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T he metallic hum of Cryon II’s artificial atmosphere and gravity was almost soothing, if one ignored the fact that it was currently vibrating through the floor at a slightly irregular pitch—a sign of yet another power fluctuation in the lower levels. Dorane noted it absently as he leaned back in his chair, listening to Asta rant.

“Another one. I swear to every damn god in this galaxy, if one more moron tries to kill you, we’re going to be knee-deep in bodies. We don’t have the storage for this, Dorane!” Asta threw her hands up in exasperation, her tail lashing behind her.

“You can’t count Cee. There wasn’t much of her to store,” Dorane replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Very funny. You know that Andri’s jacked up the price on your head again. Unless we ban everyone from Cryon II, this is going to turn into a goddamn charnel house,” she continued.

Dorane pursed his lips and absently rolled the small tracking disk between his fingers—the one his mysterious shadow had left him. “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Asta. Maybe we should start charging an entrance fee for bounty hunters. Call it an ‘assassin’s toll’.”

Asta’s glare could have melted steel. “Or, we could just stop letting every trigger-happy idiot with a vendetta walk in here!”

“Then why don’t you? You are in charge of security,” he pointed out lazily.

Asta bared her fangs. “Don’t tempt me to take a vacation, Dorane.”

The office door slid open before Dorane could deliver his undoubtedly witty response. Jammer stepped inside, his usual relaxed demeanor tempered with something cautious.

“You’ve got visitors,” he announced.

Dorane arched a brow. “Do I?”

Jammer grimaced. “Yeah. A Turbinta assassin.”

Asta let out a string of very colorful curses. “Now they’re showing up and making an appointment to try to kill you! You have really outdone yourself this time, Dorane.”

“But,” Jammer continued, “she’s not alone. She’s with an Ancient Knight of the Gallant.”

Dorane leaned forward, suddenly intrigued. That announcement even shut Asta up. Dorane’s lips curved into a wry smile. So, the rumors were true. There was a Turbinta assassin with an Ancient Knight.

“Now that is interesting.” He flicked his fingers toward the door. “Please, escort them in.”

Jammer nodded and stepped back out. Asta muttered under her breath, folding her arms. “I swear, if we’re hosting a damn assassin convention now, I’m out.”

“You’ll stay, because you love me,” Dorane teased.

Asta growled, “I love paychecks.”

“Same thing,” he mused.

Moments later, Jammer returned, and with him came a pair that made Dorane’s interest sharpen.

The Turbinta woman—tall, sharp-featured, with piercing violet eyes—was assessing the room as if it was a battlefield: exits, structural weaknesses, and probably the fastest way to kill every person here. And yet, despite the danger the assassin presented, it was the man beside her that caught Dorane’s attention and held it.

The man’s entrance was bold, a purposeful stride that filled the room, but it was devoid of the expected swagger, leaving Dorane disarmed by his surprising modesty. Curiosity was etched on his face, but Dorane would bet his most prized starship that the man had much in common with his companion, the subtle shift in his eyes betraying a similar assessment.

His movements were effortless, fluid, confident—like a man used to both fighting wars and laughing at them. His relaxed smile didn’t have a hint of deception in it. And, more notably, his arm was casually resting around the Turbinta’s waist in a slightly possessive way that spoke volumes.

Dorane’s eyes flicked between them, entertained and fascinated. He had seen assassins with lovers before—fleeting, shallow things meant for distraction, leverage, or convenience. But this one looked at this man differently. With … deep emotion.

Well, well, Dorane thought. That’s unexpected.

Ash shot him a pleasant smile and held out his hand. “Ashton Haze, but everyone calls me Ash. You’re Dorane LeGaugh, I presume? Gotta say, you’ve got a pretty impressive setup here.”

Dorane rose, shook Ash’s hand, and waved to the two seats across from him. “Thank you. Now, forgive me for my impatience, but what brings a Turbinta and a Gallant to my doorstep? Normally when a Turbinta comes this close, they are trying to kill me.”

Ash waved that away with a chuckle. “If Kella wanted to kill you, she wouldn’t have knocked.”

Kella rolled her eyes at Ash’s comment and looked at Dorane with a slightly apologetic expression and a slight shake of her head.

“He is the one who would knock, have a conversation with you and probably a meal and a drink before killing you. I am trying to teach him efficiency, but he is not a very good student,” Kella retorted.

It took a second for Dorane to realize that Kella had made a joke. Asta’s smothered snicker told him that she picked up on the subtle humor at the same time. Dorane’s fascination grew.

There must be something to these Ancient Knights if they can make a Turbinta joke, he silently mused .

“I’ll remember that,” Dorane chuckled. “So, why are you here?”

Ash’s demeanor shifted slightly—not losing its warmth, but solidifying. “To warn you that there’s a Turbinta assassin named Zoak who’s taken your contract. According to Kella, he’s a badass with mental issues.”

Dorane exhaled in mild amusement. “Thank you for the warning, but it’s a little late. There have been several attempts on my life recently.” He paused, considering. “Though… I hadn’t heard that Zoak was in the mix. That is interesting.”

Kella shook her head at his dismissive attitude. “Zoak is different. He is like Ash says… not right in the head.”

Dorane tilted his head, unimpressed. “He’s an assassin. He kills. That’s pretty much all I need to know.”

Kella’s lips thinned. “You don’t understand. He is not an assassin. He will take money, but he is not driven by credits. He will kill more than who he was hired for. He wants a legacy. He wants to be remembered for his cruelty.”

Dorane studied her, noting the way her posture stiffened, the flicker of something unreadable in her expression. “And you know this because…?”

Kella hesitated. He didn’t miss the way Ash’s arm tightened around Kella’s waist or the way Ash leaned into her and murmured encouragement in her ear. He wasn’t sure if it was to calm her fears or to keep her from telling him ' Good luck facing Zoak’ and leaving. He suspected it was the latter.

Dorane leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth. “Come now, Kella. Don’t be shy. You seem awfully concerned for someone who normally wouldn’t care.”

Kella’s jaw tightened. “I knew him. When I was training. And I’ve heard stories.”

Kella’s eyes strayed to the glass of his office. It was as if she were staring at someone, almost daring them to take the shot. Dorane motioned with his hand to Asta, who nodded. Asta touched the communicator on her wrist and tapped in a command. Dorane waited, his eyes not leaving Kella’s face as it tightened and she moved until she was between Ash and the glass.

“A laser cannon could be fired at close range and not penetrate the glass,” he murmured.

She turned to look at him. A myriad of expressions crossed her face before it changed to relief. She sensed the same thing he had—that there was someone out there.

More than one, he thought, resisting the urge to get up and walk over to the window.

“Zoak likes to stalk his prey. He will start with those closest to you and kill them, simply to taunt you. That is not the Turbinta way. We are trained to kill a specific target—for credits. We kill only those that get in the way of our target. Any other is a waste of our energy and not conducive to the end mission. Zoak would kill every person on Cryon II if he knew it would cause you pain. He is driven by a desire to be known as the greatest ‘assassin’ of all time, fool that he is. He is a loose cannon who was shunned by the great Masters. I overheard Tal—my Master and Zoak’s former Master—speak of him once, many years ago. He had an obsession with killing all the Turbinta Masters and claiming their titles. Tallei recommended that Zoak be terminated, but instead, he was transferred to a new Master—who shared Zoak’s obsession. She believed that he would only betray her when she was the last Master left standing. He killed her first… and the rest of the villagers nearby, hanging them in their homes, before he disappeared.”

“Why didn’t the Turbinta Masters go after him?” he asked, sitting back.

“They believe themselves smarter and faster than Zoak, there was no profit in hunting him, it would be unprecedented to work together for a single target, and those who were affected were dead. He has been relatively quiet since. Plotting his next grand show,” Kella said. “He is here. I can feel it in my bones, watching even as we speak.”

Dorane weighed her words, then nodded. “I believe you.”

She nodded in return, and Dorane turned his gaze back to Ash. “And you? What’s your angle? Why do you care what happens here?”

Ash met his gaze without hesitation. “Because I know what happens when dictators are in power.”

Dorane raised a brow.

Ash continued, his tone serious but steady. “The Gallant needs your support. I grew up on a planet called Earth. They had their own mess of politics there… it doesn’t always look like war, but it is. Dictators suppress people through fear, through cruelty. They take power, not because they deserve it, but because they can. And they keep it because good people don’t stand up soon enough.” His jaw set. “I made an oath once—to defend against enemies, both foreign and domestic. Doesn’t matter that I’m in a different galaxy. That oath didn’t change.”

Dorane studied him for a long moment. There was a quiet resolve in Ash’s expression, a certainty that Dorane could appreciate. He leaned back in his chair.

“I like you, Ash.”

Asta groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh, stars help us.”

Dorane waved her off, his lips curving at Asta’s comforting irritation. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to put off any heroic declarations for the moment.” He glanced at the holoscreen flashing on his desk. “I have an important communication I need to take. We’ll have to finish this conversation later.”

Ash inclined his head. “We’ll get out of your hair. I appreciate you hearing us out.”

“Please, stay in one of our guest apartments,” Dorane offered.

Kella locked eyes with Dorane, a challenging smile forming on her lips. “We would be delighted,” she replied with wry amusement.

Dorane flicked his fingers toward Asta. “Asta, please escort Ash and Kella to the guest apartments. And try not to threaten them too much. I’d like to keep this assassin on my good side.”

Asta grumbled but obeyed, escorting them out.

The moment they were gone, Dorane turned back to his holoscreen and tapped the incoming call.

Roan Landais’s face appeared.

Dorane grinned. “Well, well. If it isn’t the man of the hour. It’s good to see you aren’t dead, unlike your father, from what I’ve heard.”

Roan sighed. “It was close… and yes, Coleridge is dead.”

Dorane leaned back, fingers steepling. “It’s about time someone put him out of his misery. I’m guessing this isn’t just a social call to let me know about his passing.”

Roan’s lips twitched. “No. I’ve been having so much fun blowing things up, I thought you might like to join in.”

Dorane threw his head back and laughed. “Damn, it’s good to know you are still alive. Tell me what happened.”

The moment Roan began speaking, Dorane’s expression darkened. He listened in silence as Roan described what had happened aboard the Legion Space Lab—the twisted experiments, the Legion’s plans to obliterate Tesla Terra, the sheer scale of destruction they were preparing to unleash.

By the time Roan had finished his vivid description and dire warnings, Dorane felt as if he had been on the space lab with his friend. He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the desk. This night was proving to be more exciting than he had expected.

“We need your help, Dorane. My uncle is mad, and what happened will make him desperate. With the power at his disposal, I don’t have to tell you how dangerous that makes him,” Roan said.

“You know how to stir up a Torrian vipers’ nest, Roan,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“I have an Ancient Knight with me. Her name is Julia Marksdale,” Roan added.

“There is one here as well. He said his name is Ashton Haze,”

Roan nodded. “He came to warn you about an assassin?—”

“Named Zoak. Yeah, he told me. I guess Coleridge wasn’t happy with just dying. He and your uncle have put a high enough price on my head that every would-be assassin in the galaxy is after my blood,” he replied with a hefty sigh.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Dorane,” Roan murmured.

“It was bound to happen. Men like your father and uncle are easily threatened by men like us. I’m assuming you’re heading to Cryon II. How soon before you arrive?” he asked.

“Two days,” Roan replied.

Dorane’s fingers traced slow circles against the desk as he mulled it over. “You might want to reconsider coming here.”

Roan’s brows lifted slightly. “Why?”

“Because Cryon II is currently crawling with assassins,” Dorane said dryly. “And unless you’re planning on shooting your way through a very enthusiastic bounty pool, it might be better if I come to you.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Roan nodded. “Where?”

“Aetherial,” Dorane said immediately.

Roan exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “We’ll meet you there.”

Dorane sat back in his chair, exhaling slowly as his gaze flickered to the ceiling. He processed everything that had happened in just the last hour. He had met his first Ancient Knight—and had been mildly surprised. The man was nothing like the rumors. In some ways, that made Ash even more remarkable. Rising to his feet, Dorane walked over to the glass, staring out across the darkened rooftops across from him where Kella had been staring. He folded his hands behind him. He felt no fear; Zoak’s threat was just another noise in the violent symphony of the battle. The layered defenses, composed of reinforced transparent glass and additional shields, created an impenetrable barrier against any weapons.

His thoughts turned to the Legion and their plan to wipe out Tesla Terra. If what Roan told him was true, and he was sure it was, then the Legion had crossed the line. Tesla Terra was one of his most lucrative clients. It was more than that, though. Their attack was personal. He had friends there.

He absently rolled the small tracking device between his fingers—the one his shadow had left him. A rueful smile curved his lips. It was time to find out if his mysterious guardian was a friend or an enemy.

He turned when Jammer and Asta strode into the office. Jammer groaned the moment he saw Dorane’s expression. “I already hate whatever you’re about to say.”

Asta, ever the perceptive one, grinned. “ Finally. Are we done pretending everything is normal around here?” She threw herself onto the couch across from his desk. “Because I swear if I had to listen to you complain about the rattling in the power grid and the lights flickering one more time , I was going to shoot you myself.”

Dorane chuckled. “You still might.”

She flicked her tail, amused. “Not yet, but I’m considering it. It helps keep the boredom at bay.”

Dorane rolled the tracking device between his fingers, eyes glinting with something dangerous.

“Tell me…” he mused. “Are you two ready to pick a fight with the Legion?”

Jammer groaned louder and glanced between him and Asta. “Oh, come on. Please tell me you aren’t serious? Is this because an Ancient Knight and a Turbinta have fallen in love? You think the galaxy should be all lovey dovey?”

Asta threw back her head and laughed. “It probably has more to do with Roan Landais. If you ask me, which you did, I think it’s about damn time you got your head out of your ass and joined the fun.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. Jammer?”

Jammer paused before he muttered a curse and sighed, then grinned. “When do we leave?”

A flare of excitement swept through Dorane. “As soon as I’ve found what I’m looking for. Asta, can you inform our guests of our plans? I have a feeling they will want to join us. We'll leave for Aetherial soon.”

Asta sat up, her eyes shimmering with curiosity. “What are you looking for?”

Dorane’s eyes glittered with determination. “My shadow.”

And this time, she wouldn’t disappear.