Page 17

I spotted Miggs ducking through the side exit, his slick figure silhouetted for just a split second against the emergency lighting of the corridor. My body reacted before my mind even processed it.

I sprinted toward the exit, weaving through the panicked club patrons with ease. The bass thudded through the floor, vibrating up my legs as I ran. The exit door swung shut, and I shouldered it open with a grunt.

This was my chance to end it—to stop running, to stop being used. I wasn’t going to let him get away.

The service corridor stretched ahead, cold and sterile compared to the pulsing nightclub behind me.

My boots barely made a sound on the metal grating.

Seven years on Thodos Station had taught me every shortcut, every maintenance tunnel, every ventilation shaft.

If Miggs thought he could outrun me here, he was dead wrong.

I heard his footsteps turn left at the junction ahead. Rookie move. He’d hit the main corridor that way, with all its security checkpoints. I veered right instead, ducking into a narrow access tunnel used by maintenance droids. The walls closed in around me, my shoulders nearly brushing both sides.

This would cut a full thirty seconds off the pursuit, if I hurried.

My lungs burned as I pushed myself faster, the weight of my blaster slapping against my thigh with each stride. I burst out the other end of the maintenance tunnel to catch Miggs rounding the corner ahead.

“Stop right there!” I shouted, but he only ran faster.

I took aim with my blaster, but there were too many bystanders—dock workers, cargo haulers, and station residents going about their business. I cursed and kept running.

Miggs glanced back, his face contorting in panic when he realized I’d somehow gotten ahead of his planned route. He slammed his hand against a panel on the wall.

The blast door ahead began to lower.

I pushed myself harder, diving into a slide that took me under the descending metal barrier just before it sealed with a pneumatic hiss.

Rolling to my feet, I noticed something blinking on the floor ahead.

Trip mine.

I froze mid-step, barely preventing my boot from triggering the sensor. The red light pulsed innocently, but I knew it would take out half the corridor if tripped.

“Dirty bastard,” I muttered, carefully stepping over it.

He’d already taken so much from me—my reputation, my safety, my freedom. I wasn’t letting him take anything else.

I spotted another mine ahead. And another. He’d littered the path with them. Smart. The corridor led to the cargo bays, where he probably had an escape ship waiting. I needed to find another way.

I backtracked to a small access panel I’d passed moments earlier. Kneeling, I pried it open with my knife and crawled inside. The ventilation shaft was cramped and dusty, sending me into a coughing fit as I dragged myself forward on elbows and knees.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered to myself, pushing through the claustrophobic space. The metal was cold beneath my palms, and the shaft rang with hollow sounds as I moved. I counted the intersections—one, two, three—before taking a right turn that should lead me to the cargo bay entrance.

He’d disabled the security cameras—another sign this had been thoroughly planned. I followed at a distance, keeping to the shadows between cargo containers.

The bay’s massive doors stood at the far end, a stolen shuttle prepped and waiting with its ramp extended. Miggs was really going to get away.

Not if I could help it.

I raised my blaster and fired, catching him in the shoulder. He staggered but kept running.

“Miggs!” I shouted. “It’s over!”

He ducked behind a stack of crates, and I lost sight of him. Advancing cautiously, I scanned the area, blaster at the ready.

The whisper of movement to my left was my only warning.

Two mercenaries stepped out from behind a cargo container, weapons aimed at my chest. Then two more appeared to my right. Professional goons, not the usual station muscle—these were imported talent.

“Drop it,” one of them ordered.

I hesitated, calculating my odds. Four against one. Not good.

A familiar shadow moved behind them—tall, powerful, alien. Korvan had caught up.

“I’d reconsider that order,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the standoff.

The mercs spun, but Korvan was already moving. He grabbed the nearest one, twisting the man’s arm until it snapped with a sickening crack. The merc screamed as Korvan used him as a shield against fire from the others.

I dropped to one knee, taking aim at the mercenary on the right. My shot caught him in the chest, and he fell backward.

Plasma fire erupted around us. Korvan threw his human shield aside and charged the remaining two mercs. A bolt hit him in the side, but he barely slowed, continuing his attack with brutal efficiency. His fist connected with one merc’s jaw, the impact lifting the man off his feet.

The last mercenary fired wildly at Korvan, who took another hit to his shoulder before reaching the man and snapping his neck with one fluid motion.

He was a force of nature—unstoppable and unflinching. But even forces of nature weren’t invincible.

Korvan staggered slightly, his hand pressed to his side where the plasma bolt had hit him. The wound smoked slightly, the smell of burned flesh drifting to my nostrils.

“You’re hurt,” I said, moving to his side.

“It’s nothing,” he growled. “Where’s Miggs?”

A shot rang out, the bolt sizzling past my ear. We both dove for cover behind a nearby crate.

“That answer your question?” I peered around the edge. Miggs was backing toward his shuttle, firing wildly to keep us pinned.

“He’s not getting off this station,” Korvan said flatly, his jaw set with determination.

We moved in tandem, Korvan going right and me going left, creating a pincer movement that forced Miggs to retreat into a maintenance bay instead of reaching his ship.

Dead end.

Miggs knew it too. He spun around, his back to the wall, blaster trained on us as we cornered him. His face was slick with sweat, his breathing ragged. Blood soaked the sleeve where I’d shot him earlier.

“You think killing me will fix anything?” he spat, his expression desperate but defiant. “I’m not the only one who’s turned on you, Lieutenant.”

Korvan’s expression darkened, but he remained silent, his blaster leveled at Miggs’s chest.

I stepped forward, my own blaster trained on Miggs, and snarled, “You’ve been running long enough, Miggs. Time to pay for what you’ve done.”

“You don’t understand what you’re involved in,” Miggs said, his eyes darting between us. “The Spikes have contacts everywhere. They know about you two.” His gaze lingered on Korvan. “They know what you’re hiding.”

“Shut up,” I snapped.

“You’re just a pawn, Jann,” Miggs continued. “You always were. First Miggs’s patsy, now the Vinduthi’s pet.” He laughed bitterly. “At least I got paid for my betrayal. What are you getting?”

My finger tightened on the trigger. “The satisfaction of watching you answer for what you’ve done.”

“To who? The Fangs? The Alliance?” He shook his head. “Everyone’s corrupt. Everyone’s playing an angle. You think your Vinduthi boyfriend is any different?”

Korvan moved silently to my side, his presence solid and reassuring despite his injuries.

“Put the weapon down,” he ordered Miggs, his voice deadly quiet.

Miggs smiled, a twisted, ugly thing. “No. I don’t think I will.”