elliott’s shoulder against his cheek was a gentle balm.

Niko watched the star lines quietly drift by outside the Sonadora’s windshield.

They seemed to have a lazy, careless flow to their movement, yet in truth the ship was passing entire solar systems so quickly that they all blurred into lines of light.

He drifted in and out of sleep, a vicious headache beginning to tighten behind his eyes.

“It’s going to be alright,” Elliott said. “We’re going to get them back. I’m going to find them. I won’t give up until I do. I promise you that, Niko. I'll do anything I can.”

We’re going to get them back. We’re going to get them back. Niko let the words run through his mind like a mantra, a singular wall pushing back against the choking despair of knowing he might be the one to have ended his father’s life.

It’s going to be alright. The thought came delivered on Elliott’s low, silken voice. And somehow that made it more tangible. It made it something Niko could reach for, try to believe in.

“No more killing until we find them,” Elliott said. His fingertips brushed the shell of Niko’s ear as he stroked his hair. “I’ll bring your family back home.”

Niko frowned, a new layer of guilt threading into the rest that already churned through his gut. He knew how much putting an end to Honeybliss meant to Elliott. He’d made that quite clear on plenty of occasions.

But Niko knew pausing was for the best. They couldn’t afford to provoke Honeybliss even worse than they already had. This was his family.

He recalled the break in Elliott's voice when he'd finally spoken his sister's name. He'd been so insistent on getting it out—enough to overpower and fight off Niko’s grip on him.

Niko couldn’t save Cleo Kestrel. He was and would always be too late for that now. Nor could he save his own mother and brother, who both rested quietly forevermore in a cradle of dark earth. But he could, maybe, still save his father and Loolae.

If it wasn’t too late for them, too.

“Okay, babe,” Niko murmured, his voice thick and syrupy in his throat. It was hard to get any words out.

“No more killing,” Elliott said softly, and leaned down to plant a lingering kiss in Niko’s hair.