Page 55

“Elliott has taken upon himself to be judge, jury, and executioner,” Johann added in.

His face bore a tragic expression that made Niko want to punch him.

This had been the same guy who’d gladly told Galapol about Elliott being a broken and violent child, only to have been the one to actually dole out drunken violence on his family instead.

“We don’t accept those actions and, as Mary said, we don’t condone what he’s done and continues doing. ”

A reporter mumbled something and Johann shook his head. “No. We’re not in contact with him in any way. We haven’t been in years.”

The press was practically climbing on top of one another now, frantically crowding in to try at a chance for getting a statement. An elegant and veiled Quwa-quay won out, asking, “Do you have any thoughts on the rapidly growing support across—” Niko couldn’t make out the rest.

Johann and Mary glanced at each other. “No, we have no comment,” Mary said. “We’ve made our statements. We don’t condone murder, regardless of the reasons or any public sentiment.”

A Gheroun woman desperately shouted for their attention from further back in the crowd.

Niko could only make out fragments of what she said.

Something about a bounty hunter, Starhawk, and the word ‘babe.’ Mary listened before shaking her head adamantly.

“No, I don’t know anything about that. I never met that man. I have no comment.”

Elliott swiped the feed away, and the ship fell into heavy silence.

“They’re being paid off, still,” he said. “Their clothes are designer. They never had the money for that sort of luxury before. They’re too stupid to even try hiding it. I recognize the dress. It’s an authentic Danaala Vessce. She has a very distinct style. It’s ironic. Cleo used to love her work.”

“Elliott…”

“They know exactly what happened to Cleo, now. They’re accepting money from the people who raped their daughter and ensured she never came home again. They’re buying her favorite fashion designer’s dresses to wear with it.”

It was sickening. Even thinking about the elder Kestrels and the complete disregard they had for the lives of their children made Niko's skin crawl.

And it wasn't fair. Elliott had given a home and safety to Niko’s family; they played music over the intercom, filled the halls, worked out in his training room, cooked breakfast in the kitchen.

Yet, Elliott’s own parents were deplorable pieces of shit who, somehow, still continued to only betray the memory of their fallen daughter and wound their living son. Again and again and again.

Be part of my family, he wanted to blurt out. The words were on the tip of his tongue. We’ll take care of you . But it felt wrong, felt disingenuous or cruel to say when Niko himself had wounded Elliott too. He needed to do something about it.

Even though the words were still so tangled up in the pit of his stomach, wrapped in dread. He didn’t know how to address what was so misaligned inside himself.

But maybe he could try.

“Elliott, listen—”

Elliott stood. “I’m going to go take a nap. I didn’t sleep well.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” The words fell from Niko’s mouth before he could even think about it.

Elliott froze and narrowed his eyes as though he’d heard something unpleasant. “No.”

Before Niko could say anything more, the other man left the cockpit.

Niko had definitely fucked up. Why was it so hard to talk about?

Why was it so hard to even acknowledge? Even the idea of discussing what they’d done between each other was daunting and sent his pulse hammering.

He missed the days when things were easier, when he didn’t rely on tech-suits and chairs.

When he could shove his lovers against the wall and take them roughly, or have them while they were down on their hands and knees for him, sloppy and uncomplicated.

He didn’t have to think about it then. And they’d all been happy enough with that arrangement.

Why did Elliott have to come in and shake it all up?

And why had he had to insist that this was exactly what Niko wanted most? As though the other man were some sort of omniscient god who could claim to know what Niko felt inside.

His chest tightened with frustration and an anger he didn’t know where to direct—Elliott, himself, or maybe something else entirely—all over again.

No. He wasn’t ready to apologize yet. Not until he was able to approach this more calmly.

Even thinking about the subject got him riled up again, defensive and pissed off like a porcupine putting up its spikes.

If they went there right now, he knew he’d probably just lash out once more.

He might be a fucking mess at the moment, but he at least knew not to try and make things even worse for Elliott by panicking and doubling down all over again, driving the knife deeper.

Today’s job was going to be hard.

They landed the Sonadora back behind Enva’ruu’s mansion, which resided on a private and generous amount of acreage on Neema.

The skies above them were a deep, thickly-clouded azure.

Enva’ruu’s land was filled with wild foliage, all indigo- tinted and feathery to the touch, with—to Niko’s awe—a few bioluminescent, gently glowing flower cups scattered here and there.

They decided to keep the ship’s stealth on.

With any luck, they would be in and out fast. Another quick job, just like Cnrys’s had been.

Elliott wasn’t much in a talking mood and neither was Niko, a sea of unspoken words churning between them.

When they did talk, it was short and to the point.

All business.

“There’s a back entrance,” Elliott said, “that I saw on his blueprints. It should lead in through the kitchen. It will be easier to keep unnoticed if we go that way. He might have guards here keeping an eye out that we’ll have to be careful of.

Especially now that I tattled on him all over the internet. ”

Niko nodded. “Alright. Let’s make this quick.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

They made their way under stealth to the back door, exactly where Elliott had predicted it to be.

He seared straight through its lock with the small laser he carried, opening it softly and slipping inside.

Niko tried to follow as quietly as he could, though the suit would always make it a challenge.

Both it—and he—would never be built for stealth.

They traversed through an ornate and elaborate kitchen with pale, marbled counter tops and arching windows, and into an open foyer with a grandiose chandelier and polished floor, whose tiles formed a spiral pattern not unlike the image of a galaxy.

The mansion had to be huge, even bigger than the Xermotl magician’s had been.

Niko couldn’t help but wonder what people even did with houses this big, other than throw parties.

There would never be any need for possessing seven bedrooms and four bathrooms. And Enva’ruu had no family; his wife had been dead for over a decade and he’d never remarried.

Niko wouldn’t be surprised if the man had actually killed her.

His videos had shown a particular aggression and torturous violence that, unlike most of Honeybliss, had never strayed into anything sexual.

There were no guards or security staff posted, the entire estate silent and still. Nor were there any Galapol agents waiting them out, like they’d been at Khaathra’s. But there was something heavy in the air that gave Niko pause.

“Master bedroom’s upstairs, to the left,” Elliott said, taking a step toward the spiraling, central staircase.

Niko lashed out an arm and quickly grabbed for where he thought Elliott’s wrist was.

He’d aimed true and gripped it tightly, stopping the other man in his tracks.

They were slowly getting better at functioning under stealth, it seemed.

Elliott froze, before subtly trying to pull his hand away.

It hurt. Niko let him go.

“What is it?” Elliott said, sounding tense now.

“I… don’t know,” Niko admitted, swallowing.

Inside the helmet, he could hear the click of his throat.

The rest of the mansion was eerily silent.

“Something’s not right, though.” He couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was that electric tension in the air, something uncanny that he’d sensed before on jobs.

Something was off about the entire place that made Niko’s skin crawl, pressing down on him.

He wasn’t even sure what had set him off—a sound, maybe, so quiet and subtle it could have been imagined.

But something had sent every alarm in him blaring now.

They weren’t alone, and it wasn’t welcome company.

His heart was pounding now, a survival instinct, something primal. He could feel his pulse in his throat.

“Elliott—”

The world around them exploded suddenly in a flash of bright, caustic green that hung in the air.

Niko instinctively grabbed Elliott against himself.

He realized their energy shields had been triggered by and were drenched in bog-theun toxin.

It hung heavy on them, eating away into whatever force Elliott used to power their barriers.

“Oh shit, oh shit.”

Niko pulled them over behind a tall, thick, white pillar near the base of the stairs. Seconds later, they watched in helpless horror as the protective barriers around them faltered, glitched, then fell away entirely, followed by their cloaking.

“Hi there, Paycheck,” a familiar voice sang out. Bubblegum. “I missed your pretty face. Why don’t you come out and see me?”

A spray of bullets pelted the column they hid behind, chunks of plaster flying around them.

He could hear Elliott’s breath emerging in shaky, sharp pants beside him. “Are we bugged?” he murmured. Then, he called out louder, “How the fuck did you know we were going to be here?”