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T he moment Cee lifted her weapon, Mei reacted.

She didn’t think. She moved.

Sliding off her stool in a single fluid motion, she hooked it with her foot, caught the top, and shoved the four legs into Cee’s arm with enough force to jolt the assassin’s aim off-course. Dorane twisted to the side, his reflexes matching the disruption.

The blast of laser fire shot wildly across the room, ricocheting off the metal walls and shattering a pitcher of dark liquor behind Deek’s head. The thick scent of alcohol filled the air as the shattered glass rained down onto the bar top. A chorus of curses and chaos erupted as the patrons dove for cover.

Cee’s metal fingers clenched around the stool leg as her head snapped toward Mei. Her cybernetic eye flickered, locking onto the unexpected fighter on Dorane’s side. With a furious growl, Cee swung the stool like a hammer, launching it straight at Dorane who had already started moving—after Mei.

“Son of a—” Asta’s voice cut off as she rolled onto the bar, dodging the flying stool as Dorane caught it in midair and redirected it out of his way.

Jammer moved to intercept Cee when she launched herself after Dorane. His massive frame blocked Cee’s path for only a fraction of a second—she was faster than she looked. With one hand, Cee grabbed Jammer by the front of his coat and hurled him into a nearby table. The furniture collapsed under his weight, sending chairs skidding across the floor.

While Deek pulled out a double-barrel laser rifle and shot in the wake of the moving cyborg, shattering the sign above the door, Mei exited the bar, trying to lose herself in the swarm of patrons scrambling to get away. She ducked under the falling pieces and slipped outside with Dorane in hot pursuit.

Damn it!

Mei silently cursed as she darted away from the bar. She hadn’t planned on interfering, but the moment she had seen Cee pull her weapon, she knew Dorane would die. She had learned enough about the Turbinta assassins over the last few days from Tiv and Yi to know they didn’t play around.

If she had been the one sitting across from him, she wouldn’t have waited for the banter—she would have killed him instantly. Her breath came fast as she slipped into a thick crowd of pedestrians, her pace slowing.

She wove in and out between bodies, keeping her head down, her movements controlled, scanning for an exit. She knew Dorane was following her. Their eyes had briefly met before she’d turned and bolted. She hoped his backup could handle the cyborg.

Her gaze swept through the crowd. She had seconds to find a place to vanish if she didn’t want to come face-to-face with Dorane LeGaugh in a crowded market. She could just see the headlines flashing over the monitors in the bar tomorrow if that happened: Last Ancient Knight discovered in seedy bar on Cryon II. Come and get her!

There!

Mei sighed with relief when she found what she was looking for. To her right was a merchant’s stall covered in a thick, dark cloth. The perfect place to disappear.

Without hesitation, Mei stooped low and rolled under the table, pressing her back against the cool metal floor, her breathing even despite the rush of adrenaline. The sound of running footsteps grew louder, then slowed.

From her hiding spot, Mei watched Dorane skid to a stop just beyond the table, his chest rising and falling as he scanned the streets. His jaw tightened, a curse slipping from his lips, before he turned and took off down a long, narrow alleyway.

Mei was about to roll out and move in the opposite direction when a glint of metal and the faint whir of cybernetic servos warned her to stay where she was. She stared up through a rip in the fabric at the cyborg assassin. Cee paused, still as death before she released a malicious chuckle.

Cee’s cybernetic fingers flexed before she muttered, “A rare, fatal mistake, Dorane. One that I will use to my advantage.”

Mei twisted onto her stomach and watched as the Turbinta assassin strode toward the entrance of the alley where Dorane had disappeared. Bitterness rose in her throat. How many times had she heard her father speak in that same tone before he did something unimaginably cruel? It was the certainty of a hunter who knew their prey had just walked into a trap.

Shit.

Driven by her desire to stop what she knew would happen, she rolled out the opposite side, startling the merchant.

“Apologies,” she whispered, brushing past before the man could react.

Her eyes flicked toward the bar just in time to see Asta and Jammer emerge—going in the opposite direction. They hadn’t seen which direction Dorane had gone. They didn’t realize he had just trapped himself.

Walking away wasn’t an option. She couldn’t leave Dorane defenseless. Never again would she look the opposite way when she had the power and skills to stop someone who enjoyed inflicting pain. While she didn’t know Dorane LeGaugh personally, he had stopped the two men from harming Yi. If nothing else, he deserved to have someone cover his back.

Damn it, Dorane, Mei thought as she took off after him.

She moved fast, because if she was right about Cee, Dorane wouldn’t be walking out of that alley alive unless he had a little help.

Dorane groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he slowed to a stop and glanced around the alley. He had made a mistake. A rare, stupid, potentially fatal mistake.

The cold metal walls loomed on either side before ending in a solid wall. The only exit was the way he came. He stood at the midpoint, which meant—yep.

A dead end. I just hope it will be a figurative one.

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Damn it.”

It wasn’t even the trap that pissed him off. No, what really bothered him was that he had walked into it . On his own. Willingly.

His lips twitched despite himself. This time, he was the dumbass. He had led plenty of people into traps before, watching with mild amusement as they realized their fate too late. It was almost refreshing to be on the other side of it.

Almost.

A dry, mocking laugh echoed through the alleyway, slicing through the silence like a well-placed blade. Dorane turned, already knowing who he would see.

Cee 585 stood at the entrance, her cybernetic fingers flexing, her lips curled into an amused sneer. The dim alley lighting reflected off her metallic faceplate, the edges of her cybernetic enhancements catching the glow in eerie, jagged streaks. His lips quirked in wry amusement. He lifted his hands, palms up.

“What can I say? At least you’ll have more room to kill me here.” He tilted his head, feigning disappointment. “Though, I gotta admit, I’m a little let down, Cee. A laser pistol? Really? I expected something a little more creative from you.”

Cee’s cybernetic eye flickered. “Oh, don’t worry. I can be creative.”

Dorane cursed himself. He should’ve finished her in the bar. Hell , he should have finished her two years ago when he cut off her arm. Would have, too—if she hadn’t plummeted into that damn ravine.

She should have stayed dead.

But, like him, Cee didn’t seem to know how to die properly.

He rolled his shoulders, muscles coiling in anticipation as she holstered the pistol and reached behind her back. A moment later, the unmistakable crackle of energy filled the air as she drew her weapon.

Dorane grimaced at the dark purple glow of the laser sword, the edges flickering with an unnatural shimmer. He felt the heat radiating off it even from where he stood.

“Centarian poison?” he dryly observed, shaking his head. “Painful, but I hate to tell you this, it’s not deadly to me.”

Cee grinned at his expression. “What’s wrong? Don’t like the extra kick?” She twirled the blade effortlessly. “You should be honored, Dorane. Few get to experience a death this excruciating .”

Dorane sighed dramatically. “And here I was hoping for something quick .”

He reached into his coat, gripping his own weapon. Cee’s eyes widened slightly when he pulled it free—then narrowed dangerously.

The sleek, segmented metal gleamed in the dim light, the gold trim catching against the darkness of the alley. It extended with a quiet hum, locking into place with practiced ease.

Cee’s sneer deepened. “A Gallant Staff ? You?” She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “How did a lowborn piece of gutter trash like you get your hands on one of those?”

Dorane smiled at her baiting, rolling the Staff between his fingers. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She didn’t reply. She attacked .

The alley erupted into chaos.

Cee moved like a specter, her blade slashing through the air with deadly precision. Dorane blocked with fluid efficiency, his Gallant Staff deflecting the searing edges of her strikes. Sparks flew as metal met energy, lighting up the alley with each impact.

Cee was fast. But so was he.

They moved like two forces of nature—her attacks ruthless and relentless, his movements sharp and calculated. Each strike, each counter, each pivot was a deadly dance they had performed before.

Then—pain.

A sharp, searing burn sliced across his upper arm. Dorane gritted his teeth as agony flared through his veins, the Centarian poison latching onto his nervous system like fire. His fingers trembled for a split second—just long enough for him to stumble back, dropping the Staff.

Cee’s grin was pure malice.

“Finally,” she purred, advancing, her blade raised. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to?—”

Dorane frowned when Cee froze as if her damn cybernetics had locked. His face twisted with pain as he reached for his laser pistol with his good hand. Her fingers twitched. Then—her cybernetic hand jerked violently to her back, fumbling for something.

Dorane’s breath hitched when she pulled her hand back around. The glow of a star-shaped weapon gleamed against her metal plating. She jerked again, then again, and again, the blows happening in rapid session.

Cee whirled , her furious gaze snapping away from Dorane, her face contorted in confusion and rage. Dorane followed her line of sight. Time seemed to slow and everything around him faded: the excruciating pain, the threat of death, even the perfect opportunity he had to kill Cee before she finished what she came to do.

His eyes were locked on the petite, cloaked figure from the bar. Even though he couldn’t see his guardian’s face, her build and graceful movements signaled her gender. Her hood was drawn low, her stance poised, and her slender fingers lifted in a delicate, almost lazy motion that he could imagine running across his burning flesh.

Dorane’s gaze flickered to the tips of her fingers when she held up a device. His stomach dropped and his eyes widened when he recognized what she was holding.

A detonator.

“Vas’ailora ti’shen!” Holy shit! Dorane muttered in his native language.

Cee recognized the device at the same time he did. Her furious gaze locked onto his. He watched in amusement as her lips parted on a single word before the rest of her sentence was cut off.

“Tzarak—!” Damn ? —

He barely had time to tuck his injured arm under him and roll under a nearby metal recycle container before the world erupted in a flash of blinding white. The explosion rocked the alley, heat and Cee’s body parts splattering around him as he buried his face in his good arm.

Pressure in his ears pulsed violently before sound slowly returned, ringing and distorted. He slowly lifted his head, grimacing when he found himself staring into the burnt remains of Cee’s cybernetic skull, her mechanical eye cracked and glazed from the intense hit. He reached for the Gallant Staff that had fallen nearby.

With a grunt of pain and a lot of cursing, he rolled out from under the container, vaguely hoping he didn’t roll in any of Cee’s remains. He grabbed the edge of the container and pulled himself up to his feet just as Asta and Jammer rushed into the alley.

Asta’s eyes widened. “What the hell happened here? Is that Cee?”

Jammer let out a low whistle. “Damn. Wow, I’m glad you didn’t do this to her in the bar. Deek would have really been pissed off at you.”

“I didn’t do it. Someone else did. And yeah, I’ll be alright. Thanks for asking,” he dryly replied, his focus elsewhere.

“You look like shit. Is that Centarian poison?” Asta asked, peering at the slowly healing wound along his arm.

“Yeah,” he replied, his gaze scanning the alley, searching for the cloaked figure.

Gone.

Again.

His jaw clenched.

“Well, it’s a good thing Cee didn’t know you were immune to it,” Jammer said, slapping his injured shoulder. “You are one lucky Aetherialan. I’m glad you’re alright.”

Dorane hissed and glared at Jammer, but it was hard to be angry with Jammer and Asta when he saw the genuine worry in their eyes.

“Let’s get back to headquarters,” he muttered.

He slid the Gallant Staff into his pocket. As he did, his fingers brushed a small device that hadn’t been there earlier. A slow smile replaced his grimace of pain as he rolled the small disk between his fingers. Whoever his guardian was, she had saved his life. Twice. And it looked like she wanted to keep tabs on him.

He didn’t enjoy owing debts, especially to someone he didn’t know. Perhaps she truly wanted to save his life—or perhaps she wanted to toy with him before she tried to kill him.

Two can play this game, lira’vaen eth’shari. His name for her was only going to be my little shadow temporarily, because soon, he would know her real name.

How disappointing, Zoak thought with amused exasperation as he watched Dorane LeGaugh walk straight into a trap.

He had been tailing Dorane for weeks, watching from the shadows as the self-made power broker eliminated the fools who thought they could collect the bounty on his head. Watching Dorane dismantle his would-be killers had been entertaining—a refined, brutal efficiency that spoke to the man’s years of experience in surviving.

But Cee 585 was a different breed.

Zoak leaned forward slightly, his slit-pupiled eyes narrowing. Cee was a Turbinta assassin, and unlike the rest, she actually had a chance. Which was a complication. If it looked like she was going to be successful, he would have to intervene.

Dorane is mine.

He perched in the darkness high above the alley, his four-fingered hands resting lightly against the cold metal railing. The artificial lights of Cryon II flickered inconsistently below, casting elongated shadows through the narrow passageway. From his vantage point, he had an unobstructed view of the unfolding spectacle.

His fingers flexed against the metal railing, the weight of his blade familiar and comforting at his side. Below, Cee activated her blade, the dark purple glow of the energy weapon crackling in the alley’s dim light. Zoak’s nostrils flared slightly as he caught the faint, acrid scent of Centarian poison.

A slow and agonizing way to die.

Dorane, to his credit, looked unimpressed.

Zoak smirked, watching the two circle each other, waiting for the first strike.

The fight erupted in a blur of motion—faster than most beings would have been able to track. Blades clashed, sparks flew, and Zoak’s smirk deepened as he observed the violent, ruthless exchange.

Dorane fought well, but Cee was relentless, pressing her advantage. And then…

A mistake.

Zoak saw the moment it happened—the flicker of pain in Dorane’s expression as Cee’s blade sliced across his upper arm. The telltale shimmer of poison burning into his bloodstream.

Dorane stumbled. The Gallant Staff slipped from his grip and rolled under the container to his left. Zoak tensed and pulled his laser rifle up from where he had rested it against the wall of the building he was standing on.

I think not, Cee.

He sighted the angle he’d need to take her down before she could land the last strike, and his fingers twitched on the trigger. He would enjoy watching the surprise on her face as she realized her life had been claimed instead.

A pinpoint of red light flashed through the air—small, fast. Cee stiffened in surprise and raised her hand to her back, and then her body jerked several more times.

Zoak froze, his predatory instincts flaring, before his eyes flashed to the entrance of the alley. Zoak blinked in surprise at the cyborg’s choice to turn her back on her target, as she did the same. Zoak shifted silently, and finally caught sight of a cloaked figure at the alley’s mouth, standing unnaturally still. The shadows clung to the figure like a second skin. He couldn’t make out the intruder’s features.

Then Cee’s body exploded.

The blast rocked the alleyway, sending a shockwave through the surrounding structures. Zoak gripped the edge of the wall and remained perfectly still, barely shifting with the force of the explosion. His slitted pupils narrowed to thin slivers as he watched the aftermath unfold.

From the smoke and debris, Dorane slowly emerged, brushing his uninjured hand over his long coat with the nonchalance of a man who should have been dead . Asta and Jammer appeared seconds later, their expressions a mix of disbelief and irritation.

Zoak’s tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth. They are not responsible for Cee’s death. That much is clear.

His gaze flickered back toward the alley’s entrance, but the cloaked figure was gone . A slow, dangerous grin spread across Zoak’s face.

Interesting.

He had assumed this hunt was between himself and Dorane, but perhaps… perhaps there was another player on the board.

His curiosity stirred, simmering beneath his usual cold amusement. Who are you?

His fingers drummed absently against the railing, his keen gaze lingering on the empty space where the figure had stood.

Then—he felt it.

A ripple of awareness.

His body went completely still.

For the first time in years , a sensation crawled down the back of his neck like a whisper against his skin.

He was being watched.

Slowly, he turned his head, scanning the surrounding rooftops, the darkened windows of the abandoned structures lining the alley. His gaze moved methodically, calculating, searching.

Nothing.

But that didn’t mean no one was there.

A slow, predatory smile curved his lips as his internal desire for survival kicked in and he melted back into the shadows… slipping away. And yet, the whisper against his skin remained.

This had just become far more entertaining.