Page 83

CY

T he transport docked against the roof of HQ with a gentle thud , the magnetic clamps engaging with barely a whisper. Perfect engineering, as always. Neo Stellaris sprawled before us—the usual neon glow scarred by unnatural darkness where the Magenta District now smoldered.

I hadn’t spoken during the flight. Neither had Eon. She’d remained pressed against the window until the Magenta District vanished from view, her fingertips leaving ghost impressions on the glass when she finally pulled away.

The transport bay doors slid open, revealing the sterile white of POM’s landing platform. Maddox gave me a nod before disappearing with the beta squad and their rebel captives. Standard protocol: processing, interrogation, disappearance. I’d performed it countless times without question.

Tonight, all I could think about was getting Eon away from them. Not that “away” existed anymore.

I guided her through the scanner checkpoint, my hand hovering near her elbow but not touching. Her steps were mechanical, her gaze fixed on some middle distance only she could see. The scanners washed over us with blue light, logging our biodata, confirming identities.

My helmet pinged as we passed the security threshold, Eon’s Vysor did the same, a faint glow illuminating her face as her new credentials were uploaded.

Employee A-17942. Research Specialist.

The asset had been acquired.

“Cyanos.”

Tex stood waiting, his posture perfect as always. No sign of the gun he’d held to Eon’s mother’s head just minutes ago. No trace of that millisecond of hesitation I’d glimpsed.

“Report to medical for standard postoperative protocols. Ms. Ibarra will be processed and oriented per standard procedure.”

Standard procedure. As if we hadn’t just facilitated the deaths of thousands. As if Eon hadn’t been blackmailed into corporate servitude. As if this was just another Tuesday at POM Enterprises.

“Sir, with respect, she needs medical attention first.” I kept my tone neutral despite the rage coiling through my implants, through me.

Tex studied me, his eyes too still. I’d served under him for a decade, but in a single moment, that had all fallen away. I’d betrayed the company. Standard protocol was termination—and if I was lucky, the employment kind.

“You’ll escort her to her assigned quarters. Level 93, Unit 42B.” He handed me a physical access card. “Levi wants her comfortable before orientation begins tomorrow.”

Something in his voice sounded almost…tired.

“Yes, boss.” I took the card, measuring my movements to appear properly subordinate. One of the first lessons he’d taught me: never let an enemy know you’re about to strike.

Tex’s gaze shifted to Eon, who stood unmoving beside me, eyes unfocused. “The path ahead will not be what you imagined, Ms. Ibarra. But it is necessary.”

She didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.

“Tomorrow. 0800 hours. Orientation begins.” Tex turned to leave, then paused. “Cyanos, remember your role in this.”

The warning was clear. I was still POM property too, but I hadn’t used up my value yet. My muscles released as the immediate threat passed.

“Always do, boss.”

The elevator ride to Level 93 was silent, the capsule rising smoothly through the central spine of POM Tower.

And everywhere, Stellarium. The pipes ran through the building like arteries, their pure white glow a stark contrast to the corrupted magenta we’d left behind.

The lifeblood of Neo Stellaris, flowing through its chosen vessel.

This city had once been known as the City of Angels. Now, only devils remained.

I studied Eon’s reflection in the glass. Six months ago, she’d broken into this place, electricity dancing across her skin as she took what she wanted from the heart of their empire. Now she stood motionless, a ghost of herself, returning as a prisoner disguised as an employee.

The elevator announced our arrival with a soft chime. Level 93—executive housing. Not where they’d keep standard employees. Not even specialists. Levi wanted her close.

The corridor stretched before us, all minimalist elegance and hidden surveillance. I knew there were seven different security systems—it was my job to monitor them. They weren’t taking any chances with their new acquisition.

“This way.” I gestured toward the north wing. She followed without acknowledging me.

We passed holographic art installations that shifted in response to our electromagnetic signatures—mine a violent blue storm, hers barely registering at all. The carpet whispered beneath our feet, absorbing sound to maintain the perfect corporate silence.

Unit 42B appeared around a gentle curve in the hallway, its door more substantial than the others. Additional security. Additional isolation. I pressed the access card against the reader.

“These are your quarters,” I said, stepping aside to let her enter first. “Everything’s been…prepared for you.”

The space beyond was immaculate—open-concept living area with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, kitchen stocked with premium synthetic food, bedroom with a bed larger than some Magenta apartments. A gilded cage.

She stepped inside, her gaze finally focusing as she took in her new prison.

“Eon.” My voice sounded strange in my own ears—too desperate, too human. “I’ll find a way to—”

“Don’t.” The word fell between us like a wall. “Just…don’t.”

Before, she’d been electric, pulsing with hatred and violence, and I wanted to immerse myself in it, drown in it.

I wanted that spark back. I wanted her to hit me, yell at me, hurt me.

I wanted her heart pounding as she wrapped her hands around my throat and took me to the edge of ecstasy as she squeezed the life out of me.

Now, she was empty. Her violet eyes dull and void. Her Flux felt dead, dampened to a point I couldn’t even sense it. I grabbed her arm as she went to walk inside. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t do fucking anything.

“Eon, I—”

“Goodnight, Cy.” She pulled out of my grasp, and the door closed behind her.

And I finally lost her.