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T he Dead Man’s Dock stank of desperation and cheap booze. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the brush of fingers against my jacket and the hiss of conversations in languages I only half understood.

Thodos Station never slept, and the Promenade level hummed with life at all hours—mostly the kind that thrived in shadows.

I rubbed my thumb against the worn spot on my sleeve, a nervous habit I’d never managed to break. Four days without sleep; and the delivery should have been simple. Take the package, drop it off, collect my credits. But nothing in my life ran smoothly.

“You’re late,” the contact snapped when I slid onto the stool beside him.

“Traffic was murder,” I answered, with a shrug. The truth—that I’d spent an extra hour dodging station security patrols—wouldn’t win me any points.

He didn’t laugh. “Where is it?”

I pulled the small package from my inner pocket and slid it halfway across the bar; my hand still grasping it. The contact, Miggs—I remembered from our brief comms exchange—grabbed for it, but I held firm.

“Payment first.”

Miggs snorted, his greasy hair falling across his forehead. Dark circles underlined his bloodshot eyes, and sweat beaded on his upper lip, despite the bar’s chill. Something wasn’t right.

“Half now, half when I confirm it’s all there,” he countered, his fingers twitching.

I almost walked. Deals with jumpy clients rarely ended well, and I didn’t like people who changed the rules mid-deal.

But the docking fees for the Starfall were due, and my fuel cells needed replacing, and the loan shark I’d borrowed from to cover repairs last month had sent not-so-subtle reminders that payment was expected.

“Fine.” I released my grip on the package, letting him pull it closer.

He fumbled with the seal, breaking it open just enough for us to glimpse the contents. My stomach dropped.

Not simple contraband. Not illicit pharmaceuticals. Not even weapons parts.

Alliance military tech. Shit.

Sleek, black, with the telltale blue power signatures that marked it as top-grade weapons systems tech. The kind people killed for—and not just people, but organizations. Syndicates.

I pulled back, my hand instinctively moving toward my blaster. “What the hell, Miggs? You told me this was a simple drop.”

His eyes darted around the bar. “Does it matter? Just shut up and take the credits.”

He shoved a small transfer chip across the bar. I checked the amount on my wrist scanner—only half my payment. Better than nothing, but nowhere near enough to cover both the docking fees and to keep the loan sharks at bay.

I pocketed the chip, preparing to stand. “Where’s the rest? You’ve confirmed it.”

Miggs grabbed my wrist. His fingers dug in hard enough to bruise. “You’ll get it when I deliver the goods to my client. People are looking too hard for this.”

My stomach plummeted.

“And you thought using me as your delivery girl was a good way to avoid them?” I yanked my arm away. “Goodbye, Miggs.”

“Wait—” His eyes widened, fixed on something behind me. The bar had gone quiet, the usual din of conversation had fallen to whispers. “Oh, no. Too late.”

I glanced over my shoulder and felt the air leave my lungs.

A group of Vinduthi had entered the bar. Their gray skin made them look like they’d been carved from stone; with dark markings swirling down the side of their faces and disappearing beneath their clothing. The small horns protruding from their temples caught the dim light of the bar.

“Shit,” I muttered, turning back to find Miggs already slipping off his stool. “Where are you going?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, shoving the package back into my hands. “They’ve seen me with you already. If we both run, we’re dead. This way, one of us makes it.”

Before I could protest, he darted through the crowd, leaving me alone with stolen Alliance tech and a gang of Vinduthi closing in.

I considered dropping the package and walking away. Let someone else deal with the mess. But Miggs was right—they’d seen us together.

And there was no escaping a Vinduthi on the hunt.

The thought of fleeing crossed my mind, but my body refused to move. Pride kept my feet planted, even as the tallest of the Vinduthi approached—a male with gleaming red eyes and a face that looked like it hadn’t smiled in decades.

The air in the bar grew heavy as conversations died. Glasses stopped clinking. Even the automated drink dispensers seemed to pause.

“Human,” the Vinduthi said, stopping directly in front of me. His voice was deep and steady, with none of the nervousness I’d seen in Miggs. “You have something that belongs to us.”

I tucked the package closer to my side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His gaze flicked to where my arm pressed against the parcel, then back to my face. “We tracked a shipment of technology to this station. The signal ends here, in this bar.”

My fingers itched to reach for my blaster, but the two Vinduthi flanking him could move before I finished the thought. They’d cut me down before I cleared my holster.

“Look, I’m just a courier. I was hired to make a delivery. I didn’t know what was in the package.”

“And yet you still have it,” he said, taking a step closer. The heat from his body reached me, even from a foot away. “If you were only a courier, the exchange would be complete.”

His red eyes missed nothing.

Damn it. He had a point.

“The buyer ran.” I nodded toward where Miggs had disappeared. “I was just about to turn around and leave myself.”

He studied me, eyes narrowing. “You’re lying.”

“Not completely.” I managed a smile. “Just omitting certain truths.”

To my surprise, his mouth twitched slightly. Not a smile—I doubted he was capable of one—but a break in that stone-cold expression.

“Your name,” he demanded.

“Iria Jann.”

He nodded, as if confirming something. “The smuggler with the modified freighter. The one who slipped through the Caraxis Blockade.”

My heart skipped. That job was supposed to be a secret. “You’re mistaken.”

“No.” His certainty unnerved me. “The Vinduthi collect information as others collect wealth. It fuels our operations.”

One of his soldiers leaned in to whisper something, and the lead Vinduthi nodded.

“I am Korvan,” he said, returning his attention to me. “Lieutenant to Alkard of the Fangs. The package you hold contains weapons systems stolen from an Alliance military outpost. They were meant for us.”

My throat went dry. The Fangs were the most powerful Vinduthi syndicate on Thodos Station. They controlled half the station’s black market, and their leader, Alkard, was said to be as ruthless as he was cunning.

“Lieutenant?” I questioned, trying to buy time to figure out a pan. “You crime syndicates playing soldier now?”

A flash of something—pride, perhaps—crossed his face. “Alkard and I served together in the Border Conflicts. Many of the Fangs’ higher ranks are veterans of that war. Old titles, old loyalties... they endure.”

I studied his face, trying to understand why he was telling me this. Perhaps he wanted me to see the Vinduthi as more than just criminal enforcers—to understand the structure and discipline behind their operations. Or maybe he was just assessing how I'd use the information.

Whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to me. I just needed to get out of here in one piece.

“Meant for you?” I repeated, steering the conversation back to the package.

“We had arranged to purchase them through other channels.” Korvan’s gaze dropped to the package again. “Then someone decided to cut us out of the deal.”

“Well, that someone wasn’t me.” I held out the package. “Here. Take it. I want nothing to do with this.”

He reached for it, his gray fingers nearly brushing mine when a flash of movement caught my eye.

Miggs, darting back through a side door, pistol raised.

“Watch out!” I shoved Korvan aside as plasma fire scorched the air where he’d been standing. The package tumbled from my grasp as I dove behind the bar.

More shots rang out. Glass shattered. Someone screamed.

I drew my blaster, risking a glance over the bar top.

Miggs was fleeing again, this time with the package tucked under his arm. The Vinduthi soldiers had taken cover, returning fire, as patrons scattered.

Korvan, however, moved with astonishing speed. He vaulted over an upturned table and tackled Miggs to the ground. The package skidded across the floor, coming to rest near me.

I grabbed it and considered my options.

I could run. In the chaos, I might make it back to the Starfall before they caught me. But then what? The Vinduthi never stopped hunting their prey.

Or I could turn the package over to Korvan and hope he was feeling generous enough to let me live.

Neither option appealed.

A third choice presented itself as I spotted the service entrance behind the bar.

Unlike the main exits, which would be the first places the Vinduthi would watch, the maintenance tunnels beyond were a maze known only to station workers and smugglers who'd paid good money for that knowledge.

If I could lose myself in the station's infrastructure, I'd have access to docking bays they wouldn't think to monitor.

“Don’t even think about it.”

I turned to find Korvan standing behind me, having circled around during my deliberation. His eyes bore into mine, and something in my chest fluttered—fear, I told myself.

“The package,” he held out his hand. “Now.”

I clutched it tighter. “And then what? You kill me for knowing too much?”

“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be talking.” His gaze swept over me, assessing. “You have skills we could use. Your reputation precedes you—the smuggler who can slip past any security system.”

“That’s just a rumor.”

“Is it?” He stepped closer, and I backed against the bar. The warmth radiating from his body was unlike anything I’d felt from a human.

“The Caraxis Blockade had triple-layered scanners. Yet you passed through undetected with a hold full of contraband.”

I fought, and lost, the war against the snark. “Lucky day.”

“Skill,” he corrected. “The kind the Fangs value.”

Somewhere in the bar, Miggs groaned. I realized Korvan’s soldiers had him pinned to the floor.

“What are you suggesting?” I asked, my fingers tightening around the package.

“A deal.” Korvan’s voice dropped lower, meant only for my ears. “Work for me. One month of service in exchange for your life.”

I laughed. “That’s not much of a choice.”

“It’s the only one you have.” His gaze bored through me, and something passed between us—a current of understanding, or maybe just the recognition of two predators sizing each other up.

“You’re resourceful, Iria Jann. Prove your worth, and you may find the Fangs to be generous allies.”

My name on his lips sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on survival.

“And if I refuse?”

His expression hardened. “Then you join your friend over there. Though his fate,” he glanced toward Miggs, “will be considerably less pleasant than yours.”

As if on cue, Miggs let out a pained cry.

“Fine,” I said, holding out the package. “One month. But I keep my ship, and when this is over, I walk away clean. No debts, no bounties, no Vinduthi shadows following me across the galaxy.”

Korvan took the package, his fingers brushing against mine. Even through that brief contact, I felt the unnatural warmth of his skin. The touch lingered, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes that I couldn’t quite identify.

“Agreed,” he said. “Though I suspect you may find working for the Fangs more... rewarding than you expect.”

Something in his tone made my pulse quicken. I blamed it on the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

“Don’t count on it,” I muttered.

He turned to his soldiers. “Take this one,” he nodded toward Miggs, “to Alkard. He’ll want to know who hired him.”

“And me?” I asked.

Korvan’s gaze returned to mine, assessing. “You’ll come with me.”